My heart still hurts from losing Black Kitty in May 2016. Then I lost his grandson, Blackie1 in February this year. Now I have no more little panthers at all!
Blackie2 was a great kitty, but he was never as cuddly as the rest. He’d come in the house for a few minutes, but he was never one to jump in my lap on his own. I tried to convince him that I just wanted to love on him, but he was way too aloof. He’d usually let me pet him for about five minutes, but then he’d get tired of it and try to bite me. Sometimes he’d grab a finger and just sit there, like he knew he really shouldn’t hurt me.
A few weekends ago, I sat outside on Friday night playing with all the cats like I usually do every night. They all wandered off fairly quickly, except for Blackie2. He wanted to hang out with me longer than usual. He stretched out on the steps and let me rub his belly. He’s only let me do that maybe three times before. He was almost asleep but then jumped up with a start, like he realized he was letting me get too close for comfort.
He wasn’t around Saturday morning or evening. I figured he’d come back like they always do, so I was only slightly worried when he didn’t show up Sunday morning. I never got to love on him again.
My son came by around noon on Sunday, and I was telling him that he really needed to take a baby kitty home with him. He always says no. Then I told him Blackie2 was AWOL. He looked at me for a minute then said, “There’s a black cat right up at the end of the road.” My heart sank, but I was trying to play it off. I told him to go see if the cat had white under his chin, and he said he wasn’t sure there was anything left to check. He told me there was nothing I could do and not to go look. Of course, he knew that I would.
So after my son left, I went down the road hoping it wasn’t my Blackie2. I didn’t touch him, because there was obviously not a damn thing I could do then, but I pulled over and just stared at him for several minutes, still hoping it wasn’t him. He was still intact from about the hips up, and even though his head was upside down, I couldn’t see any white on his chest. I rode around to the other side and still couldn’t confirm if it was him or not. There’s another black cat that hangs around and eats my food sometimes, but I can never get close to him. He’s healthy enough so someone else is feeding him regularly. I went back home knowing I should do something, whether he was my cat or not, but instead I did nothing, and I hate myself for that. By the time I went back, someone else had moved what was left of him.
He was lying in the middle of the main road almost on a hill just a few feet to the right of my road, so I tried to convince myself that he had been hit Sunday night and wasn’t there when I left my house TWICE on Saturday. If I had seen him then, I would’ve done something….I don’t know what exactly. All I can do now is pray that his death was instant. I can’t stand the thought of him lying there suffering when his home was RIGHT HERE. Maybe he was on his way home, maybe not. I’ll never know.
I didn’t know then, but I know now it was definitely him. The other black cat showed up one morning a few days later. He always looked scratched up, but now he’s got two big chunks of fur missing on his back, like someone took a knife and just cut out squares. I feel bad for him, but I feel worse for my Blackie2. He died alone, just like his brother did.
I’m sorry, little panther #3. R(un) in peace with your grandpa and your brother.
I love and miss you all!
Blackie2 was a great kitty, but he was never as cuddly as the rest. He’d come in the house for a few minutes, but he was never one to jump in my lap on his own. I tried to convince him that I just wanted to love on him, but he was way too aloof. He’d usually let me pet him for about five minutes, but then he’d get tired of it and try to bite me. Sometimes he’d grab a finger and just sit there, like he knew he really shouldn’t hurt me.
A few weekends ago, I sat outside on Friday night playing with all the cats like I usually do every night. They all wandered off fairly quickly, except for Blackie2. He wanted to hang out with me longer than usual. He stretched out on the steps and let me rub his belly. He’s only let me do that maybe three times before. He was almost asleep but then jumped up with a start, like he realized he was letting me get too close for comfort.
He wasn’t around Saturday morning or evening. I figured he’d come back like they always do, so I was only slightly worried when he didn’t show up Sunday morning. I never got to love on him again.
My son came by around noon on Sunday, and I was telling him that he really needed to take a baby kitty home with him. He always says no. Then I told him Blackie2 was AWOL. He looked at me for a minute then said, “There’s a black cat right up at the end of the road.” My heart sank, but I was trying to play it off. I told him to go see if the cat had white under his chin, and he said he wasn’t sure there was anything left to check. He told me there was nothing I could do and not to go look. Of course, he knew that I would.
So after my son left, I went down the road hoping it wasn’t my Blackie2. I didn’t touch him, because there was obviously not a damn thing I could do then, but I pulled over and just stared at him for several minutes, still hoping it wasn’t him. He was still intact from about the hips up, and even though his head was upside down, I couldn’t see any white on his chest. I rode around to the other side and still couldn’t confirm if it was him or not. There’s another black cat that hangs around and eats my food sometimes, but I can never get close to him. He’s healthy enough so someone else is feeding him regularly. I went back home knowing I should do something, whether he was my cat or not, but instead I did nothing, and I hate myself for that. By the time I went back, someone else had moved what was left of him.
He was lying in the middle of the main road almost on a hill just a few feet to the right of my road, so I tried to convince myself that he had been hit Sunday night and wasn’t there when I left my house TWICE on Saturday. If I had seen him then, I would’ve done something….I don’t know what exactly. All I can do now is pray that his death was instant. I can’t stand the thought of him lying there suffering when his home was RIGHT HERE. Maybe he was on his way home, maybe not. I’ll never know.
I didn’t know then, but I know now it was definitely him. The other black cat showed up one morning a few days later. He always looked scratched up, but now he’s got two big chunks of fur missing on his back, like someone took a knife and just cut out squares. I feel bad for him, but I feel worse for my Blackie2. He died alone, just like his brother did.
I’m sorry, little panther #3. R(un) in peace with your grandpa and your brother.
I love and miss you all!
