Goodnight Sweetheart, Goodnight

"but i ain't ever gonna see you again
and i'm never gonna feel you again
so let this moment never end..."
"The Twilite Kid" by The Twilight Singers

That song is probably about a girl and some sort of messed up relationship, but I'm taking it completely out of context and dedicating it to my cat. I'm sure Greg Dulli won't mind - he wrote a song inspired by his cat that's on the same album.

Tonight my cat died in my arms. I found out she was sick a week ago, and knew that soon I'd have to put her to "sleep." (Uh, I just realized that I could quote Greg again here... "Sleep is the cousin of death; least that's what Nas says..." from the Afghan Whigs track "Omerta.") Still, Nessie seemed okay, just a little tired. Her kidneys were failing, and since there was no way to treat this due to her heart murmur, it was a sit back and wait situation. "Let's do what will make you and Nessie the most comfortable," said Dr. Allen.

Nessie was named after the Loch Ness Monster - a creature I have a particular affinity for. I have no idea why. Considering that this particular kitty was found hanging by a creek with a pack of dogs, I knew she'd be an original. She was obsessed with water and did this funny thing with her neck, as if she was saying "Oh no you di' n't!" all the time. If she could have, she would have done snaps while saying it. The cat was from Oakland, after all.

A friend and I snagged her, got her checked out by a vet, and she was mine. I had doubts at first, but my boyfriend hung out with her for an hour and said, "You should keep her. She's cool." She later proved her "coolness" with a maniacal addiction to catnip that had her leaping great distances with no visible means of leverage or knocking over heavy objects in order to devour the stuff. At that point we lived in Berkeley and, well... who isn't a stoner in Berkeley?

Nessie was a sweetheart of a nutcase, a tranny (I found out years later that "she" was actually a "he") with a heart of gold, and a loyal friend. I mean, none of my other friends ever happily brought me half dead birds. If I was sad, she'd be right up in my lap; if I was laying out in the sun, she'd lie right next to me; if I was gardening, she'd chew on my plants. Every day, when I would come home, she'd be waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs with a little meow.

Till Friday. That was the first day she didn't greet me. She started to hide, and had stopped eating. Saturday I had to go to a wedding out of town, and she was still hiding. I was terrified she'd die alone, so I asked her to hold on till I got back. She did. I came home and she was splayed out on my rug next to the bed, and she tried to lift her head and meow when she saw me. I held her for the next hour and a half, and then she died.

I am lucky to have a lot of wonderful, wonderful friends. I called one to ask him for a shovel so I could do an illegal burial in the back yard of my apartment building, and he offered his back yard at his home (which is basically Griffith Park). The main reason? A creek runs through it. So we buried her under the Hollywood sign, sprinkled some catnip on her, and said goodbye. Then we took a Commemorative Nessie Memorial Dip in his pool under the full moon.

Making the decision to put her down was difficult enough. The sense of responsibilty for my little girl was overwhelming; ugh - I could never have a kid. But losing her... It's a heartbreak worse than with love, but it's so much easier to understand. So I'll be fine. I still have another big husky cat hanging out with me, but I've just had a major set back towards my goal of being the Crazy Cat Lady on the Block. Maybe I'll have to rethink that. So here's a farewell, by, oddly enough, the Spaniels...

"Goodnight sweetheart, well it's time to go... I hate to leave you but I really must say:
Goodnight, sweetheart - goodnight..."