My cat is orange

I know I haven’t written in a while.

And while I am not under the impression that everyone reading this has been despairing over my lack of entries, I am going to talk about why.

And this is not going to be a funny entry.

My cat who is orange, whose name is Shwaybi, passed away this past summer. And I’ve been really sad. I was devastated when he got sick. I was devastated when it happened, when he actually died. And I’m still devastated. Sometimes I start thinking about him, and I get caught thinking about how he was when he was sick, and how he looked when we buried him, and then how he was when he was not sick, and I can barely stand it. I get so sad, especially at night, when my mind wanders when I’m trying to sleep.

I see him all the time, even though I know he is gone. I see him out of the corner of my eye in my apartment, even though he hasn’t ever lived in my apartment, he lived with my parents. I hear him meowing around the corner, padding into the kitchen when I’m at my parents. I go looking in his hiding spots, only to remember that he is not alive.

I have a hard time talking about this for several reasons. One of the big reasons is that not everyone understands my being so sad about the death of an animal. Not everyone gets attached, not everyone feels that way. And I guess that is fine, but I do. Shwaybi was part of my family and has been in my family for a really long time. People do not like comparing the death of a pet to the death of a human, which I understand, but that’s not what I’m doing. I’m not an expert on feelings or death, I’m just really sad because I miss my cat.

I haven’t been able to write a blog entry since he died. I have started several. There are a lot of partial drafts, about everything from Amy Poehler to me punching Ian in my sleep. But I always see Shwaybi’s face on the masthead and feel sad, and think, “I should write about him.” Pets don’t get eulogies, so I feel like I should write one. I will write more later on, I am sure. Shwaybi’s appearance marked the beginning of my utter obsession with cats that lead to me pretending to be a cat for a solid three years (at least). And I really do love all animals, and especially cats. But Shwaybi was special. You can’t replace a cat with another cat, no more than you can replace a friend with another friend.

I was planning on writing more in this entry. About how he died. About what happened, about how I said goodbye,  and about what a great cat he was. He was a great cat. I thought I was ready to write about it, but it turns out I am not. I have written this entry over twenty times, but I guess this is just what I am going to do.

I miss my cat so much. I miss my friend. Someday I will write more about him. He deserves a proper eulogy. But I need to get past this block, because I love writing, and I really do have A TON of stories to write about. So I’m going to start writing about them again. It feels strange posting a serious story directly after a post where I detailed a feud that ending with me peeing in my sister’s bathtub, but Shwaybi was a weird cat, and I had plenty of feuds with him. Lots of the stories I have to tell are about him.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say for now. I’m sorry for not being weird or funny or ridiculous today. Not really, I’m not really sorry. But I don’t usually write things like this. Emotional things. I’m secretly private. About strange things.

So until next time,

The girl who has the cat that is orange