The Cat

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
battling stage 3 cancer for a while, a mother drops subtle hints about wanting to let go after dealing with the family pet dying of kidney disease. This is a true story that happened to me. Interpret it however you like.

Submitted: April 17, 2015

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Submitted: April 17, 2015

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The Cat

  She sat on the edge of the bed. Thoughts had been racing through her head, leading her into a place she’d never seen before. Before today. Before yesterday. Before all of this happened, and before her life had gone to shit. No, she was not poor. No, she was not ill. Not tired or hungry, not cold or scared. Just alone.

The cat tip-toed into her room. Its legs barely able to hold its frail body. Skin and bones were all that was left of the poor creature, for her end was near. She knew it. The girl knew it. Mother knew it. Hell, everyone knew it, but nobody accepted it.

The girl held the cat in her arms, whispering words of comfort in the time of excruciating pain the soul had felt. Kidney disease. That’s all there was to it. It had been a great 18 years, and a life well spent. That’s what the girl told the cat, every night. Every night before the injections. Though they could not save her, they enabled her to hold on just a bit longer. The pain wouldn’t go away. The suffering did not end. The liquid being infused into the cat’s skin was only meant to keep her kicking.

 

The girl carried the cat downstairs. She passed the living room, where her sister lay on the ground crying. What was it today? She turned her head the other way, not wanting to be of witness again. “Shhh,” she said to the cat. “She’ll be okay.” A tear had begun to dance down her jawline. “You’ll be okay.”

She set the cat down onto a chair in the kitchen. Wiping away the sadness that had begun to stream down her face, she walked towards her mother’s room. At first, she was hesitant. Hesitant to see what lied ahead of her. Hesitant to think of the possibilities. Hesitant to think. Was now the right time? She forced the door open, only to find the bed empty. “Mom?” she said. “Where are you?”

“I’m over here.” The girl followed the voice and stopped when she spotted her mother sitting in the reclining chair. She wasn’t in bed. This had only meant one thing. Fuck…Fuck fuck fuck…not today, not today, please God, not today. “Mom, how bad is it?”

The green eyes scanned her daughter’s face. “How bad is what?” The girl kept the empty expression painted on her face. “The pain?” Silence hung in the air. “Ive gotten over it. Its unbearable, but I have no other choice. I cant predict what the treatment  does to me.” The girl didn’t say anything. What could she say? Was there really anything left to be spoken at this point?

The cat slowly crept through the doorway. The girl’s mother looked down at it, emotion draining from her face. “Look at the poor thing.” The girl just kept looking at her mother. “She’s just…gone.”

The girl ignored what she said. Her eyes were fixed on the small red rash that was forming on her mother’s forearm. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Have you taken your medication today?”

Her mother kept her eyes fixed on the cat. “Poor kitty.”

“Mom-“

“No matter what we do, we can’t save her.”

“Mom, LISTEN to me-“

“It’s a shame. Shes so old yet so young. She doesn’t deserve-“

“Mom, did you take your medications today, or not?”

“She’s so skinny.”

“Mom! Answer me!”

“You know the medication her give her can only keep her with us for so long, right?”

“For fuck’s sake mom-“

Her mother looked up. Her eyes seemed to have gone hundreds of shades darker.  “We should just let her go. She’s suffering.”


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