6th grade was fucking brutal. On September 22, the day before my birthday, we found my jet black cat, who I loved like a brother, Robbie, dying in the garage. We were expecting this. He was about 23 years old, and was getting more and more fragile on the way. Today was the day. We brought him in and washed his stiffing up, urine soaked legs, (his bowels had lost control and he had a puddle of pee next to him), wrapped him in a towel, and laid him on a large pillow, and gently spoke to him as we stroked his rough fur. We tried to feed him, but he refused to take the food. Thinking back, it's like he knew his time had come. We didn't. I had cried so much that evening that when his death finally did come around, he had stopped breathing, his whole body stiff, and opened eyes, I couldn't cry, as my tear ducts had dried up. I finished washing the dishes when I went to check on him at around 9 p.m., and his heart stopped. I went to my mother and uttered the words:
"He's gone. "
We put him in a box, decorated the box, and buried him on the side of our house. The next day at school, I couldn't stop crying or thinking of him. People around me were celebrating the day of my brith. Me? I was mourning the death of my best friend. My life long companion. He wasn't the typical cat that would knock shit off your desk, he was special. He was a cat who would lay next to your bedside, waiting for you to pick him up, for his brittle bones would not be able to jump up, he would lay next to you in bed and cuddle with you until he slept. Whenever I would go to cry, he would let me pet him as I told him my thoughts. He was my best friend. I was pulled out of class and sent to the counselors office and told her what had happened. At lunch time, the sadness was too overwhelming. I had to go home. I have had pets pass away before, but no passing hit me as hard as this one did. It wasn't his death that made me depressed, it was the thoughts that came afterwards. This was the dawn of my existential crisis.
YOU ARE READING
Tales From a Teenage Boy
Non-FictionMy life story. This will be basically something like a modern Gary Paulsen book, with stories of me and my friends, like the retarded things us boys do.
