Falco

One day in the summer of 2007 I was mad at David like always because we always fought. I stormed off to work in a huff. Towards the end of the day a few final customers shuffled through. As I was ringing a lady up, she mentioned that her cat had just had kittens and that if I was interested to stop by after work. She gave me her phone number. I had always wanted a black cat, I mused to myself. It would probably piss David off and make me feel better, so win-win. I thanked the lady and said I would stop by later. I was feeling particularly brazen that day.

After work I went to the lady’s house and was directed to the back yard. In a large wire crate there was a liter of adorable black and white kittens bouncing around. One out of the litter was almost entirely white with black spots on her head and a long fuzzy black tail and one kitten was almost all black except for a couple of white spots on his paws and chest, a tuxedo cat, as they say.

The lady fawned over the white kitten mentioning how she was the only white cat in the litter. I agreed that she seemed unique, plus none of these cats were completely black so I’d given up on my witchy fantasy of owning a black cat. As I picked up the white kitten with an adorable pink nose the lady, a devil in my ear, slithered out, “why don’t you take two?“ I smiled wryly. Sure, why don’t I?

To be honest, I always tended to get pets in pairs. Something my mom always said was the right thing to do so they’re not lonely lol. Always cracked me up at how silly that line of thinking is, but it stuck with me anyway.

So, I looked down again at the tuxedo kitten in the center of the crate. While all the other kittens were bouncing around, he lay there sleepily.

“Is there something wrong with that one?” I asked the lady.

She looked at him, then prodded him a little. The little black kitten lifted his head and blinked slowly, “Nope, just sleepy I guess?”. I hesitated, all the other kittens looked healthy and full of energy, but, I shrugged and picked him up. He was loose in my hand like jello but purred and looked up at me with those golden yellow eyes and I was smitten.

I took those two home and named them Fox (white cat) and Falco (black cat). Named after the Starfox characters and because as kittens they were always playfully at odds with each other, much like the characters for which they were named. I brought them home on a smash (video gaming) night, all my friends were there playing games, but once the kittens showed up everyone stopped to fawn over them. David was unhappy, but it didn’t last.

Falco quickly became David’s cat and Fox, mine. We loved the shit outta those cats. David had a special way of playing with Falco’s ear while petting him. Most cats hate their ears being touched, but they were kittens and this is what they knew as affection so all his life and into adulthood, he enjoyed it like a weirdo.

But, my relationship with David didn’t last, and when we broke up I had to transport my life back to Texas. The short-term lease at the apartment I was living in didn’t allow cats. So he kept them for a few years until one day he decided he didn’t want them anymore. He had tried to find a home that would take two adult cats to no avail, so he asked if I would take them back.

I agreed because the only other arrangement he could find would be for Fox and not for both. I couldn’t bare the thought of splitting them up. On one occasion Falco had escaped the house and been lost for three days. During that time his sister Fox sat by the door and yowled or sat there quietly staring at the door – waiting. Luckily, we finally found Falco under a neighbor’s deck and things returned to normal. Normal for them was bickering and fighting each other, and then later, you’d find them cuddling. But those three days when Falco went missing, it was heartbreaking to see how Fox, this tiny simple animal, yearned for him until he was returned – as if a piece of her had gone missing.

***

Falco got pretty sick about a year ago. At 13 it’s pretty common to start to see cats get kidney diseases or have thyroid issues (which in turn causes cardiac issues). We decided to medicate him anyway but the vet mentioned it may or may not be successful long term. And over the months, he just didn’t seem to get better. He lost most of his weight and was always hungry.

After my brother died, to be honest I couldn’t pay as much attention to him as I would have liked. But I did notice one thing. When I would lay in bed, trying to get a grip on who I was, sometimes wildly switching, there were many, many, times that suddenly I would feel Falco’s head lightly bumping in to me or him laying across my arm dutifully, as if to say, “Where are you? Come back…be here with me…“. In those moments when I was so far away in my own head trying to forget the world existed, in the most gentle and loving way, he brought me back. So many times his affection would put a smile on my face no matter how lost I was in my own pain.

And because I always felt bad that Falco lost his first and favorite human companion, just for him, I would try my best to pet him in the same way that David would. I would flick his little ear between my finger and thumb and listen to him purr. In that way, we would comfort each other.

Over the past few months because I have had so many bad moments where I was curled up in bed and couldn’t move, Falco and I saw each other a lot and bonded more than we ever had.

Or maybe Falco knew that time was running out. Or maybe, he was just cold due to losing all that weight, but for whatever reason, the last nine months he has been the most affectionate towards me out of the five pets that I have.

I won’t forget that, Falco, thank you. <3

***

This past week, was really hard. I had worked two 9am-4am shifts in a row. I had a deadline and I needed to make it work. In the evenings, I struggled with shutting out the painful emotions swirling around the idea of selling my brother’s house. I couldn’t afford to have a mental breakdown so I numbed myself out. I’ve been extremely high or drunk every day this week in the evenings so that I didn’t have to think about how stressed out I was or how much pain I was in. Because every night before I was able to escape to drug induced sleep, the voice haunted me… cut yourself, cut yourself, cut yourself. You deserve to be punished cut yourself. It will feel good. cut yourself.

I resisted.

I resisted and lay there avoiding movement less I find myself in a quiet corner of the house slicing into my own flesh.

After a week of that, I was exhausted, but I still had to get up early to field a call. So at 8a I went straight up to my office instead of going downstairs as I normally do. Hours later, I had finally finished up the last bit of work and went downstairs around 330pm. The first thing I noticed in the kitchen was my cat, laying next to the food and water bowls. Unusual. I then saw him unfurl and lay on his side looking extremely lethargic.

I heard R behind me and I asked him, “Have you seen him eat?”

R responded, “Not that I’ve seen, I tried a few different foods and nothing, also he’d been throwing up foamy liquid.” My eyes widened, “And you thought that was all normal even since this morning??” He explained he was just observing at this point because otherwise he just seemed kind of tired.

I looked at Falco on the floor; his posture said everything. I looked at R and firmly but gently said, “No, none of this is okay we need to take him to the emergency vet now.”

I sat in the exam room and looked at Falco’s little body inside the crate. Normally, Falco would be yowling to get out and crawl all over the room in curiosity. But this time he lay still and almost motionless except for the slow and shallow rise and fall of his chest. In a lot of ways, he looked like the same sleepy kitten on the day I adopted him.

When the vet came in, even behind her mask, I could see it on her face. The short quick in-take of breathe, bracing herself for having to tell someone their beloved pet is very near death. She asked a few questions but explained that doing any bloodwork at this point and then waiting on results would be too long and he would likely not make it before results came in. That, his pulse was so low he will likely pass away soon naturally. It was our call, let him come home and pass away in the house, unsure of suffering or how it might affect other pets, or euthanize him.

I knew Falco had been sick for months now, he yowled at his bowl for food but would barely eat when we put food out and was always thirsty. I had taken him to the vet a few times to ask about it and they said, his numbers are fine for his age and for the condition he was in. But to me he looked cold and meek, a slight of what he used to be.

Just three days prior, the hard winds blew our door open on a sunny afternoon and Falco escaped for 30 terrifying minutes. I briskly walked around the block asking neighbors if they’d seen a black cat, tracing his steps. And as I was just about to get in my car to extend my search, I miraculously saw his shadowy form sauntering up to our front door.

Little scamp took one more opportunity for a joy ride or maybe that was the universe’s way of giving him a final taste of this sweet world.

In the end we decided he seemed ready. Even though I will miss that damn cat dearly, I felt it in my heart. I stroked his little head, and flicked his ear between my finger and thumb one more time and let him go.

I know it’s just a cat, but he was my cat. Even though he wasn’t always with me, he spent the majority of his life with me. Everyone always remarked on how friendly he was. When people came over, Falco would walk right up to them when most cats would hide. You could play fetch with him. I would fling one of my hair ties across the room and he’d go find it and bring it back. And he loved picking on his sister, only to ask for cuddles later when he was cold. Those unique personalities are what get to you. That special bond between human and animal, the magic that just happens by living with a creature for years despite not speaking the same language, it’s not really quantifiable, is it? But it’s there and it’s special, and once it’s gone, it’s gone.

Some of my friends were there the day I brought him home and they’ll be sad to hear of his passing. And I know his sister will grieve. How strange that is for me, because I know it’s not the same, I know it’s just a cat, but I really believe I know exactly how she’ll feel.

Whether he knew it or not, that little creature made a positive impact on my mental health during some of the worst times in my life. He also carried so much of my history, it’s like a part of my story so it feels like some of that is fading away with him. It’s part of why this stings so badly.

Before I let him go, I asked him to go look after my brother. Sit on his lap, the way my brother’s cat would (my niece takes care of my brother’s cat now), and keep him company until I’m there, until we’re all there. One day soon, buddy.

Words can never express my gratitude for having you in my life for the short time that it was.

I love you Falco. <3