Why is losing a pet sometimes as hard as losing a family member?  Yesterday when my cat Zach died, I think I cried just as hard for him as I did when my brother passed away.  People become so attached to animals that they become like members of the family.  Zach was definitely a member of my family. 

I got Zach only three and a half years ago, although it seems much longer.  In 1998, I had a cat named Fluffball who was missing.  I put up posters all over the neighborhood, and eight days after he was missing, I received a phone call stating that a couple who lived around the corner from my house had found him in their front yard, under a tree, dead.  I was heartbroken.  Zach had been my first “real” pet; different from the goldfish and hamsters that everyone has growing up.  Fluffball had died an early death – he was only eight years old and surely had a few more years on him.  But nevertheless, he was gone.

The day after I received this bad news, I received yet another phone call from someone who had seen my missing cat posters.  He and his girlfriend lived a short ways up the street from me and had a cat they needed to find a home for.  They figured that someone who would take the time to put up so many posters would make a good home for their cat, Zach.  I went to meet Zach that day and took him home with me on January 9, 1998. 

Zach was mostly tiger, with a large chunk of white on his underside, with some black and brown mixed in too.  I brought him home that Saturday and tried to play with him and pet him, but he wanted nothing to do with the idea.  I think he was homesick for his previous owners.  He found the perfect hiding spot, and when I couldn’t find him I was sure that he had gotten out of the house and attempted to run back to his old home.  We finally did find him, however, in my brother’s bedroom in the corner hiding underneath a foam mattress.  For the first few days that Zach came to live with me, he didn’t take to me too easily.  I think the change of environment was hard on him and he wasn’t adjusting too easily.  Whenever I tried to pet him, he hissed and swatted at me, then ran away to hide once again.  Finally, one time he jumped up onto my bed and lay down next to me.  He let me pet him and began purring to no end.  All of a sudden, he realized that he had let his guard down and he hissed once again, swatted at me, and then ran off. 

It took maybe a week for Zach to become accustomed to his new home, but once he was adjusted he enjoyed himself quite a bit.  Zach loved to play with hair bands, and I would fling them towards him and he would run and chase them.  Once he got to it, though, he would leave it where it was, then meow for me to throw another.  Another game was also liked to play was “Hide and Seek.”  I would hide around the corner and peek out from the side of the wall.  Zach would see me and “meow” and I would duck back behind the wall real quick.  This could go on for quite some time, and Zach never got tired of it, although I easily did. 

Zach had a very distinguished “meow.”  It was like he forgot the “e,” I always say.  He said “mow” instead.  And he said “mow” a lot.  He loved to hear himself talk, especially when it was time to eat.

After I moved in with my fiancé Chris, Zach took an immediate liking to him.  Zach was always an affectionate cat, but not necessarily a lap cat. With Chris it was different, however.  Zach constantly sought out Chris, and would climb all over him until he found a comfortable spot in the center of Chris’ chest when he lay down.  Zach would sit there and purr contentedly for as long as Chris would let him.  Zach also loved having his “button” scratched.  This is the area right at the end of the back, before it meets the tail.  Zach would go nuts when his “button” was scratched, and he would begin to lick – sometimes at nothing even, and you would see his little pink tongue darting in and out at the air.  If you put your finger or hand by his mouth, he would lick it ferociously. 

Zach also became our alarm clock.  Each morning at about 5:30 AM, Zach would jump up on the bed and crawl around Chris’ head in circles, gently nibbling his nose and chin, trying to wake him up.  The he would settle down, right along the top of Chris’ head, and purr until one of us got up and fed him.  But it was always Chris that he went to.  It impressed me how much affection this cat had towards Chris. 

After we moved to Florida, Zach began losing weight.  In all, he lost about half of his body weight in a 4 month period.  He began throwing up regularly.  We dismissed it at first, thinking that he was eating too fast and not digesting properly because of that.  Zach would gobble his food, sometimes neglecting to chew it before he swallowed it.  We attributed the vomiting to this, and didn’t pay too much attention to that fact that he was beginning to get ill.  Then, Zach started to get regular diarrhea.  It was at this point that we took him to the vet.  The vet ran some tests, one of them being for diabetes, and also tested his stool for bacteria.  Both tests came out negative, and the vet said her opinion was that Zach might have had a pancreatic infection.  She prescribed some antibiotics and said that he would be just fine. 

Zach did indeed get better while taking the antibiotics.  The vomiting ceased altogether, and the diarrhea was less often.  He had even gained back a couple pounds.  We figured he was recovered and that there nothing left to worry about.

On August 25, Chris and I spent the day at Disney and Zach and our other cat Simba were at home, doing what they did best – sleeping, a little eating, some more sleeping…We returned home later that night, and everything seemed to be normal.  I fed the cats, then we went to bed.

Sunday morning, I awoke at 7:25 AM when Chris got out of bed and went over to Zach, who was lying on his side, making a sort of choking noise.  I got up and Chris kept telling me to go back to bed, which made me want to stay with Zach all the more.  Chris and I held Zach as he took his final breaths, then we buried him in the back yard.  We are still not sure what happened to him.  Maybe the vet misdiagnosed him.  Maybe he had a heart attack.  Chris said his heart was racing when he was petting him that morning.  Maybe he was just old and it was his time to go.  Regardless of the reason, it still hurts to not have him around.  It still hurts to not hear him say “mow” to me as soon as I come home from work.  It hurts to look at the clock in the morning and realize that Zach isn’t around to nibble on Chris’ nose and his chin.  And it hurts that I didn’t get to spend more time with him before he died.  If I only had known.
PLEASE SEND ME YOUR FEEDBACK.  USE THE AREA TO THE RIGHT TO TYPE YOUR THOUGHTS ON WHAT YOU JUST READ.  DON'T FORGET YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS.  THEN, CLICK "SEND"
Return to THE WRITERS' CORNER
Return  HOME
My Cat Zach