Nixon Leslie (1989-2004)
God killed my cat yesterday.
I’ve owned Nixon, my cat, for 15 years, since he was six weeks old. The rest of the family was not so attached to him; he didn’t like humans. He liked me, though mainly it’s because I fed and pet him.
He tolerated the rest of the family, who felt in his last year that I should euthanize him. I didn’t; I don’t approve of euthanasia, and hardly think arthritis is enough of a reason for it. I will of course remind them of this when their joints start to ache.
I’ve been an absent owner a lot, what with living in places that don’t accept pets. The past three months have been at school. I suppose it’s better that I was back to see him before he died.
I feel sadness and loss, of course. I don’t know if animals have an afterlife; despite what we tell children, we don’t know anything about their spiritual nature, or even if they have one. Do I have any hope of seeing him again? Well, what I have hope in is that God is good, and that’ll have to do.