My parents decided to put down a cat we’ve had for about 10 years. Rajah was a lovable, but annoying, orange-colored fat cat. According to some people in the family, Rajah was “my” cat.
Rajah had been very sick lately, and the Sioux Falls humane society was only going to put him down, so my father did the deed himself. Rajah has been a big part of this family. At first we thought he was a girl. Then he needed surgery on his tibia.
He shed. He liked to get in your face. He didn’t always smell good. He acted more like a dog than our dogs did. But, for all his annoyances, I’m not sure how I feel about this. I’m not sure how much of an impact it’s having on me right now. I don’t deal well with change and death. Distance is nonexistance.
Dying is just being far away. And being far away is like being dead. Rajah is just far away. Too far to see or hear. Too far to call back to the house. But I know he’s in the backyard. A year ago yesterday, Father Ray went far away. Too far to offer advice or council. Too far to be a friend. But I know he’s at Blue Cloud. He knew Rajah. Maybe they are far away together.
Almost too far to love. Almost too far to remember.
Almost.