I don’t remember where we had went but our family headed out on a vacation somewhere. It was my brother Bruce, my step dad, and my mother. My brother Paul was left home alone. Where the story takes off is not when I was on vacation but when I returned from our little trip.
Even though my cat was a bastard for killing the mouse I still loved him. It was about a year after my cats murderous rampage but really I had forgiven him for giving into his natural instincts. I realized it wasn’t his fault he was made that way. That is who he was. He was born to kill and eat small creatures. So I let bygones be bygones and we began to chum it up not long after the demise of my friend the mouse.
We pulled up to our trailer only to see Paul sitting outside on the steps with a really sad look to him. His shoulders were slumped over and when he looked up at us he only smiled slightly. As we approached him he stood up and tears started coming out of his eyes. The door to the trailer was open and usually upon arrival my cat would be greeting my leg with his usual massage techniques. I quickly asked where he was. Paul, said, “Zane I am sorry but the cat is dead.” My heart sank. What the hell?? What did he mean he was dead. “How?! How did he die?!” I cried.
Paul explained that he had some friends over and they were fooling around. One of the guys pushed Paul out the door of the trailer and he fell down the stairs. Awaiting him at the bottom was my cat sitting on a steel grate. Needless to say Paul landed on him and broke the cats back. He then explained he had to put him out of his misery. Paul hugged me and said sorry. I forgave him. I knew he felt bad. I didn’t want him to feel bad. He picked me up and just held me for a bit. He then walked me to where he buried him and with tears streaming down my face I said my goodbyes.
This was yet another part of trying to make sense of a world that didn’t seem to make sense. Why do things die? Why do I feel pain? This was only a stepping stone.
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