My cat passed away three days ago, at night. I've never lost a friend to an illness before. Seeing the energy and life leaving such a young body was more than just heartbreaking. He was only 9. His name was Kuzja. Naming your cat Kuzja in Russia is almost like naming your son John in Britain. But somehow it made him even more special. Kuzja he was.
My first ever memory of him is his little voice, the literally «small» sound of his «meow» was so tender, so silent yet so clear you could tell how little his body was. The sound came from my father's jacket. My dad'd complained that he had to pay for the taxi just so that the little one wouldn't get scared. I jumped up to the doorway and saw a little white and grey kitten with a scratched nose. He smelled like a baby. We played for while until he fell asleep. I remember crying on that day because i wanted him to stay. He stayed.
He didn't like to be alone. At all. When he was little he slept with dad, because out of all of us dad moves the least in his sleep. Every time he would leave the room to have a smoke or a glass of water in the night, Kuzja would wake up and cry until someone would eventually enter the room. He hated alcohol, but loved olives. Sometimes he would check the bath while i was in it just to know if was okay. He was just as antisocial as I am. Everyone liked him, but he only liked his family. Once when he was young - mom, my brother and I went on vacation; grandma said he waited for us everyday in front of the door. If we were to eat he was as well, there was no discussion. Even if he already ate before.
The night before my first day in the office I had anxiety, Kuzja found his way to the bunk bed for the first time in many years and stayed with me. He was my emotional support. Every time I had a bad day I knew I would come home to someone, I knew someone was waiting for me. No matter how shitty some situations were, he was always there to cuddle with me, to put his little paw on my hand or my chest and to lay his little head on me. I was never this close with anyone, I probably never will be.
Home is not home without him. Today when I woke up I nearly called him to hear his little roar in return. Next moment I realised he won’t answer. I'm completely gutted. He was way too young to go. But I'm glad he's no longer suffering.
The last couple of months he tried to be as close to us as possible, literally. I understand now that he felt it. He would lie on our chests and try to get higher - closer to our heads. No matter how uncomfortable it was for him he would stay on our chests, shoulders and necks as long as he could. He was heavy so eventually we would put him on the bed, but he would climb up to our faces again. I know now that he tried to be with us while he still could. The energy left his body in less than two months, but his love never did. And he gave us all his love. He was that kind. His heart was full of love towards us.
Dear Kuzja, Tuz, Shmuz, Tuzkus.
My beautiful boy, my best friend, my heart, my home. You made me the happiest kid in the whole wide universe, I hope I made you happy too. I am forever grateful for every second, every moment we shared together. The scratches you left on my hands are still there, healing. The world isn't as bright as it was with you in it. You were my light on the darkest days, you burned the brightest. This light will carry on.
Love you to the moon and back. See you someday xx
titsay
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
snowghoul
baratheonpilled
