101+ Words for a Dead Cat

When I was a kid, my dad had a book 101 Uses for a Dead Cat that I found amusing. I'd probably still find it funny, except for last Saturday, when we found that Servo had gone to make his kitty Maker. Under the couch. He'd been sick for a while, skinnier than was good for him, in fact, on Friday, I petted him and thought him frighteningly skinny. He vomited later that evening and Jim and I discussed taking him to the vet on Monday to have him put to sleep. He vomited nearly every day for the last several weeks. He didn't seem in pain, but what do I know? Servo would just hide after he vomited, which I attributed to not liking our reaction to his vomiting. He didn't refuse food, but judging by his weight loss, he was not getting any of the nutrients into his system, but probably vomiting the food back up. Sigh.

My tribute to Servo: You have been a good kitty. You were good around new people in the house, in fact, I'd say you were curious about them and liked to hang out where the people were. You certainly liked to hang around me, especially while I was working. You'd sit facing the door, and I attributed this to protecting me from anything that could come through the door. You were vocal about food and frequently the kids were woken up by your mewling for food at 6 a.m. (although not this past summer). Your cyst was gross, but it will be a part of what we remember about you. I enjoyed showing off your skill at catching cat treats to friends. You and Magic were very good at it, Magic still is, by the way, but I think he's kind of baffled as to why you haven't been there trying to catch treats with him. He's been searching the house for your and complaining about your absence. I've tried to explain it to him but he doesn't get it--he seems upset that you've left him. You two have never been apart. Your eyes were intelligent. Visitors claimed you were a beautiful cat, I'm glad you didn't let it get to your head. I'm glad I took the time to give you a good head scratch on Friday and that my last words to you weren't a result of exasperation. I miss you, but not the near-constant fur clumps you left behind everywhere you sat. Still, you were a pretty, grey kitty.