Jon and I lost a piece of ourselves in the early hours of yesterday morning. Our beloved
Miles has passed.
I still can't quite grasp those words as I type them. I tried to write this post last night, but exhaustion had set in, and I just couldn't do it. This morning, I find myself propped up in bed with my husband sleeping next to me, blinded by the only light coming from this blank white page and the tears streaming down my face. I feel like I have to write this, and I have to do it now.
There no doubt will be some who say, oh, it's just a cat, but Miles was far from "just a cat". He was our baby, our best friend, our comforter, and our playmate. I also know that they say the best sure fire way to lose readers is to post about your cat. I can only imagine that the length of this post doubles or triples that threat. So be it.
The end was quick and relatively peaceful. I don't think I'll document the details here because they are not what I want to remember. His passing was related to his "usual" issue. For those of you who don't know, he had a heart condition that caused him to throw blood clots about every three months. They would lodge in the small veins of his back legs and cause him to lose blood flow to his back legs. It was horrible, but he was so special and we loved him so much that we vowed to do whatever it took to help him through it. As long as he was willing to fight it, so were we. When this
first happened they told he most likely wouldn't make it. The only thing we could do was give him aspirin. So, we did, and we prayed alot, and lo and behold, it worked. That first time we tapered him off the aspirin therapy and then it struck again, seemingly 10x worse than before. He pulled through again. This time we decided to continue aspirin therapy every 3 days indefinitely. {this was the max we could do.} It continued to happen about every 3 months. In the beginning I documented every incident here on the blog, but I eventually stopped. It just became part of what we did. 5-6 times we helped him through something that no one thought he could get through once. But this last time was different. We think the clot lodged somewhere else, and this time was it.
But anyway, his illness far from defined him. I know everyone says this, but Miles really was the sweetest cat ever. He was the kind of cat that greeted us at the door when we got home and followed us around all day. He'd sit and stare at us, and in the cold weather months would curl up on our laps. When it was warmer, he chose to sit on the back of the couch, so he could be near us without getting too warm. At night I'd say, "okay Miles, let's go to bed" and he'd follow me upstairs. He slept at my feet. Often I'd wake up with him sitting on my chest, tickling my face with his whiskers. When I showered in the morning, he'd sit on the ledge by the shower and wait for me. He was with us ALL THE TIME. And, I miss him so much that I can hardly stand it.
It's not just that he was loving either, he was the best. Miles was Jon's companion during the long months he spent at home fighting Leukemia. He was the one who kept him company during the day and who cheered him up when he was down. Miles loved giving Jon head buts, and rubbing against his goatee. They were buds. Jon and I often would speculate over which one of us he loved most. In reality I think he loved us both as much as we loved him. He was so, so special.
Miles was my comforter when Jon was in the hospital. He was also at times the only source of love I could see for myself. He was there when I was deep in a depression that I couldn't, or wouldn't let anyone else see. He loved me anyway. I used to go on and on about how cute he was, to the point of annoyance, but he just made my heart swell. I love him so much. Oh, and I took about a gazillion pictures of him. So glad I did.
Even people who don't like cats liked Miles.
I could go on and on about him. About the cute look he'd get on his face when he was playing with a string, about how he'd roll around on his back, about his eyes, the prettiest shade of green, his white whiskers, always with one black one thrown in for good measure, his freckles on his lips, his sounds, oh, his sounds. That boy was a talker. I'd give anything to hear his chirps right now.
When I first woke up this morning, I lay here and thought, okay, this is going to be okay. And then, I rolled over. Instinctively I moved my legs up toward my body before turning over, as that's what I've become accustomed to doing for the last 12 years so as not to disturb Miles between my legs. And then, I lost it. I've been crying ever since.
I've seen my husband weep many times since yesterday morning, and I know he's having a really hard time too. Which breaks my heart even more.
I went to work yesterday. And yes, I cried most the day at my desk. I tried to be as discrete as possible, but I'm sure it was horribly uncomfortable for my co-workers. Especially the guys. They gave me a card that they passed around. It was sweet, especially knowing their varying degrees of love for animals. It meant alot that they care enough about me to do that. It did make me feel a little like Angela from The Office, but oh well. I mean, her love for her cats is her one redeeming quality.
I do believe that Miles is in heaven. He has to be. After all, before God even created a wife for Adam, he created the animals to be his companions. Miles was our angel, and our miracle kitty. Anything that we loved this much and who loved us back with such passion has to be in heaven. He was a gift from God himself. I know that when Jon and I leave this life, we're gonna hear Miles greet us, and see a ball of orange fur come running. And you know what? It's gonna be glorious. We'll be home with him again.
Miles taught me so much, but I think the biggest thing he taught me is that as long as there is hope, there is a way, and that God truly does answer prayers. He also showed me every day what unconditional love looks like. Over the last couple years, I've known that I had him on borrowed time. I learned that even when he was waking me up at 6:00 on Saturday morning I was grateful for him. I was so, so lucky to have him. A lesson that should carry over to so many parts of life.
Thank you for everything Miles. We're going to miss you terribly.
Rest in peace, baby boy.
