K2 – she was a cat

TW: pet death

It was new year’s eve 2009, when I was visiting a friend’s home with my ex when I first met a feisty little tabby cat. Her name was K2, named because she the second tabby in her owner’s home. My ex and I were sitting on the couch when this tiny girl with big ears started climbing my ex’s leg and attacking his knee, falling over dramatically in the process. I had never seen a cat so small and funny to boot.

A few months later, our friend needed to rehome K2, so my ex asked me if I wanted another cat. We already had our elderly cat, Asha, my first ever fur baby. I didn’t hesitate to say yes. I never grew up with pets, but with kids, it just seemed like the natural course to grow our little family. K2 joined our home and promptly went to hide on my son’s bunk bed. She took to him immediately and became his cat. My daughter loved watching her at times, but then again kiddo has her own way of showing affection and interest.

Asha and K2 didn’t really cuddle or play together, but while Asha would tolerate K2’s presence, K2 would play her kitten role around her, chasing Asha and fake swatting her. They were like the old detective paired with the rookie cop. I’d spend time narrating imagined adventures they’d go on, solving crimes, and saving lives. When Asha passed, K2 changed a bit. There was less play and more contemplation, as if she was taking on Asha’s personality.

Soon after we adopted Gaius, a tiny black kitten with ears that were too big for his head. I was worried that K2 would resent Gaius, but no, when he arrived, K2 herded him to the food bowls, the litter box, and her favourite spots to hide and rest. K2 became the old detective watching disapprovingly while Gaius, the rebel cop that never plays by the rules, did his crazy zoomies around the house.

K2 loved to watch movies, and she had a particular fondness for art films and horror. Whenever I’d put on a screener or a bluray, she’d sit and assess if whatever it was was worth the watch. Ace Ventura? Hell no! Lars Von Trier? Hell yes, COUNT. ME .IN.

I know people say these things about pets, but K2 wasn’t just a cat. She was my confidant, my best friend, a life saver, and one of the most stable beings in my life, a constant. Through all the moves, my divorce, my many failures, my tiny victories, through all the things my kids have been through, K2 was there. She was always waiting for me to sit at my desk to work, or watch a movie with one paw or head on my leg. Sometimes she’d little star in my little home movies. She loved my kids, in particularly my son and always looked in on him before bed, just like Asha used to.

When I adopted my dog, Nita, during the pandemic, K2 took to her. She took on this new animal in our home, like an old friend. “Welcome to our home. We’re all mad here, so do what you want. We can take it.”

I jokingly have always told my pets, when it is your time, just go. I’ve never been good with processing death. Since I was a child I’ve believed the most absurd horror is that one day you’re here and then one day, for no good reason, you are not. Waiting for death seems like the cruelest of terrors. And of course, as a pet owner you forget, out of the overpowering need to love something, that one day that something won’t be there anymore. You love. You will eventually suffer because of love. “But what is the sweet without the sour?” to paraphrase one of K2’s favourite films, Vanilla Sky.

A month or so ago, K2 started losing her sight and walking slower. A few traumatic vet visits (my poor K2 is not a fan of the outside world or any changes around her), blood pressure and renal meds, after and she was coasting, still blind, but able to do the things she loved, sleep, eat, and stare disapprovingly at the ether. She’d come when I’d call her name and would ask to be picked up while on my work zoom calls.

A couple of weeks ago she started deteriorating. I gave her palliative care, fed her via treat tubes and carried her into her litter box when she was having trouble finding it. I threw out rugs and sweaters, while I was still in denial. I’d think, “She can’t possibly go. Not now.”

“If not now, when?”

I had gone out for a little bit last night, when my son called. K2 wasn’t moving. When I got home, she was splooting in front of my Ramones lunch box. In my head, before she died she said, ” And……..end scene.”

I want to the thank the Emergency Vet Clinic at 920 Yonge for being so wonderful to her and to me. Showing up with K2 in her carrier, I was in full survival mode. It was when they left her alone with me to say goodbye that I completely lost it.

K2 was not just a cat. She was my rock. Thank you baby for being there for my family and I. There was absolutely no reason you should have looked up to me, only because I fed you. But you kissed me with that rough tongue of yours as if I constantly needed a reminder that I had you by my side. I never took for granted the privilege of being your adopted mom. I look at the cushion you used to sit on and I just miss you so much right now. Rest well, K2 and please find Asha and send her my love. I love you.