Over the past year or so I have begun to analyze certain things that pertain to my life from a more realistic perspective. One thing in particular has noticeably affected me. My fourteen-year-old cat Alex, about 81 years of age in human terms hasn’t that much time left on this planet. My first real friendship and also the longest friendship I’ve ever had will come to a close eventually. He is my pet, but I cherish him like a brother and even a son.
I feel as if I’ve grown up a lot while wrestling with the idea of not having him and how I will remember him farther down the future. I can get very emotional thinking about it, but those emotions are only second to spending time with my trustworthy companion.
I received Alex as a birthday present on my fourth birthday. My mom obtained Alex through a friend who worked for the SPCA. Before we had Alex my mom had received a female Siamese cat through this friend. Knowing of my mom’s personal affection towards Siamese cats, my mom’s friend quickly offered my mom another Siamese cat, but this one was a male.
I fell in love with Alex the moment I saw him. He was only 6 weeks old and still so preciously small and adorable. He was somewhat frightened by the new environment so my mom and I were forced to lock him in the bathroom with us while we tried to soothe his anxiety. The bathroom incident is something I’ll never forget when I think of my pet.
While in the bathroom I told my mom and needed to pee (I was only four years old) so I handed over Alex to her. I did my business, flushed the toilet and gestured to take back Alex. I hadn’t closed the toilet seat yet, and Alex being rather frisky slipped out of my grip and into the toilet. He was small enough to be swimming in the toilet and at that moment I gained a rather deep affection for my new wily friend.
He was very trustworthy from the start, which was essential for me in order to spend such an abundant amount of time with him. As a young kid I was always around the house if I wasn’t at school and having my brother being born about three years of having Alex allowed me to spend a considerable time with just Alex.
The early bondage we engaged in by wrestling, playing and me just caressing his soft fur enabled us to sustain a long companionship. My brother can pick up on Alex’s favouritism towards me and is always jealous when I say I’m Alex’s father. From my days as a kindergartener through being an upcoming senior in high school, Alex and I have been the truest of friends.
Because he is an animal it emphasizes the purity of which I care for him. He never has done anything to harm me intentionally and he only reciprocates when I offer warmth. His loud purring indicates his utter pleasant state when we are together. Moments like him lying comfortably across my legs, stomach down and having him gently paw leg are intensely satisfying. Sometimes he even suckles on my sweatshirt like I’m breastfeeding him and while it tickles I can usually endure it for like a minute and a half because it’s such a raw outpour of love. Whenever I see Alex I gravitate towards him like he’s magnetic.
As he beings to seriously age it invokes new scarier emotions. I sincerely hope he doesn’t pass before I go to college. I can’t imagine what living in my house without Alex would feel like. I think if I’ll remember all the fond moments we shared. I think of how I will remember how he looked. I think if I will ever have a pet that I’m as emotionally attached to. Thinking these thoughts really have made me spend as much time possible with as I can. He’s still in great health but he has a bit of a limp, which is only getting worse.
But for the most part, he is the same loving and giving cat that I remember in my youth. Coming to grips with the inevitable is hard. I deal with it slowly by realizing that once he dies I will look back and realize how fulfilling our relationship was. It is still very tough to address a future pain that I would almost prefer to act ignorant about.
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