Saying Goodbye

Basil, 1996-2011

Three months ago I wrote about our old cat, Basil, and his paralyzed back legs. He had made an amazing comeback, but never regained control of his bowels and bladder.

Just before New Year’s, his condition was worsening, so we made the very tough decision to say goodbye to him.

It’s the end of an era for me. Sixteen years ago, my wife and I adopted two kittens from the local shelter. Basil was mine. We didn’t have kids yet, so he was sort of my practice son. Version 1.0, you could say.

Two years later we would welcome my son into the world, but Basil never failed to remind me that he was my firstborn. Stalking through the house, loudly demanding attention, acting like he owned the place. Which he did, of course.

The kids loved him, and he loved them. He slept on their beds when they were sick, followed them around the yard as they played, and even patiently attended my daughter’s tea parties.

Once the kids were asleep, he’d let me know that all was well in the house. Then he’d jump into my lap, content to sit and watch me click and type on the computer. He rarely complained as I wrote blog posts late into the night.

Now Basil joins his brother under the feathery purple leaves of a Japanese Maple in the backyard.

And the house feel different to me. We have two other cats, recent additions to the house last year. But they belong to the kids. They are not mine. The bond is not there for me.

I’ll never have another pet quite like Basil. Right around his 7th year, I gave him a nickname, “Best Cat Ever,” because he really was. When I called him that, he’d look up at me with a knowing expression and purr just a little louder. I said those words one final time last week, and he closed his eyes knowing he’d lived a good life and been loved by many. That’s really all anyone could ask for.