On the morning of 17th August, I picked up my kitten, Sheldon, gave him a hug and he kissed my nose. He made the cute snuffling noises that he always did when picked up, I told him to be good when I was at work, and then told my boyfriend to let me know how it went at the vets later that day (the original reason for the visit was the smell in his mouth, but he had been coughing, too).
After anxiously waiting for news, Matt told me it went fine, there was nothing wrong with his mouth; Sheldon has his usual antibiotics, and some stuff for his ear wax. My baby was okay, I relaxed.
Later that day, after work, I was heading out with friends from work. We left our bags with the security desk in our building. Only, when it was decided that we were going somewhere across the city centre, I took my bags, as my boyfriend was in work and was taking me home, I was going to leave my bags in his office so I didn't have to trek back across town.
I was happily chatting away to him, when he started crying. My stomach dropped. He said "I don't know how to tell you this, but Sheldon...Sheldon's dead."
Well, that was it. I started crying, and only really stopped yesterday morning. It still comes, on and off.
After getting home from the vets, Sheldon played in the garden with our other kitten. He had his lunch (ate it all up!), had a nap, and when Matt left for work, he was playing outside again.
The neighbour knocked on the door, sometime later, saying one of our kittens was laying on the grass outside the house and not moving. Matt's mother went to check, and he was dead.
He had a little dried blood around his nose. We think his cough (bearing in mind he's had cat flu since he was a baby) got too much, that he coughed too hard and....it hurts to think about.
I'm glad he had a nice afternoon. I'm glad he was playing in the sun. I'm glad he gave me a kiss that morning.
I hate myself for not being there with him.
It's hit me the most because he was my kitten. He would follow me room to room, climb on me as soon as I sat down. Everytime I think of his little face, and the little silent meows he did, I cry again.
He was so loving, and never hurt a soul. It's so unfair.
We took him to Summerleaze Pet Crematorium the next day. I said goodbye in their little chapel of rest, and he had a private and independant cremation. We brough his asheshome in a little oak box, with a picture-frame lid. I didn't want to bury him because we won't be in this house forever, and I would hate to leave him behind.
I just...I've never felt grief like this. I've never cried so much, even over the death of a human.
Sawyer is sad, too. Not ibterested in her toys or anything. She bit Sheldon's box yesterday (we put it on top of the xbox, because he liked to sleep there) and patted it. She sits and stares at it, and sometimes cries. She won't stop looking for him.
It hits me the most when I go to feed her, and only fill one bowl.
I just wanted somewhere that I could write not goodbye - but a thank you. A thank you to the bravest, most loving little kitten the world will ever see. Thanks for being my friend, Sheldon. Thanks for loving me back, and thank you for being you.
I miss you, buddy.