Roadkill

Luminara · September 5

I found him in the middle of a road, a year ago. I thought it was a piece of garbage, until his head popped up just as I was passing over him. He screamed so hard that he damaged his vocal cords, was never able to make more than a breath sound after that. But he lived. For just over one year, he lived. And I'm trying to console myself with that fact, that I gave him a year of life that he wouldn't have had without me. I'm trying, but it's not easing the grief.

He was special. He didn't have an outstanding coat, he wasn't particularly playful, but he was braver than any other cat I've ever known, and he was attached to me. When I looked into his eyes, I saw something I haven't seen since I lost Ivan. I saw a bond. Every day, every fucking day for the last year, he's walked up the path to greet me. All of the other cats scatter when I'm walking down to the cabin, but Roadkill always met me on the path. He'd been abandoned by his mother and nearly run over twice, I don't think he was afraid of anything after that.

To look at him, you would've thought he was just an ordinary cat. Plain, quiet, nothing special. But he was extraordinary. He was a companion. A lot of the other cats out here are affectionate, some even adore me to the point of climbing up my leg to be held, but Roadkill was the only one who made me feel like his world revolved around mine.

One year wasn't enough. He deserved more. I've had to bury a lot of cats and kittens over the last few years, but this is the one that threatens to break me, the way losing Ivan broke me.

I don't want sympathy, save the virtual hug bullshit for someone else. I just wanted at least this little corner of the world to know that he existed, loved, and was loved, because he was special, to me.