KISS: Road Trip

Ch 38: Not Hooligan (Ace)

"Oh fuck, NO!"

I woke up to the sound of sobbing and bolted upright, looking around the room wildly. "Peter?! What's wrong love, where are you?" I cried, running out of our room. He was sitting on the floor of the living room, bawling his eyes out while clutching a very limp Hooligan to his chest.

Oh no.

I sat next to him on the floor, stroking his hair soothingly. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay. He lived a good life, he was happy and he was old and it was his time."

He just sobbed harder, shaking his head. "It's okay, Peter it's okay, it's okay. It's okay, you're okay," I said gently, patting him on the back. "He-he just--I got up to feed him and-and he laid down on my feet and just--he just--he just died!" he wailed. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay. He knew how much you loved him, he was a happy cat, it was his time," I said, trying desperately to find the right words to say to calm him down. "He was there with you when he passed, it's okay, he was old and he was ready!"

Sobbing so hard he was starting to gasp for air, he gently set Hooligan on the ground before throwing his arms around me and bawling into my shirt. I held him tightly as he cried, waiting until his sobs had dissolved into hiccups to lift his face toward mine, gently wiping away his tears with my thumb. "He was an old cat, it's okay." Peter nodded miserably, sniffling. "H-he was. He was a good cat. I'm gonna...I'm gonna miss him," he choked. I kissed him on the forehead, tucking his hair behind his ears. "I know. I'll miss him too, as much as we fought each other over you." Poor Peter bit back a sob, dropping his head against my chest.

"Why don't we go and see about getting a little box and getting him cremated?" I said, trying really hard to be sensitive while also trying to figure out how to solve the issue of having a dead cat in our apartment. He nodded, taking a shuddering breath before reaching over and unclipping Hooligan's collar. "Y-yeah. We can do that," he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

My heart sank and I pulled him against my chest, holding him as he did his absolute best not to break down again. "It's okay," I murmured. "M-my dad used to call me a hooligan so I thought it'd be funny to name my cat Hooligan cause then whenever my dad got mad and shouted at me Hooligan would go see him instead of me. But he was a cat so he never actually responded to his name," Peter said, smiling faintly. I smiled back as he kept going. "His full name though was Dammit You Fucking Hooligan cause I didn't know what half of the words actually meant but Gram just told me to call him Hooligan so that's what I did."

I nodded, wiping the tears off his face. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and I'll figure out where we go to get him cremated, how about that?" I said gently. He nodded, taking a deep shuddering breath before stumbling to his feet. He looked at poor Hooligan for a second and ran off to our room, slamming the door shut behind him. I could hear him start to cry again.

Shaking my head, I pulled out my phone and called the pet cremation office. "Hi uh...my husband's cat died this morning, can we bring it in and get it cremated?" "Yes of course just stop by any time! Would you like a private, comingled, or partitioned cremation?" the woman on the other end asked. "Uh...private?" "Okay, that'll be $150. And we also have receptacles for the ashes available for sale here."  "Okay, sounds good. We'll stop by in a bit," I said, hanging up and looking for a box to put Hooligan in. Luckily there was a shoe box left over so I quickly lined it with some paper towels and gently put Hooligan in it, closing the lid and setting it on the counter.

The door to our room was still closed and I pushed it open to find Peter lying on the bed, sobbing into the pillows. Heart sinking, I sat next to him, patting him on the back. "It's okay, Peter. It's okay, it'll be okay. I talked to the place and we can stop by any time, do you...do you want to go over there now?" He pushed himself upright, wiping away tears with the back of his hand before nodding. I kissed him lightly on the forehead, smoothing his hair down. "Okay. Let's go."

He didn't say a word the entire time I drove to the cremation place, just clutched the shoebox and sobbed. He didn't say anything either as we sat waiting for the cremation process to finish, just picked a wooden box off the shelf and paid for it, clinging to it tightly once it had been filled with the ashes. I sat next to him on the couch when we got back home, holding him against my side. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes and leaning against me. "Dammit," he whispered.

"How are you...how are you feeling?" I asked. He shook his head. "Ace I'm gonna be honest with you, I'm fucking heartbroken. I just don't think I have any tears left to cry." "I know, I'm really sorry that he died."

"He-he was-always there when I was a kid. It's dumb I know, he was just a cat but-but...I bounced around a lot, from my mom's to my dad's to my grandparents' but I-I-I always had Hooligan," he whispered, clutching the wooden box tightly as his eyes filled with tears again.

I nodded, stroking his hair gently. He took a shuddering breath, running a thumb along Hooligan's collar. "Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit! W-why the fuck did he have to die? It's not fair!" he shouted. "I know it's not, I'm sorry." Peter burst into tears again, burying his face in my chest and sobbing, his whole body shaking. "It's not fair!" he wailed.

I just held him.