My cat is dead

i know this post doesnt belong here, on a website about depression and suicide, but i really need to do something other than cry about it.

Nixon was my cat since i was born, when i lived in a different state. I remember him scratching me when i petted him in the eyes when i was about three. I remember him scratching me when my parents were arguing. I remember falling asleep during breakfast and nixon rubbed my hand which was hanging down. he used to rub against my grandmas hand while we ate and she would say “no i wont give you food.” Mostly I remember him just sitting there perched on the top step quietly observing with his green eyes. He always scampered up the stairs and under my parents bed when the doorbell rang. He would come onto the porch during spring when we had family dinners, he stared at the neighbor cats and meowed at them. i remember him just being there in the house, walking in on me when i was watching tv, scamperinh up the stairs, hissing, scratching, lovingly coming out from under the bed and rubbing against my hand.

He was put to sleep though, a few days ago. i didnt know but my dad thought i did so he accidentely told me when we were walking back from starbucks. now i look at the space where his feeder used to be and think where is nixon’s food? i dont remember at first. I look up to the top step and under the bed and up the useless chimney and in the basement expecting to see him walking around quietly. i see him everywhere even though i dont see him. i miss him so much. i miss every detail of him.

my cat is dead. as of today since this is when i found out, my cat died nixon died on december 25th. but he’s never completely dead. never.