A Eulogy for Tommy
When I lost my first cat Amos eleven years ago, I didn't want another. Amos was so special to me, I didn't want to negotiate another relationship with one of his species. Were they all the same? Would a new cat be enough like Amos to mitigate my grief, or so much like him as to be a sad reminder? I figured that was it for me and cats. But my sister had found a pregnant stray and the litter appeared about a month before Amos died. I protested that I couldn't take any of them but I happened to be at my mother's the same day my sister brought the then six-week-old kittens for a visit. The litter of five included a white male, two calico sisters, and two orange short-haired brothers, like Amos. When I looked into the laundry basket, they were all squirming and writhing, half-asleep and oblivious to me. But one of them, the smallest, stood up, and, resting his forepaws on the edge of the basket, looked me straight in the eye and began screeching plaintively. If cats have a language, I am sure this screech meant "Take me out of here!"
I agreed to take him, and his larger orange brother (so they'd keep each other company when I was at work) but insisted they not leave their mom till nine weeks. I named the bigger one "Huckleberry" and the little one, "Tom". When I finally acquired them, they were like ball lightning bouncing around the house. I quarantined them to the upstairs and cleverly braced two expandable pet gates, one atop the other, on the landing in the evenings so they could run around upstairs but kept out of the dangerous rooms like the kitchen. Often I would sit downstairs in the family room, having just secured the double gates, only to have little Tom magically appear on my lap within seconds. The quarantine was a failure; he and Huck just climbed over it.
During the day, when I was at work, I kept them in the upstairs bathroom with their litter boxes, water and dry food. Huck seemed to bully his smaller brother, often pushing him aside for food or water. Around this time, my work place moved closer to my home and I was able to check on them at lunch time. Whenever I did, Tom would stand up, lean with his forepaws against my shins, look me in the eye and make that same plaintive take-me-out-of-here screech. Soon I relented and gave them the run of the house.
Often I would be on the computer upstairs and listen to them running around downstairs, keeping one ear open for the sound of something crashing. More ominous, though, were the times of sudden silence. One such time, I went to check on them and Tommy was sitting on the phone table perfectly still. He just sat there, wide-eyed, making no reaction to my presence. I realized that he had managed to get the phone cord wrapped around his neck and stiff as he was I thought he might be dead but he was just trying to keep himself from getting strangled.
A few years later, and they were dashing around the house when I heard a blood-curdling wail. My heart sank as I ran to the living room and found Tommy swinging from the front window curtains, which were tightly knotted around his waist. I could not figure out how to untie them so I fetched the scissors and freed him with one cut of the knot. Once unwound, the drape had a vertical slit that ran halfway up from the bottom. To this day, I don't understand how a clear cut through the fabric was only a slit. Perhaps it was part of the strange physics of cats, such as when Tommy seemed to fly effortlessly across the family room, or levitate from the floor to the bathroom counter when I was shaving.
Despite his athleticism, Tommy was still the sicklier of the two brothers, enduring a bladder stone at one point, after the removal of which he rarely whined on the ride to the vet and was always a good patient. (Huckleberry still wails like a banshee for the entire trip.) He was even good taking his pills in the last few months and enduring the occasional emergency trip to the vet. Over the past several years, it seemed his primary goal in life was to get me to sit on the couch so he could lie on my lap, dig his claws into my knees, hear himself called a "sweet baby" and fall limp as a dishrag, as he had done since he was a kitten. He did that one last time Friday evening, and passed away.
Forgive me for posting this, but I was all Tommy had and I didn't want his small life to pass without some memorializing. The last few months have been stressful as I constantly watched for symptoms and tried to make sure he got his pills at the right time or searched for him in hiding or tried to decide whether he needed a vet visit again. I actually miss all that now. He was a sweet, skinny little kitty, with a pinched face and a ready purr. It feels like my world has ended.
To a Cat
Mirrors are not more wrapt in silences
nor the arriving dawn more secretive;
you, in the moonlight, are that panther figure
which we can only spy at from a distance.
By the mysterious functioning of some
divine decree, we seek you out in vain;
remoter than the Ganges or the sunset,
yours is the solitude, yours is the secret.
Your back allows the tentative caress
my hand extends. And you have condescended,
since that forever, now oblivion,
to take love from a flattering human hand.
You live in another time, lord of your realm -
a world as closed and separate as a dream.
-- Jorge Luis Borges
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A beautiful relationship between the two of you and I know you "got" and good as you "gave". Tommy was a lucky kitty.
May these good memories stay with you and move away the pain. Those of us who truly love our pets know how difficult the loss eventually will be, but every day we have with them is worth it.
A 
to dear Tommy and to you both.
As you gave a home to Tommy, I hope you may someday consider doing so again. 
He had a good life with you.
I'm so sorry. It's torture. But Tommy loved you more than anything, so please try not to forget that in your sorrow . I must also add, He so pretty.
It will certainly take some time to adjust to life without him and my own last few months with my cat who passed were also unfortunately stressful for us both due to his illness but even those times I still so much treasure in memory
Thank you for the Borges piece I have nevet seen before
R.I.P. Tommy
I've also known them since they were babies. Tommy has been back and forth to the vet in recent weeks, but he always came home. Last Sunday he spent the night receiving oxygen at the weekend Animal Emergency Clinic and came home on Monday, obviously much better, so that may be what Huck expects. They really have very different personalities, Tommy was more the affectionate lap cat while Huck is more assertive and demands treats. But it is heartbreaking to think how much he's going to miss his brother since, despite their differences, they have been together since birth.
Huck and Tommy
For You, Huck and nuxvomica 
I've adopted older animals, so it's not the first time, but Tommy wasn't that old to me and was such a sweetheart - and it never does get any easier.
You never realize that such a little guy could leave such a big hole when he's suddenly not there... 
My heart received additional fractures when our two reposed. I know all too well. I reacted worse for our fur children than for human family members. Someone else on DU said this same thing.
I'm still crying for you all.
Much love....🕯
And something I heard one time does explain it - and has stuck with me. It was said that it's often harder to lose a pet than a person - since your pet is always there. And that's sure proven to be true. Tommy was always there with his quiet presence - and he was such a good boy. You understand...
Those are quite impressive ages for both of your beloved kitties - I talked to my vet about it once and he agreed. I've had two dogs who lived past 18 - but it's never long enough - and I've lost several over the years because I adopt senior animals. I adopted the pup I have now at 5 months - was hoping I'd have this little guy forever. But tomorrow is already his 12th birthday, time sure flies. I try not to think about it, as well, know I should take each day as it comes, but I'm a worrier, too - and still miss the ones I've lost every single day.
I don't even know what to say, I know how much your boys mean to you.
I planned to let you know. You knew he'd been sick and spent last Sunday at the Animal Emergency Clinic, but he was better after that. In fact, on Thursday he was back to his old self, running around and demanding treats, but Friday he took another turn for the worse and went back to the vet - with the option for further treatment at the Emergency Clinic. But they took a look at the X-Rays and knew that this time it wouldn't help. It's really been awful, he was clearly the sweetest one and you knew them, as well, when they were babies. I intended to warn you that this post was coming...
to your precious Tommy.... I'm a puddle. (Well, I guess I needed a good cry). And what a wonderful life you gave him. His memory will be yours forever. R.I.P., Tommy...
I feel like I know Tommy from your eulogy. What a sweet little one. He was lucky you heard him and took him home. All I can say is - I'm sorry because I know it hurts.
Grieve not,
nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk of me
as if I were beside you -
I loved you so -
'twas Heaven here with you
~Isla Paschal Richardson
I have a Snowshoe baby boy that I've had since 2003 that I got a couple weeks after my grandpa (at 94) passed, named my boy after him. He'll be 15 on 7/4, still seems in okay health but sleeps SOOOO much more, and has turned into a little poop and pee factory by a factor of about 2X vs. when he was younger. His 2 doggie partners of 10 years just left (along with the soon to be Ex) 1.5 months ago and I can tell he misses them terribly. They were his buds, and he sleeps on their left-behind doggie beds pretty much all the time.
Anyways, RIP Tommy and thanks for sharing ... having had to see a couple other well-loved canine & feline friends over the rainbow in my day I know how much it hurts. Sorry for that, and hang in there, time will heal, trust me. And Tommy was very fortunate to have a Hooman who loved him so much, so many others don't have the same great fortune.
BTW, it's esp. heartbreaking when you have only 1 other animal that lived a long time with the one that has passed. That's really the worst feeling when you sense they're wandering around, looking for their departed friend ... it's just crushing. So sorry you're having to go through that. This is why I've long maintained it's best to have either 1, or 3 or more pets, just so that you don't have to see that whole thing and they never have to go through it. If you have 3, you usually ever only lose 1 at a time, so when 1 goes, at least the other 2 have each other still, and then you can get another youngster ... each time you lose one ... this way none of them are ever left alone.
RIP Tommy
I have been reluctant to reply, even now, because it is still so painful. But I wanted to make sure the wider world would know of my dear, sweet friend. I felt I owed it to him. I still have times when I just cry like a baby and a friend told me that would last two weeks at the very least. But your sharing has helped me a lot. My next task is to deal with Huckleberry, Tom's brother, who has never been without him, since birth, for more than a few days before. If I think my world has ended, how must he feel? My plan is to give him enough hugs and kisses to make him feel awkward most of the time, and to spoil him rotten with treats and toys. That just might get both of us through this.
The Borges lines are terrific, too. He's one of my favorite writers.
