Hi Score: Stupid dog
I know this is a dog I’m patting. A Labrador. A VR puppy that rolls over when I draw circles with my stylus. But I can’t stop thinking about my dead cat, Nikita…
She went missing one night.
She was naughty like that, always wanting to stay out after dark. But this time she didn’t come back.
We spent hours calling her, but finally went to bed.
‘She’ll come back when she’s hungry’ we said. ‘She’ll be back for breakfast.’
The next morning there was no meowing at the door.
We stood in the backyard and called her name.
‘Poppet.’
‘Nikita.’
Nothing.
We had to head off to work. We backed out of the drive-way and put the car into first gear…
And that’s when we see her.
My wife says the word ‘No’ over and over and rocks back and forth in her seat.
Nikita’s lying in the gutter on the other side of the road. When I get closer I can see that she’s been struck in the head. Her left eye is dark crimson and bulging out of its socket. Her body is stiff.
I put her in a cardboard box in the garage and we drive to work. We don’t talk.
I try to push the thought of what’s happened to the back of my mind, but I spend the day thinking about my poppet; dead, lying in a box, her blood seeping through the cardboard.
Later, I sit next to the hole in which we bury her. She lies in the bottom in a red pillowcase. I want to climb into the hole with her. I tell her not to look as I cover her head with two handfuls of dirt. The soil is cool on my skin.
When the hole is filled I carve her name into the fencepost.
My wife and I have been unable to get pregnant for years. Now I’ve just buried the closest thing we had to a child.
I place my hands in the freshly turned dirt.
‘Don’t go,’ I hear myself saying. ‘Don’t leave us.’
I know this is a dog I’m scratching. A Nintendogs puppy that runs around when I yell into the microphone. But, God I miss my cat.
Words: Drew Taylor
First published: online 10 June, 2006
Sorry to hear about your pusscat. It’s totally understandable. I’ve had my two for years and I’d be so upset if anything happened to either of them.
i feel so sorry for u. the last cat i had was my best of friend. if i went over the fence and into the feild, she would follow me and as i snuggle up in the blanket there was always a warm fluffy ball curled up on my bed. but i knew the day had to come my friend from down the street and her boyfriend dug her grave and as we put the dirt bak in the hole we heard a crunch of the box closing in on itself and i couldnt wach so i sat my self down in the livin room starin at the piture of my last cat fudge.