A few days ago, I lost a beloved family pet.
He wasn’t just any ol’ cat with bushy tabby/white-colored fur, crinkled up ear, and eyes too big for his head. Nor was he a simple companion for the sole purpose of entertainment.
He was family.
If Mischief could talk, he would never say who his favorite human was, though it was pretty obvious. He and my father were inseparable. So much so, that when I had come home from a week’s vacation and went to collect him and my other cat from my parents, they politely told me I could only bring Pepper home with me. Mischief was staying with them. No if’s and/or but’s. Arguments were futile.
In the short time we had Mischief (only 3-4 years even though he was 7), this little furry bundle wormed his way deep into our hearts and confidently planted himself there. The first day he met my parents, instead of running away and hiding under my bed, he asked my father to pick him up. Instead of trying to steal food from our plates, he would ask for hugs and rub his mouth all over our ears.
Mischief didn’t have the greatest start in this life. Most of his early years are unknown, but what I do know is by the time he was 4, he had 5 previous owners. It wasn’t because he was a destructive cat or anything – he was actually one of the sweetest cats I’ve ever met – it was the people. It seemed like no matter who took him in, they were either heavy into drugs, always moving, or something else. And yet, when it was my turn to have him, he was still as lovable and sweet as could be.
True to his name, Mischief was the embodiment of all things naughty and pranks. One of his favorite pastimes was to open up all the cupboards and rummage through all the dishes stored in them. He also liked to sit on the kitchen table and wait for people to come home, slowly wagging his great big bushy tail and blink at us while purring away when he knew he wasn’t supposed to be up there. And yet, his prankster behavior would always be made up by mewing these tiny girly squeaks and then sitting on his hind legs, reaching up for a hug.
Without even a warning, this cat had us wrapped around his little paws.
The point I’m trying to make is that to anyone else in this world, he was just a cat. He was just a four-legged creature that happened to live under the same roof as us humans.
But to my family, he was more. He was a wonderful bright light in this dark world, always ready to make us laugh. He was the best snuggler known to humanity. He loved without measure or limit.
We didn’t just lose a cat on Wednesday… we lost a chunk of our hearts. We lost a member of our family.
A family isn’t only made out of a mommy, daddy, and human children. It’s made out of all sorts of different shapes and sizes: some families have two mommies, some have two daddies, and some have a mom, a dad, one human kid, and 4-5 furry children. A family member is still a family member, no matter the species.
Not going to lie, it’s going to be a while before our hearts begin to heal. It’s something that we’re going to have to grieve on in our own time. It’s what you do when you lose a family member. So for now, we grieve, we remember, and we pray he’s up in Heaven, chasing leaves, lounging in the sun, and snuggling with our other loved ones waiting for us to join them.
L.J. LaBree 