Home Just Won't Quite Feel Like Home Anymore
It's been a heavy day. Normally on a day like today, i'd be posting about last night's TV on the Radio show, at which i got mind-numbingly wasted, but by now it seems so insignificant in the scheme of things. i guess today started out a little weirder than the average wednesday because i woke up sweating on Adam's couch with the Black Keys blaring, signalling to me that it was time to catch a train home. It took me an hour to get from the upper east side back to Brooklyn, and by about 10:00 i was back in my own bed, still sweating and nursing a pretty fantastic hangover. i had to go to work tonight at 6 and it was my full intention to sleep as long as possible. i was awakened throughout the morning on various occasions by cars pulling up in the street and blaring rap and reggaeton, which was so loud that everyone in Brooklyn must have heard that new Ludacris song today. it ain't easy to sleep under such conditions. i was awakened more thoroughly at 2:10 by my phone vibrating, and saw that it was my mom. For whatever reason, i instantly understood that this was news about Chester. My cat has been inexplicably sick for about five weeks now, and on Monday my parents drove him to Tufts so that they could finally figure out what's been wrong with the guy, who for my entire life i've affectionately referred to as "buddy" even though his name is not Buddy. i didn't pick up the phone at 2:10, because the reggaeton had finally stopped and i wanted to get some real sleep. i understood what was happening, but between sleep deprivation and probably still being drunk, i wasn't able to do much about it so i decided to let it wait. At about 3:30, the reggaeton had begun again, and i rose, took my phone and went and sat in the bathroom where the music from the street couldn't reach me as much. My worst fears had been confirmed: a biopsy had revealed that Chester had cancer of the liver and pancreas, and my parents had given them permission to put him to sleep.
It was undoubtedly a painful struggle for him, and while i don't know when exactly cells started mutating and corrupting his insides, i do know that when we returned from a vacation in Colorado on September 5th, he showed no signs of illness. i moved to New York on the 6th, and that was the last time i would see Chester as the healthy affectionate kitty he had always been. Apparently his condition devolved incredibly quickly: i returned home on the 23rd of September for less than 24 hours. He was at that point mostly not moving or talking, two things that you could never have kept him from doing before. Before, all you had to do was look at Chester and he would start purring; that weekend i got him to purr once, for about 30 seconds. He didn't seem interested in letting anyone pet him, and though he would briefly show interest, he was more interested in hiding at that point, clearly uncomfortable no matter what he did. The last time i spent with him he was upstairs, doing this sort of half-sit/half-lie down that he consistently did that weekend, obviously in pain. i just lay down on the carpet and sat with him because we couldn't do anything else. i'm sure if there was one thing he wanted it was to tell someone what was wrong so that they could fix him. For five weeks before he went to Tufts they couldn't figure out what was going on. First he was diagnosed with a broken rib and a urinary tract infection, the latter for which he was prescribed antibiotics. When he showed no progress, and started breaking out in sores, he was given antihistamines for what was apparently an allergy. The the biopsy determined that the lesions were not cancerous, it is assumed that they are somehow linked to the presence of the cancer. By the end, my mom said, he was unrecognizable, and could barely lift his head. They had decided to end his pain because there was little that could be done and they didn't deem it fair to put him through it anymore. When my grandfather got cancer in 1998, it paralleled Chester in how quickly it took him. Diagnosed with a brain tumor in April, he was gone by October. But for some reason, i felt entirely prepared for that. We watched him devolve from a quick witted man into someone again unrecognizable, but we knew all along about the cancer. With Chester we never knew that, and though i was prepared for this, i also kind of always assumed that he would come back and be back to his normal self, my buddy, by the next time i was home.
We got Chester and his sister Snickers in 1995 when they were kittens. I had just finished 5th grade and our old cat, Oliver, had died months before at the age of, i think, 21. Chester and i had always had a bond, and though when the cats were younger i had frequently stated that he was my best friend, as i grew older and went off to school it became more and more obvious how true this was. Dog owners often refer to their canine companions as man's best friend. i don't think that anything could be more applicable to Chester, who always greeted you at the door and was extremely affectionate and exceptionally vocal. He could be confounding too; he never learned to be picked up or to sit in your lap. He would demand attention and when you picked him up, start purring and simultaneously squirming to get down. As soon as you put him down he would ask to be picked up again. He would often sit at the opposite end of the couch from you and purr, and look at you as if to say, "why aren't you petting me?" If you sat too close he would get down and go repeat the action from the other side. But i've never known a cat who loved people as much as Chester did, and i've never had a friend that was so loyal to me. We had this playscape that the cats loved when they were kittens. As they outgrew it, we kept it by the back window in the Farm Hill Rd house and Chester would sit on top of it and watch birds and squirrels. This was the one place where you could pet Chester for hours. He would lead you there and leap up and meow and start purring. When we moved to Bloomfield, we kept it by the back window for similar wildlife watching. Chester continued to lead me there when he really wanted attention.
Another confounding thing about Chester is that unlike his sister, who practically sleeps in my mom's arms, Chester would never sleep on the bed with someone. The night of the 5th, he slept on my bed for the first time in his 11 years. I had detected this summer that Chester seemed more attention-desperate than normal, and on more than one occasion wondered if somehow this was Chester knowing his end was coming. But on the 5th i didn't think about that, i was just completely floored that he would even do such a thing. It was out of character in terms of his actions, but not out of character for his personality. Whether or not he knew that he was getting sick this summer will never be known, but he often would let his big voice out in our great new house to announce that he wanted to both give and receive affection. That house will lie relatively quiet now, as i'm sure it has for my parents in the last 5 weeks, but i'm happy to know that they at least know what was killing him, and that he's not in pain tonight as he has been.
Some may find this humanization of an animal trite or silly, but i think it speaks to how important the presence of animals can be in our life, especially when we treat them as we want to be treated. Chester couldn't speak with me, but always seemed to have a keen understanding of what was going on with the people in his life. Yeakel and i often talk about how we're friends for life, and i don't doubt that. But today's reflections bring new meaning to the phrase. Chester was unflappable in his devotion to me, and he really was "my cat," the same way Snickers is my mom's cat, even though they are both family cats. i spent a lot of time away at college, but Chester never wavered in his devotion to me.
i guess i intended this to be some treatise about the temporality of life, or the transcendence of friendship, but i guess i wound up just rambling about something personal, which if you've ever read one of my college essays you'd understand is what i always wind up doing anyway. More than anything, i guess its a way to talk to "somone" since this city can be pretty lonely sometimes and i haven't really talked to anyone about this yet. But i suppose what i want to say more than anything is Chester, i'm glad you're not in pain and done suffering. Rest in peace, my best friend.
It was undoubtedly a painful struggle for him, and while i don't know when exactly cells started mutating and corrupting his insides, i do know that when we returned from a vacation in Colorado on September 5th, he showed no signs of illness. i moved to New York on the 6th, and that was the last time i would see Chester as the healthy affectionate kitty he had always been. Apparently his condition devolved incredibly quickly: i returned home on the 23rd of September for less than 24 hours. He was at that point mostly not moving or talking, two things that you could never have kept him from doing before. Before, all you had to do was look at Chester and he would start purring; that weekend i got him to purr once, for about 30 seconds. He didn't seem interested in letting anyone pet him, and though he would briefly show interest, he was more interested in hiding at that point, clearly uncomfortable no matter what he did. The last time i spent with him he was upstairs, doing this sort of half-sit/half-lie down that he consistently did that weekend, obviously in pain. i just lay down on the carpet and sat with him because we couldn't do anything else. i'm sure if there was one thing he wanted it was to tell someone what was wrong so that they could fix him. For five weeks before he went to Tufts they couldn't figure out what was going on. First he was diagnosed with a broken rib and a urinary tract infection, the latter for which he was prescribed antibiotics. When he showed no progress, and started breaking out in sores, he was given antihistamines for what was apparently an allergy. The the biopsy determined that the lesions were not cancerous, it is assumed that they are somehow linked to the presence of the cancer. By the end, my mom said, he was unrecognizable, and could barely lift his head. They had decided to end his pain because there was little that could be done and they didn't deem it fair to put him through it anymore. When my grandfather got cancer in 1998, it paralleled Chester in how quickly it took him. Diagnosed with a brain tumor in April, he was gone by October. But for some reason, i felt entirely prepared for that. We watched him devolve from a quick witted man into someone again unrecognizable, but we knew all along about the cancer. With Chester we never knew that, and though i was prepared for this, i also kind of always assumed that he would come back and be back to his normal self, my buddy, by the next time i was home.
We got Chester and his sister Snickers in 1995 when they were kittens. I had just finished 5th grade and our old cat, Oliver, had died months before at the age of, i think, 21. Chester and i had always had a bond, and though when the cats were younger i had frequently stated that he was my best friend, as i grew older and went off to school it became more and more obvious how true this was. Dog owners often refer to their canine companions as man's best friend. i don't think that anything could be more applicable to Chester, who always greeted you at the door and was extremely affectionate and exceptionally vocal. He could be confounding too; he never learned to be picked up or to sit in your lap. He would demand attention and when you picked him up, start purring and simultaneously squirming to get down. As soon as you put him down he would ask to be picked up again. He would often sit at the opposite end of the couch from you and purr, and look at you as if to say, "why aren't you petting me?" If you sat too close he would get down and go repeat the action from the other side. But i've never known a cat who loved people as much as Chester did, and i've never had a friend that was so loyal to me. We had this playscape that the cats loved when they were kittens. As they outgrew it, we kept it by the back window in the Farm Hill Rd house and Chester would sit on top of it and watch birds and squirrels. This was the one place where you could pet Chester for hours. He would lead you there and leap up and meow and start purring. When we moved to Bloomfield, we kept it by the back window for similar wildlife watching. Chester continued to lead me there when he really wanted attention.
Another confounding thing about Chester is that unlike his sister, who practically sleeps in my mom's arms, Chester would never sleep on the bed with someone. The night of the 5th, he slept on my bed for the first time in his 11 years. I had detected this summer that Chester seemed more attention-desperate than normal, and on more than one occasion wondered if somehow this was Chester knowing his end was coming. But on the 5th i didn't think about that, i was just completely floored that he would even do such a thing. It was out of character in terms of his actions, but not out of character for his personality. Whether or not he knew that he was getting sick this summer will never be known, but he often would let his big voice out in our great new house to announce that he wanted to both give and receive affection. That house will lie relatively quiet now, as i'm sure it has for my parents in the last 5 weeks, but i'm happy to know that they at least know what was killing him, and that he's not in pain tonight as he has been.
Some may find this humanization of an animal trite or silly, but i think it speaks to how important the presence of animals can be in our life, especially when we treat them as we want to be treated. Chester couldn't speak with me, but always seemed to have a keen understanding of what was going on with the people in his life. Yeakel and i often talk about how we're friends for life, and i don't doubt that. But today's reflections bring new meaning to the phrase. Chester was unflappable in his devotion to me, and he really was "my cat," the same way Snickers is my mom's cat, even though they are both family cats. i spent a lot of time away at college, but Chester never wavered in his devotion to me.
i guess i intended this to be some treatise about the temporality of life, or the transcendence of friendship, but i guess i wound up just rambling about something personal, which if you've ever read one of my college essays you'd understand is what i always wind up doing anyway. More than anything, i guess its a way to talk to "somone" since this city can be pretty lonely sometimes and i haven't really talked to anyone about this yet. But i suppose what i want to say more than anything is Chester, i'm glad you're not in pain and done suffering. Rest in peace, my best friend.
posted by todd at 23:51
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