My daughter’s cat, Xerxes, died this weekend.  He was a wonderful cat who loved my daughter best in our family.  He slept with her at night and looked for her when she was away.  Dealing with death is a part of life that we as parents have to share with our children.  It may be the very worst part of life and among the hardest things we must share. 

We had two cats. Both were rescues from families who did not want to deal with their problems.  Peter had house training issues, while Xerxes drooled and teared excessively.  Xerxes took to Monika immediately; most likely it was her patience with having a cat drool on her.  Monika would clean his eyes every morning of their dark gunk without complaint.  She loved and cared for him so responsibly.

Our cats are primarily indoor cats. . . primarily.  In other words, we want them to be indoor cats.  Allowing cats to go outside shortens the lives of cats on average by 10 years.  Cars are the primary killers of cats.  It was a car that killed Xerxes. 

In the summertime, doors are left open, kids are out of doors, and cats like to be where the fun is.  We let our cats outside only when we are there to watch them.  Allowing Peter to go out for just a few minutes in the morning was all he needed to fix his sand box aversion.   For some strange reason he enjoys doing his business on the grass like a dog.  In the winter, he’s not too happy and often prefers a towel, (or someone’s jacket left on the floor) but he’ll settle for a sandbox with pine pellets if that is all there is.  It’s funny and kind of endearing.  Now letting Peter out seems more dangerous than ever before.

Xerxes liked to sit on our porch on hot summer days with me while I sat nearby working.  I usually made sure he came back in and that last night I saw him, he did come in, but I failed to shut the door behind him.  Having left it open to finish up a few things, I shut it later hoping he was still in, but he wasn’t.  I went to bed hoping he was in the basement where it is coolest when I did not see him in bed with Monika.  I should have looked for him, and now I deal with guilt of feeling responsible for his death.

The morning he was missing, my daughter went around the block looking for him and posted a sign.  Later when I returned from shopping, I saw him on the side of Mineral Point Road.  I rushed home to collect a special soccer jersey of Monika’s that was too small for her and a towel and went out to the road to gather him up with a shovel.  I took an old duffel bag to zip him into safely, and with Monika, I buried him in front of our home.  I took Monika to buy some perennials to plant on top of him (cat mint), explaining that the flowers should grow back after winter and hopefully some part of him would help to keep the plants alive.  The planting of the flowers gave her some comfort.

Dealing with this death is difficult enough without my feeling like I could have, should have made sure Monika’s cat was inside. While I deal with regret, Monika mourns the passing of her friend.  My daughter was gracious not to blame me.  She says she does not want another cat to replace Xerxes. I understand what she is saying.  She does not want to deal with losing anyone she loves ever again.