This evening Mel and I were in the backroom watching a movie. Mel was asleep before 11:00 on the couch next to me. At about 12:00 a.m. I heard one of our cats fighting another cat. This is typical of the 2 female cats in our house to get after each other, so I didn't exactly jump out of my seat to attend to the matter, but still got up. As I approached our bedroom I felt and heard one of our cats rush past me in the dark hallway. I figured that it was Kenya, our older female who usually instigates small cat fights with Mylee, our 1 yr old kitten who just had 5 kittens herself 2 weeks ago and who has been very, very sick the last couple of days and is suffering from an infection from nursing that has actually gotten so bad over the weekend that the sore has opened. We fear that she may need surgery. We pray that she only needs surgery. Melanie is taking her into the vet tomorrow morning as soon as it is open.
As I kept walking toward our room I had a very distinct feeling that Kenya wasn't the problem this time. I walked into our room, turned on the light (much to Easton's disapproval as he had fallen asleep on our bed.) When I hit the lights I saw a cat that was not ours exit our room through the open window over our bed. We typically leave this window open to allow our cats access to the great outdoors. I saw a weak Mylee give a feeble chase after the other cat. She stopped just short of hopping onto our bed to pursue the intruder any farther. The white cat escaped through the window.
I don't know a lot about cats, and have never really cared to know anything more than I already know about cats, I knew that the intruding cat was a male and that he was set on dominating his "territory." I watch those violent nature shows on Animal Planet and Discovery. I own the "Planet Earth" series. I knew that cat was not in our house for the warmth and love that is sanctioned in here.
I carefully opened the closet door where Mylee and her kittens have been for the last 2 weeks. In the shadow of the closet doors I could already see that one kitten wasn't laying with the others like they usually do, nor was it laying like the others. Then I saw 2 other kittens laying close to each other, but not cuddled next to each other and not laying all curled up like normal kittens lay.
Of the 5 kittens, the 3 I just described laid lifeless, with their tongues out and their heads limped back. Their fur was disorganized and just a little bit of blood stained their neck and bellies surrounding the puncture marks of a tom cat that just escaped my house. The 2 other kittens were snuggled next to each other, squirming a little like they typically do, completely unaware of the death of their brother and 2 sisters.
I watched Mylee come back into the closet. I couldn't discern anything from looking at her. She simply laid next to the 2 surviving kittens and just looked at me, at her living kittens, and at me again. So I am not sure if she is suffering from the murder of 3 of her kittens or not. But I knew Melanie would suffer.
I would rather tell Melanie that I lost my job rather then tell her I saw a dead cat on the side of the road. So how do I tell her this? I couldn't not tell her. Obviously she would have found out; and if I had disposed of the kittens and then told her in the morning, she would never forgive me. I mean that for reals, don't try to read into that searching for any sarcasm, she would never forgive me. I did not want to tell her at all, because I knew how terrible the news would have been to her. But not telling her would have amounted to a far worse reaction and consequence. I had to let Melanie know, and I had to let her hurt as I knew she would hurt.
I gently woke her up. She was a little disoriented, so I waited until she grabbed her bearings. Then I told her. I told her that another cat had come into our room and killed 3 of the kittens. The soberness in my voice, and it being 12:15 a.m., told Melanie that I wasn't kidding about the news that I just reported to her. This is something that even I know never to kid about with Melanie.
Those of you who know me know that I don't have any feelings for our cats. I like them, but I pay little attention to them. Those of you that know Melanie know that she considers our cats part of our family, as if they were our adopted children. Her ex-husband use to complain that she loved her cat more than she loved him. She never argued the statement with him.
I led her down the hall, gently arguing with her that she didn't need to see the kittens, but I knew full well that she needed to see the kittens. I will let Melanie post about how she felt if she chooses to.
At 1:00 a.m. this morning I burried the kittens for Melanie, instead of throwing them away. I dawned my work gloves, and my shovel and dug 2 foot deep grave for the kittens to rest in. I covered the grave so that no one could tell where the grave is. I am the only one who knows where the kittens are, just like I am the only one that knows where the bunny is burried from 2 years ago, (aside from my friend Dave who helped attend to the matter.) My kids don't know yet the the kittens are passed. They will be told in the morning. I am sure that Mariah will suffer just like her mother has suffered. Jaden will certainly be sad too.
I love my family to the fullness of my capacity. As time passes I learn to love them more and my joy becomes more full. My love is like a glass of Dr. Pepper that is full, and as time passes, the cup just keeps getting bigger and fuller. It is a growing organism within me that fills me with pride, and care, and concern. Because I love them, I love what they love. I love that Mariah loves the Jonas Brothers. I love that Jaden loves Mario Kart. I absolutley love that Eeaston wants to go to school with me in the moring just so he can be with "my daddy," as he calls me. I love the cats in our house because my wife and kids love our cats. So to have to be the one that finds the dead kittens, and to tell my wife, and to watch her suffer over the pain and thoughts of how it could have been prevented, and how she feels an amount of responsibility, all this is very discouraging for a husband because husbands like to fix things. They like to make things right. They like to solve the problems that their wives and children are dealing with. They do not want to see their wives suffer, even when they know that suffering is the right thing for certain trials that arise.
At least, thats how I am. I want things to be perfect for my wife and kids. I realize that the reality of life dictates that nothing can be perfect, but if I could make it as good as it could be than it's worth my effort to make it so for them. So having to tell my wife the bad news, and watching her lament over the loss of the kittens is very difficult for me to do, but very necessary.
I am sure that the kittens will always remain a brief memory in our family for those old enough to remember. The pain that Melanie feels for their loss is real and natural. As a husband I have learned to allow these natural feelings to be expressed and learned not interfere with them. It is a very difficult thing for me to do and I don't suppose it will get any easier. There's a connection somewhere in these last few lines that I am sure my Father in Heaven can comprehend. It is comforting to know that much at least.
~IN LOVING MEMORY~
