Bonkers (October 6, 1999)

I lost my best friend today. She meant more to me than I can ever hope to explain. She was truly my everything - the love of my life. She was my kitten, Bonkers.

I know my mind well. Already it is hard at work erasing the vast slate of memories of my old friend as fast as it can. It is deleting them so that they will not be relived with the vividness that now I feel. Usually, we work as a team - I wish the thought to be discarded, and it is. Today, and for perhaps the rest of my life, we will be in a struggle for control of these memories.

My kitten, Bonkers, was the one constant in my life over the past 13 years. She saw me through a marriage, and a divorce. She was there for me during the horrible years of my illness, seemingly understanding my every pain. She was there for me in my loneliness, and in my periods of great joy. She was everything that a best friend is supposed to be.

Today I woke up knowing that this was our last day on earth together. I looked at her this morning and I saw in her eyes nothing that said she knew her time was ending. I retreated to the confines of my thoughts as I readied for school. Somehow I felt as though I were betraying her.

God it was painful shutting the door behind me as I left home. The drive to school seemed in no way long, but in every way painful.

The hours ticked by slowly, inexorably, as I waited for classes to end. The hands on the clock moved with excruciating slowness.

I wore sunglasses to school today; it seemed a good idea. 12:30 arrived, and it was time for my last goodbye. I stopped in the library and took a quick peak at the USA Today. I think now, as I write, that it was a way to take my mind off of the impending storm, but it felt horrible to be reading box scores when Bonkers was soon to be a part of my past.

The drive home was a horror chamber of thoughts. I thought of all the good times that I had spent with my friend. This sad little nostalgia brought me back, often, to a time when I was married to a beautiful young lady named Dawn. Each remembrance opened up a Pandora's box of bittersweet melancholy. I thought of Bonkers first day in the trailer - how she seemed to know that that was her destiny. I thought about that cement pad, and how she loved to fall and roll on it. Also, I thought of the deck, and how she fancied that she was queen of the underside of it. I pictured the drive to Arizona, and the pitiful, panicked cry she emitted during those interminable miles. Mostly, though I reflected on the last 18 months.

I say 18 months because this is how long I've been single. But really, I've never been single - Bonkers has always been there.

An amazing and wonderful transformation took place in that time. Where once I felt that Bonkers was there for me, I began to realize that, with her deteriorating health, I was here for her. Often at night she would cozy up into the curl of my body as I slept on my side. I never protested despite the sacrifices to my personal comfort. It was my turn to return her unconditional love. I could tell you a thousand stories of how I took care of my baby. I could tell you of how she frequently got sick in the middle of the night, and how I would get up, pet her gentle head, clean up the mess, and carry her back to bed with me - soothing her constantly. I could tell you how I searched far and wide for a diet that her sensitive intestines would accept; and of the money - money that I don't have - spent on trying to make her healthy once more.

I could tell you all these things, but I haven't the time or the energy. This is why I will pray tonight. I will pray that my mind doesn't betray me and erase the slate that is Bonkers' memories. I loved her with every ounce of my being.

The vet came over at 4:00 today. There was a bit of business to be finished. I had been with Bonkers for three hours by then and I could tell she was annoyed. Sure she loved me, but she was still a cat; and she had no idea... I wished so very hard that I could explain to her that this was it - no more frolics on the patio.

I held Bonkers tight as the needle was pushed into a minute vein near her paw. She gave out a horrible scream, which made my body slump. I was crying uncontrollably now -- thirteen years of love were coming to a close.

I watched through a flurry of tears as Dr. Luse pushed forward the stopper. I begged aloud to Bonkers for forgiveness for taking her life. I cried loudly over and over; “I'm sorry Bonky; I'm sorry Bonky.”

Then she fell limp in my hands. I looked into her wonderful bright eyes and saw only darkness, blankness. It reminded me of the movie, “The Terminator”. A living creature's eyes carry a light of their own - the light of being - that can only be extinguished by death. This last memory is perhaps one I hope to forget.

There I sat, slumped over a limp, warm body, still unable to control my outflow of emotion. Dr. Luse had given my body a hug and walked silently to her car. I sat with Bonkers' dead body in my arms. But, you know what? I couldn't let go! I carried the light warm body around the house for easily forty minutes; I just couldn't let go. How does one explain an abstraction such as pure, unconditional love? I held my cat until her little body began to cool.

It was so very hard to place my friend in the hole that I had dug. She looked so horrible lying limp in the dirt. I couldn't stand it, so I arranged her body as though she were taking one of her frequent naps. I picked flowers and gently arranged them around her body. Then I buried her.

Bonkers is no longer with me in body. In spirit she will be with me until my own unnatural light fades. I hope that I may reunite with her then and continue our friendship. It was far too perfect to end so quickly.

Dear Bonkers, constantly I expect you to come up to me and nudge me with your wet nose. My thoughts quickly diminish into reality. You are gone. I am alone. This is pain beyond pain.