Goodbye, Aidan

One day, while signing up to some investment forum, I looked around the room trying to think of a username.  A picture of our cat hung on the wall.  So I became BlackCat.

This is his story.

Early 2005.  My wife selected a black kitten from the SPCA.  On the taxi ride home, holding his box in my lap, I opened it and he stared into my eyes.  I knew he would be mine forever.

When we got home he was terrified.  We left him in a room to settle in.  He hid behind the curtains with his little feet showing.  I sat there for an hour to get him to come out.  My wife named him "Aidan".  I called him "cat".

He was scared of everything.  He would hide from the vacuum, from thunder, from any stranger at the door.  When I showered him he would howl like I was murdering him.  He hissed at the vet, who put multiple warnings under his name.

He loved us.  When you held him he purred loudly, you could feel the purrs go through you.  When he was purring in your arms, only the two of you existed and nothing else mattered.

He was demanding.  At dinner time he would meow loudly, a harsh "WAAAHHH", until I put the food bowl in front of him.  He would stand over it and scoff it down loudly.  Somehow, he loved strawberry leaves and yogurt.  He would meow with a psycho look until you gave it to him, then after he gobbled it down he would demand more.

Affectionate, demanding, loud and scared.  Through 14 years he was there for us, through a parade of different jobs, through ups and downs.  Whatever happened, I could pick him up, feel him purr, and everything would be OK.

Late in 2018 he began peeing outside the litter box.  The vet did an MRI scan and said he had a large tumor.  Couldn't tell if it was cancerous, and couldn't operate because he was too old.  "I'm sorry I can't tell you anything good.  Spend some time with him."

We put him in diapers.  Gradually he got slower, walking with a drunken gait.  After his back legs stopped working he would drag himself around with his front legs.  He still loudly demanded food and scoffed it down.  He was stubborn.  When I came home from work he would demand loudly to be picked up.  He rocked sideways with excitement when I reached for him.  I'd put him in my lap and he'd purr and fall asleep.

Last weekend, I had to hold him up to eat his food.  I knew.  I think he did too.  On the last night, he was lying down, couldn't move.  I fed him some yogurt - I can still see his little pink tongue licking it off the spoon.  The vet came the next day.  I held my hand over his little head as he went to sleep for the final time.

Thank You, Aidan.  You bought us joy.  RIP Aidan 2005-2021.