Grover Cleveland

Grover Cleveland

with us

September 11 to November 8, 2010

Forever part of our family

To my Grovey:

Nothing could have prepared your Dad and I for walking into your room this week and finding you dead. I'm sorry your Dad had to go through that; I wish it had been me who found you first. I could hear the pain in your Dad's scream as he came to the realization of what happened to you. It didn't really hit me until I walked into the bathroom and saw you laying there peacefully, but lifelessly. Even then, how can you process something like that? I had seen you less than twelve hours before. You were walking around upstairs, taunting Gus through the baby gate, just like normal. How is it that you could now be dead? How does a cat go from completely normal to dead, just like that?

When you came into our lives less than two months ago, it was a hard day. It was the one-year anniversary of when we had last seen our Mr. Squiggles. I don't think you can ever know what your emergence into our lives that day did for us; you saved us. What was going to be an awful day turned into a day filled with love. We were so focused on saving you and enveloping you into our family that we hardly had time to focus on our pain. You were so skinny and sick-looking, covered in mats and missing hair. You needed us, but we needed you too.

The instant we decided to bring you home, you were a part of our family, our son. You were so loving and grateful to be in a warm, safe place with all the food you could eat. I remember I would lay on the bed with you, and you would inspect my face up close, then rub your mouth against my cheeks: the wettest kitty kisses ever. It was kind of gross, but really, Dad and I loved it.

We loved that you would stick your paws under the door, waiting for Gus or Sam to see it, so you guys could taunt each other. We loved that anticipation on your face, like you couldn't wait to start your game. We loved walking into your room and seeing you sleeping on the comforter next to the window. Sometimes you wouldn't even run to greet us, because your sleeping spot was way cooler. We loved seeing you play with Juliet, your round ball toy/scratcher. I loved seeing you fall asleep draped across her. How silly.

We loved your long tail, which was the longest I've ever seen in a cat. We loved how in the early days before you were strong, that your tail would drag on the floor. We loved that you loved to eat, that you finally had access to enough food. We loved the high-pitched trill you had for a meow, unlike any other meow we've ever heard! It was the strangest sound, and it made us laugh every time. We loved that you hated crocheted afghans and wouldn't lay on them, and would even go out of your way not to walk on them either. We loved that you slept on the back of the chair next to the door, waiting for it to open and perhaps allow the entrance of one of the cats you were so obsessed with.

I'm sorry that you had diarrhea. We gave you slippery elm, hoping that it would get better for you. Some days it did, some days it didn't. I'm sorry your liver was sick too. I hope there wasn't anything else we could have done to make it better; you took your medicine like such a good boy though. I'm sorry we didn't get more pictures with you. I'm sorry you never got a chance to live downstairs with the rest of the family. I'm sorry you never got to go outside. I'm sorry you never met Indiana. I'm sorry we never took video of the adorable noises you made. I'm sorry I didn't spend more time with you. I'm sorry I never got a chance to truly know the real you. I thought there would be more time.

Your Dad and I did the best we could, but I hope you know that in our hearts, you were our son, and we will always love you. Some have suggested that you were sick before we got you, and that your short time with us was so you could end your life as part of a loving family. Perhaps you were meant to "usher" Mr. Squiggles back into our lives, and after he returned, your time here was done. All I know is that your time with us was too short. I have feared every moment for the last two days that I may have missed something that could have saved you. I pray that I didn't let you down somehow.

For one glorious month, our family was finally complete. It was so crazy with 5 cats and 2 dogs, but it felt whole. Now our family is incomplete again, and there is nothing we can do to change it. It feels empty upstairs without you, and I can still see you everywhere I look. We keep the door to the bathroom closed, because we can still see your dead body lying there too. 5 cats seemed so chaotic, but now 4 just seems like too few.

Dad and I are sorry that we sent you off for necropsy, but as your death was so sudden and unexpected, we needed to make sure your brothers couldn't have caught something from you. Please understand that we would never have done it just for our own gain. I know the animal hospice place will take good care of you, and hopefully you will be back home to us soon, where you belong.

We are so sad that we never got to celebrate Christmas with you, but we will still make you an ornament for the tree, just like everyone else. I don't know if I can bear to make a stocking for you though; would you forgive me for that? Dad and I also plan on making a nice memorial to you. We haven't decided on what yet, but we will make sure it suits you. We will cry for you, and we will miss you. You will always be a part of our family, and you will always, always be our son.