Mr. Kat

          The inside of my right nostril constricted violently and I sneezed, once, twice, three times! I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter, willing sleep back to me althouh I knew it was futile. Mr. Kat needed to tinkle, and he needed to tinkle NOW. I swung my feet out over the side of my bed, rubbing my hip absently and keeping my eyes shut until I had shoved both of my feet into the slippers by my bedside. When I opened my eyes, they itched and burned; the familiar twinge I was faced with every morning hovered around my nose, threatening my ability to contain an insane amount of sneezes from slipping past. Allergies. Even after spending over thirteen years with Mr. Kat, I still had not grown imune to the stray cat hairs that found their way into my system, constantly stopping up my nose and causing red-rimmed eyes no matter how much sleep I got. I sighed and listened through the quiet house for Mr. Kat's little bell, the one that signaled she was up and moving around, ready for her day to  start. I stared at my alarm, confused by the time that I saw.

          9:50

          Now that was strange. I rubbed my tired eyes, hoping the numbers would begin to make sense to me. Mr. Kat usually wakes me at exactly 7 o'clock, expecting her medication, food and water, and fresh litter for the day. I strained my ears a little harder, hoping I would hear Mr. Kat's little bell, but to no avail, the house was silent as a grave. I stood warily and looked around my room, beginning with the foot of my bed. It was protocol that I placed Mr. Kat's kitty bed directly at the foot of mine, and place her favorite cat toy in the corner of the kitty bed where she sleeps. At night, if the cat toy wasn't there, Mr. Kat would howl  and howl and refuse to sleep until I found the toy and placed it in bed with her. It was Mr. Kat's protocol, rules I am perfectly content to follow. In all of the years that I have had Mr. Kat, she has almost been hit by a car twice (the same car, no less) ran away once (she returned shortly thereafter, no worse for wear) and placed herself in a severe cat fight, which caused her to lose her right eye and large chunks out of both of ears. Her ears had healed over time, but it was her eye that continuosly gave me cause for concern. I had to take Mr. Kat to the vet numorous times over the past year to get her medications for the infections that keep popping up around her eye area. The last time I took her for a check-up, the vet told me I should be expecting a good-bye soon enough, Mr. Kat was just too worn down to go any further.           But surely her death couldn't be expected THIS soon. Over the last week I had followed protocol down to the letter. I never missed a feeding, I never over-fed her. I kept her out of the trash and inside out of harms way. I cleaned her litter box every morning after I gave her her medication and once again an hour before bedtime (9 o'clock for both of us old farts) and I haven't forgotten her toy ONCE in a very long while, so Mr. Kat has received plenty of sleep. I shuffled from my bedroom to our tiny kitchen and looked about, moving on to the guest room when I didn't see her in the kitchen. There she was, laying on the guest bed as I had found her many times before, basking in the afternoon sun that fell upon the bed. Except now I could tell that Mr. Kat was not napping, or enjoying the sun. In fact, upon further inspection, I realized Mr. Kat had stopped breathing. My eyes teared up, and not because of allergies. Mr. Kat had been with me for so very long, my dearest companion. She had put up a good fight. "Anyone who considers protocol unimportant has never dealt with a cat." As important as following protocol is, I suppose it never saves lives....