Cat Funeral

Baby Max


Max was buried last night by all four of us in the back yard. According to cat age calculations, he was 86 human years old. My parents had put him on his favorite pillow case and put him in the garage for storage until burial. All of us got our time to say goodbye. I went in hoping he died curled up sleeping. He died in mid-stretch so the rigor mortis is quite striking. His fur and paws felt normal but his ears and tail were stiff. I think the grossest part weere his eyes: open and sunken.

Pre-burial, we went through albums and found as many pictures of him as possible. My mom scanned them into collages. They are now adorning my cubicle and apartment walls. I loved Max very much but since I'm the oldest, I was only around for 8 of his 17 years. I feel bad for my brother, Steve. A while ago, Steve told me that he felt like Max was his brother. They used to play all the time and had special attack games. Maybe that's why my brother dug the burial hole. When we were talking about Max last night, we remembered how he didn't have the heart to really bite us. He'd half-heartedly chomp on us without breaking skin and then would lick us to say sorry.

Just remembering what my life was like from age 13 onward, Max witnessed a lot in our family. I remember how he'd tentatively nudge himself into my room when I was crying on my bed. No matter how bad my Dad messed with me, Max was always there to comfort me. As I was falling asleep last night, I also remembered how when Max was younger he was fascinated with what we did in the bathroom. Since he knew how to work a doorknob, he'd come in perch himself on the edge of the tub and watch us do our business. He was a weirdo and he'll be missed.