A Vigil for Psyche

Forgive me another extended interval. Obviously, a great many things have been happening that I have not written about here, but I found myself staring at the Twitter app and knowing that it was not the appropriate place for how I was feeling. And so I return, because in a few hours, we are saying good bye to our dear cat Psyche.*

I met Psyche eight years ago, when when I still didn't like cats. I moved in with Psyche five years ago, when I tolerated cats (and had a better allergy solution). I don't know when I'd say I started loving cats, but it was somewhere before Psyche got permission to sleep in the bedroom, reversing my demands for a dander-free sleeping area. I've gotten so used to it that I'm not even cranky when I wake up to pick one of her whiskers from my whiskers.

I've known Psyche for a while now, but my wife has known her for twenty years, more than half her life, since before college and through several relationships. I'm barely a blip in her life compared to Psyche. Before I knew her, Psyche had a life as an outdoor cat on a farm, hunting birds and other critters. Psyche was friends (maybe frenemies) with Boo, whom my wife adopted one year after Psyche, and who passed away herself last year.

I take it back, I do know when I realized I loved cats. I came home from work one day, and Psyche came up to me immediately and started crying out stressed, and I instantly knew exactly what she was saying. We'd had contractors in earlier that day, and though we'd told them to mind the cats, one of them was careless and Boo had wandered into the hall of the apartment building. Psyche knew she was out, and we looked for her that night. We found her in a staircase not that long after, and everything felt right again.

It wasn't long after Boo passed that Psyche would start crying out when she was alone. And around then is when we made sure she wasn't alone at night any more.

I knew Psyche as a cat who liked to do things her way, on her schedule. She'd have a few spots she liked to stay for hours: on our bed, on the guest bed, on the northernmost seat at the kitchen table, and on the back of the couch (almost always on top of the remote control). And she loved laps. There were times when I'd work from home with my computer in my lap, and she'd sit on both of my wrists. And we'd stay like that as long as all I had to do was keep typing.

We've known that her kidneys weren't doing well for over a year, and she had a battle with pancreatitis where we were giving her subcutaneous fluids every day. But she rallied strongly, and was as stubborn and talkative as ever. ( CW: animal sickness )

We've arranged for a vet to make a housecall so that we can say goodbye to her where she's comfortable.

Tonight, we opened a can of tuna just for her, and she lapped up the water inside. We took her into the backyard and let her wander a few steps, then my wife held her in the red and blue floodlights
until she got cold. My wife and Psyche are in bed together now, sharing a final night together. I'm going to join soon, but I won't sleep. I'm going to let the sun rise and finish the vigil and handle the arrangements. And I'm going to miss her so much.


* A while back, my wife (temptingcuriosity) chose the pseudonym "Psyche" for this blog, but all references in this post are to the cat Psyche (who was the inspiration for the nym).