Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Today would have been the tenth birthday of my super awesome fat homo cat, Nagi, who passed away in January of 2009. I know that it’s probably a weird thing to blog about – the birthday of a long dead cat, but whatever. That cat was more human than about 95% of the people I have met throughout my life, so I think that writing about him is totally allowed and not weird or anything.
See, the thing about Nagi’s death is that it was untimely; even though he was classified as “geriatric” he was still pretty young when he passed – he had only turned eight a few months prior. Unfortunately, he had a giant tumor growing behind his sternum that nobody knew about until our veterinarian was kind enough to perform a necropsy for me (and even he was blown away by his findings; the tumor was roughly the size of an adult male fist). Said tumor ruptured and bled out one night, causing the cat to scream before literally dropping dead just outside of my bedroom. (Can I just say that the sound of death is absolutely terrifying? Because it is.)
It goes without saying that when I think about Nagi, I like to push the image of his still warm corpse out of my mind as much as possible -- it's just one of those things that I like to do. Even though a lot of people knew him as surly and a little unfriendly, Nagi was actually an amazing guy. Very smart, very loving, and very loyal. After a shitty day at work he was always there to steal my side of the bed and violate my personal space. It was like having an enormous, gay pillow… with feet!
|It really didn't get much better than this.|
Unfortunately, Nagi’s death had one other lasting effect: it left us with Gizmo.
Gizmo is a cat that my husband and I adopted from the Humane Society during my six month stint under their employment. He was only four months old at the time, and extremely cute. He also had the terrible misfortune of being dubbed Papa DeChulo before being abandoned in front of the shelter in a cat carrier. He took to my husband immediately, which was part of why we brought him home with us (the other reason we adopted him was because we thought that Nagi was lonely). Little did we know was that the Artist Formerly Known as Papi Chulo was -- IS -- dumb. Like, seriously DUMB. I think back to Nagi, and then I look at Gizmo, who flips out and thinks that he’s starving to death if even the slightest bit of the bottom of his food bowl is visible under his food, and I can’t help but to ask, “What the fuck happened to YOU?!”
Don’t get me wrong: Gizmo is a great cat in his own way – he’s extremely good with children, which is more than I can say about Nagi, who was absolutely terrible with the wee ones, and he’s really sweet, but other than that, Giz just doesn’t have a whole lot of redeeming qualities. He is extremely jumpy (shittiest guard cat ever), he has yet to grasp the whole concept of “Come here,” and his breath is horrible. He has also taken to sleeping on my head, which would be extremely endearing if it didn’t involve his massive, half-maine coon body stretching out over my pillow and barely leaving room for my goddamn head. Also, he is almost six years old and has no idea how to open a door. What the shit kind of cat can’t figure out how to pry a door open with their paw(s)?!
Gizmo is very dear to me, but the sad truth is that I can’t look at him without thinking about how great Nagi was, and how very much I still miss that son of a bitch.