It all started, at least when we really started paying attention, when he didn't come home for a few days. And then he did, and we thought he was just having a long jaunt away. He was always more comfortable as an outside kitty, and we indulged him that here. He was a smart cat. He rarely left the yard, and he was extra cautious around cars. Of our three cats, he was the one best equipped for any outside adventures.
Not long after the three-day absence, he just didn't come home again one night. We felt sure he would turn up, as he always had, though even the three-day hiatus was extremely unusual for him. When he didn't show, we called for him, and listened for his cry, and dashed to the door whenever one of us imagined his plaintive wailing outside. He always sounded so full of ennui. Bruce always made me smile when he responded to a seemingly-despondent cat cry with, "Live, Kabuki! Live!"
About a week after he had last been seen, we had started trying to come to grips with the idea that he was probably gone, though Bruce was making a half-hearted attempt at searching local animal shelters. Then I happened to see a notice on the telephone pole immediately across the street from our house: "Found: black Persian cat. Please call" and it listed a number. Bruce called and concluded from his brief conversation with the woman on the other end that the cat in question was not Kabuki, but as the days went on with no sign, something about it didn't feel right to me. I asked him to call her again, and on the second call he elicited the relevant information.
The woman lives across the street from us, apparently. (I told you he wasn't a wanderer!) Early Sunday morning she found Kabuki lying in her driveway, clearly ill but purring when she picked him up. She tried to call emergency vets, but couldn't find any that were open, and as she held him, he had some kind of seizure or spasm and died in her arms.
We didn't reach her in time before she had disposed of his body, so we don't have 100% confirmation, but she gave enough details, particularly of his white undercoat that was so distinctive, that we are pretty sure it was him. And once we learned he had been so sick, a few other pieces fell into place. Like the times over the last few weeks that Kabuki had not eaten when food was put in front of him- very unusual. And the time we exited the front door to find a large pile of newly-regurgitated food hanging out on the front stoop. Also not like Kabuki, who (unlike Hobbes, our orange kitty with the nervous stomach) had never been a puker. And the general standoffishness he had been displaying, coupled with some unusual neediness. I know that sounds contradictory. I can't explain it any better than that.
I feel I failed him, not seeing these subtle signs of his illness for what they were. I failed him, and I let him be with a stranger at the end, not with us who cared about him so much. At least he wasn't alone. I take some small comfort in that.
It took a long time before I stopped looking for him when I drove up, or listening for him to come running when I walked up the steps to the house. And for a long time I didn't write about it because I just felt too bad about it. Not in the weeping, grieving sense, though I did mourn his loss. But just feeling bad about how he died, how we missed his sickness, how we failed him. He deserved better from us, though I don't know how we could have given it. Even in hindsight, the signs were subtle. I'm so sorry, Wookiee.
Anyway, Bruce asked me to update my year end post to make sure his passing didn't go unmarked, and I realized he needed a full post. He was a good kitty, the sweetest boy ever who would have been the perfect cat if he would just have used a litter box. He had a big head that was just right for scritching between his ears, and lovely big paws that were adorable. He was all black, but he turned rust colored as he aged. It was his way of going gray, I guess. And he had that white undercoat that made him turn mostly white when he got wet. He was always good for a really good, loud purr- he always purred loud as a kitten, and he loved to sit on Bruce's belly and be petted. He always greatly appreciated any pets anyone might give him, but he wasn't as insistent as some other cats can be. Petting him was always its own reward, because of how good it clearly made him feel. He had bad back hips for years, but he never complained.
RIP, Kabuki. I hope we meet again someday.
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