My little Tisch is dying really fast. It seems her body is already cooling and her gait is all wobbly and drunk. Her kidneys are three-quarters shut down and the surfeit of unprocessed toxins has spaced out her brain. She’s in the netherworld. But she cuddles herself against me, and against him with whom she fell so deeply in love four months ago when he arrived from Africa. If I call her she turns and tries to focus. I have thanked her for all the beautiful companionship she’s given, for caring for me when I couldn’t look after myself. So tiny. So soft. So narrow and wise. She was lost for a lifetime – five months – on the hectic streets of inner-city Melbourne, and came back to me. She kept guard over my father while he was dying of cancer and sat curled in a little loaf watching over his body, by his head while he cooled to that stone. She is my love. My best family. Every morning she always comes in to keep me company in the bathroom, if I take a bath she wants to sit on the bathroom scales and gaze rapt into the smoking clear water. The teenaged cat with bilby ears who came up as I was inspecting the cute kittens and sank her pointed face into the hinge of my hip. She’s lived with me in Adelaide, in Melbourne, in Brisbane and I will bury her secretly somewhere in Berlin. She will spend half her afterlife frozen. When she got off the plane forty hours from Brisbane via Sydney bewildered and stinking in her own juice the Persian taxi driver said, let her out, and she instantly lay down along the length of my thigh and wrapped her long arms around me and stopped yowling. That was a scant year ago and soon she will be a tiny furry corpse. My little girl. My love.
Tisch.
Comments
13 responses to “Tisch.”
-
So sorry to hear about Tisch’s illness. It is very hard to say good-bye. Cats are heartbreak animals. We just lost our Lydia last month – still grieving everyday. Wish you all the best, Gary
-
Dear Gary, I’m so sorry. Poor little Lydia, and what a beautiful pussly name you gave her. It is comforting to share the commonality of grief. Thank you x
-
-
Howl if you must. I feel as if I know her, you’ve written so beautifully about her and the cloud of love between you.
-
What a beautiful thing to say, Sophie. Thank you, how comforting you are. Yes, I’ve no fear of howling for love. She is droll and sometimes still makes me giggle. I am moved that she is still striving to be courteous by wobbling all the way across the room to pee on the bath mat now she can’t climb into her tray. Animals can be so beautifully thoughtful.
-
-
Cathoel I don’t have the words to make anything better for you… but it is her time, her choice to spend her last moments with the person who loves her most. She will always be with you. 💖💋😢
-
That’s wise, Maz. Thank you. I am loving spending this time with her and caring for her. X
-
-
Oh I am so sorry, Cathoel. Sorry for both of you. But what a testament to her love for you, and yours for her!
-
I am so sorry, Cathoel. She sounds like she has been an absolute blessing and will be forever nestled in against your heart.
-
Ohh Cathoel… I feel your so very profound shared love and the impending separation of her passing on… What a divine creature being 😻
I have no words… But know many of us share your grief and you are not alone in that. So much love ♡ -
Oh, so sorry. It’s heartbreaking when they have to leave us ❤️
-
Your best family…oh my heart hurts for you, Cathoel. She’s your family and your history and your home. I’m so glad you brought her to Europe to spend this Last year with you. So much love and sympathy xxx
-
I am so sad for the losing of this beautiful friend. Lovely that you have spent this past year with her and shared so much love. Little Tisch. xx
-
Darling.
Grief is hard, real, and cannot be avoided. It is the mirror of love.
My heart goes out to you.
Leave a Reply to Pat Winters Cancel reply