Murphy, our family's cat over the past 15 years, passed away today. He was crushed under the wheel of my mother's car. She was terribly shaken up by it and she felt like she was a bad person for doing it. Fact is, poor Murph was just too old to move that quickly, and part of me wants to believe that he just didn't feel like moving out of the way. Poor little buddy.
I saw Murph last night when visiting my folks. Man, he was gettin' up there. Not much more than skin and bones and old matted fur. He had his characteristic growl-meow and still would come up to you, but it was getting hard for him.
I feel awful about the whole ordeal, but I feel especially for my mom. After she crushed him, she had to see what had happened. She called Joel who called me. I was immediately sickened. Thank God I was in my car, about two blocks from the office, because I had to just sit there and take a breather. My next thought was to get up there before John or anyone else saw what happened. My poor mother. I asked her to run out there to put a box over Murph, but she couldn't. She couldn't subject herself to seeing him again. My mother does not handle death and mutilation well, I suppose. I then raced up there to beat John. If my mother wasn't going to hide "the situation," then I didn't want John to discover what had happened by seeing a crushed cat on the driveway.
As Ash and I drove up to my parent's driveway, we steeled ourselves for what we were about to see. Ash and I gave ourselves assurances that we would be able to handle what we saw. I warned her to look away as we climbed over the driveway. Too late. Nothing. John had beaten us home. He had already grabbed Murphy, wrapped him in his favorite blanket, and taken him to the vet for disposal. The driveway had been sprayed down. A heavy weight was lifted from my shoulders.
Do Cats go to heaven (or heaven-like place?) I don't know. I suppose why not. What does it hurt, right? All I know is that I'm doing pretty okay considering the circumstances, and the only way I can figure that feeling out is that I know that Murphy is much better off.
Murph, I'll miss you little buddy. You were a cat who would fetch bouncy balls. When I came home from college, you would sneak into my room at night and sleep on my head. You could kick the ass of most cats, and as recently as a month ago, you kicked the ass of my 50-pound dog, Lola. You were a constant source of comfort, sleepiness, laziness and goodness over the last many years. Thank you buddy. I'll always miss you.
