Hi, Hiveans!
I like writing cat poetry; it is usually children's lit, and I'd rather write about funny and happy topics. Today I want to share a beautiful but sad story, the story of my beloved Chivitas, my own Jellicle cat.
This is my entry to the Stories Of Our Little Angels CONTEST by #HivePets. Just click and join in.
Chivitas, My Angelical Jellicle Cat
Jellicle Cats are white and black,
Jellicle Cats are of moderate size;
Jellicles jump like a jumping-jack,
Jellicle Cats have moonlit eyes.
They're quiet enough in the morning hours,
they are quiet enough in the afternoon,
reserving their terpsichorean powers
to dance by the light of the Jellicle Moon.
--From "The Song of the Jellicles"
in Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats
by T.S. Elliot
Chivas, or Chivitas was a tuxedo cat, and the only male cat I've ever had. Now he is an angel, yes. But before, he was definitely a natural son of the muse Terpsichore, for he loved meowing through the night; like any Jellicle cat, he loved to dance by the light of the Jellicle Moon.
Chivas came into my life at the moment I needed him most and then he left unexpectedly, leaving me heartbroken. A year has passed and still, very occasionally, I get a lump in my throat when I open the kitchen door and he is not there to meow good morning to me. Sometimes, I avoid looking at his pictures because I can't help but think that maybe I could have saved him if I had been there when he came asking for help. This is our story:
Two years ago my boyfriend's family left the country. Their house was then left empty, with no one to care for it. So we decided to move in.
.
.
And this meant adopting a new house, with its big spaces and gardens, but also with a lot of obligations and hard work to be done. The best part, it came with children: four cats, three dogs, five tortoises, a parrot and even some hens.
.
.
Chivas was one of these four cats and the most special; he was the male alpha both inside the house and outside, two blocks around.
I started feeding, helping protect and having neutered/spayed stray cats ten years ago. I do it mostly with nearby colonies. When I came to this new home I decided, naturally, that we had to get the cats (and dogs) to the vet and get them neutered/spayed. Chivas was the one I was most concerned about, as he would roam all over the neighborhood. And as he was so sociable, anyone could take advantage of him and hurt him. He was an innocent soul.
He was three years old already, but as he was so gentle and cuddly, I thought that after the surgery, he would calm down and start being more at home.
.
.
But the worst happened.
I have taken at least thirty cats to get this surgery. For seven years I had always taken them on the spay/neuter days for cats organized by a local foundation. I had never lost a friend; everything had always gone perfectly and the best thing, I always got to find a home for them.
One day after the surgery, the two female cats just died and three days later, the two male cats died. You can imagine how I felt, like a cat killer. I knew I was doing the right thing, but I still blamed myself every day after that. Some pathology shared by the four cats, some problem with the anesthesia, I will never know. And I will miss them all forever, but most of all, I’ll miss Chivitas as long as I live. Why? Well...
Chivas trusted me completely. Without explanation, he wouldn't leave my side for a second. I don't deny that I was worried about the peace when I finally brought my four cats, as he was quite possessive of me, but still, I did encourage him, and it was a love that grew like I never imagined. He would snuggle like a baby and fall asleep in my arms. And no matter what I was doing, he would come and jump on my lap.
The morning Chivas died, I hadn’t arrived home, for I had to house-sit for my father, who was out of town at a relative’s funeral. When I finally got home at eight a.m., he was lying in the middle of the garden, his little body lifeless; clearly, he had come to scratch at the kitchen door, to call me for help, but this time, unlike all the other times before, I never appeared. I wasn't there.
.
.
That is, so far, the saddest day of my life.
Had I been asked to speak (or write) about this a year ago, I wouldn't have been able to do it.
If you wish, you can click here and see Chivitas kneading on my belly while we listened to jazz. (He made many little holes in all my pijamas.)
Text and photos are mine.
Thanks for the visit,
and for loving our furry friends.