Eyes Wide Open

My cat died a couple of nights ago. We live in a family of four and we've had numerous cats over the last 10 years, but this one was mine.

I named him Bugsy, after the musical Bugsy Malone and the mythical gangster. I found the whole film to be confusing, but no less amusing as a young child. I admired the main character Bugsy Malone for his ability to walk the line.

My recently departed cat, Bugsy, and his brothers were dumped near a public garbage receptacle. They were barely weaned off mom's milk and clear signs of starvation had set in. Six brothers in all were abandoned and Bugsy was the runt.

A few of us at my place of employment divided up the cats to provide them with a good home. I took two. At first, I was only going to take one cat, but no one wanted Bugsy. He was the most sickly looking of the group. I took him home and on the drive, he and his brother climbed my legs and perched themselves on either shoulder.

Bugsy was an introverted cat with a personality much like my own. He could care less if you were in the room, he just kept doing his own thing and although he was a very loving cat, he could be accused of being anti-social. That's probably common to most cats, but Bugsy was a bit extreme.

At the age of five, his brother contracted a lung infection and died. The product, I'm certain, of having been dumped and malnourished as a kitten. We lost five other cats during the seven years we owned Bugsy. One very recently was struck by a car; he likely died while looking for another one of cats who vanished, we had another one vanish (probably a coyote), and the family favorite Maxx, was I believe also taken by a coyote.

Bugsy was a survivor. Each death effected him I think, but no car or coyote was ever going to get him. He was too cautious and too smart. He always faced life, challenges, and the outdoors with both eyes bugging out, wide open.

About three months ago, Bugsy developed a leaky heart. It started as chest congestion and later the blood moved into his stomach. Last week, he started vomiting blood. The vets said there wasn't much we could do, but they offered us some medicine to attempt regulating the leak. Bugsy hated medicine. He was like an old man who refused it with all his might. We'd find the pills all over the house where he'd hack them back up after we forced them down his throat.

A couple of days ago it looked like Bugsy wasn't going to make it through the week. He had hacked up some really large blood clots, lost half his weight, and wouldn't even get up to use the bathroom. I grew up around animals, so I knew what was coming.

I took him to the vet with every intention of putting him down. When the doctor brought in the paper work for me to sign to end his life, Bugsy sprung to life. He purred and nuzzled up on me, looking up with those buggy eyes wide open. I couldn't do it. He didn't want me to do it. So, I took him home and fixed him a place by the window. Around midnight, I headed to bed. I stopped and stroked him a few times, he looked really bad, but comfortable.

I'm a very sound sleeper and almost never awake in the middle of the night unless something is out of order. My kids come into my room and my wife gets up without me ever knowing some nights. But I heard a sound around 3:40 in the morning. Instinctively, I knew it was my cat.

Bugsy was stretched out in the spasms of death. His breathing was quick and labored. I knelt down beside him and began stroking his fur. Within 30 seconds he passed very peacefully. He was waiting for me, I knew.

At first, I felt guilty that I didn't put him down that morning. I wondered if I made him suffer needlessly. But I think that Bugsy wanted to die his own way, on his own time. That's the kind of cat he was. He died with his eyes wide open, just like he lived his life: head-on and self-assured. It was a good death. If only we could all be that lucky.

Early that morning a dug a hole out back. I carried his stiffening body there and curled him up in the hole. As I folded him neatly inside, a pocket of trapped air emerged in growl. I jumped back startled and frightened. His eyes were still wide open, and he held a last breath and a last message the grave... a deep, maddening growl. Head-on, self assured, eyes wide open, and growling at death with his last breath. If only we could all be that brave.