Farewell Garlic

Sometimes, grief for a loss of your loved one doesnt set in after much later.
Just the other day, I was taking a quick bath while the baby was bawling (nothing new).
And I thought of Garlic.
My cat who died just about 5 months ago.
I've been so caught up in everything - job changes, changing diapers, breastfeeding that I never really had time to let this sneaky emotion called Grief set in.

Garlic and I - oh, we had good times together.
She slept in my armpit, and I used to bury my head into her too-many-cat treats tummy.
She waited for me by the gate whenever I came back from work.
She was the only cat amongst the rest who would sleep with her legs in the air because she trusted me.
And oh, of course, she was the greediest too.
I had great fantasies of her and Jubilee becoming great friends.

Before she passed on, I told myself that one day, I would write a children's book on The Adventures of Garlic The Super Cat.
But before I could even start on Chapter 1, she was gone.
No more Garlic. No more adventures together.

Guilt makes grief worse.
While she was battling liver disease in her final stages, I could not be by her side all the time.
I remember, during the first few weeks of my confinement,
when I was still weak and tired from the stitches in my womb,
I would sneak back to my mother's house just sit by her side for 15 minutes every other day.
To put my hand on her head, and to sliently say: I'm sorry. The baby is crying at home, and I don't know how to look after both you and her.

I would weep and pray for God to save her.
But of course, he never did.

Finally, I decided to put her to sleep.
Because the doctor said she had no more hope.
Because I saw her suffer and I saw no hope.
And maybe because, in my own way, I was selfish.
And that I wanted to end her suffering. As well as mine.

So I remember very clearly that day.
My mum drove Garlic, me and my 1 month old baby to the vet.
I remember:Sitting in between my 2 beloved.Jubilee, healthy, and sleeping contently in the infant car seat on my left.
Garlic, ill, yellow and delirious in a cat carrier on my right.
I remember, putting my hand into the carrier and stroking her.
Again saying a silent sorry to her.
She let out a long terrible howl.
Gasped a little.
And she was gone before we reached the clinic.

I don't believe in cat heaven. So I won't kid myself by saying she's gone on to a better place.

But although the love between us was all too short-lived; it was a damn good run while it lasted.

Farewell Garlic.