04 April 2017

Princess Josephine, 10/16/2006 - 3/30/2017

Four years ago, I wrote about how my cat Josephine came into my life. It breaks my heart to now have to write about how she left it last Thursday (30 March). I wrote this originally in a Facebook post that evening, primarily as a means of informing as many of my family and friends all at once as I could, sparing me from having to type it out repeatedly. I haven't been able, however, to bring myself to write a blog post about her. I don't know why I should distinguish between the two, as though somehow whatever I write on Facebook is inferior to what I would write here. That curiosity is for another time, though. For now, I've just chosen to copy and paste because there really isn't much for me to add.

My favorite picture of Josephine.
Josephine had exhibited nothing whatsoever to indicate anything was wrong, so her passing was entirely unexpected. Her behavior up to the time I went to bed was completely typical. She was energetic, had an appetite, was affectionate as ever.... I need to believe that whatever happened, happened suddenly and that she was spared any suffering.

Almost every night for the last decade, Jos has purred me to sleep. When I haven't felt well and was whiny, I'd beg her to come to bed just so I could fall asleep. Time and again, she would dutifully come tend to me, even when I could tell she just wanted to get back up and go do whatever it was she wanted to do. When I've been inpatient, whether for Crohn's or mental issues, I've relied on the muscle memory of snuggling with her to coax myself into sleep.

She really was a soulmate, and I mean that in its truest sense. We just belonged together. She made me feel accepted and loved in ways that no one else has; no other pet, and not even any human. I don't mean to slight anyone when I say this.

She was amazingly patient with me. I would pick out her eye crusties. Sometimes I would muss with her head, as I did on our final night together, just to see how much she would tolerate. I always gave up before she did. She could not have been more docile (unless you ask Muffin, whom she unfortunately and surprisingly did take to bullying over the last year and a half).

Jos was so close to me that my absence was a source of separation anxiety for her. Even just going upstairs set off a timer for her, and when it expired, she would mew until I finally returned. She didn't really need me to do anything to make her feel better except just to have me back in her field of vision. That was enough to content her.

I'm still too stunned to feel much of anything else. I feel an expected emptiness which I know the passage of time will help alleviate. I can't imagine, though, that going to bed will ever not feel empty after this loss.

My imagination was entirely right about that last point. Going to bed has been truly painful. That first night, I tried clutching a throw pillow. I threw it after maybe a full minute, rejecting the unacceptable substitute for my princess. I can get through being awake okay-ish, but even the act of physically getting into bed is agonizing. I haven't been able to fall or stay asleep for days now.

Jos indulging my by wearing an elf hat, Christmas, 2011.
Note: I have no idea when Josephine was actually born. 16 October is her "birthday (observed)", as that is the day that the incident involving Josephine Baker, for whom she was named, took place. This is recounted in the piece I mentioned in my opening remarks that I wrote about her a few years ago. I'll spare you having to scroll back up for the link in case you're interested. It's right here.

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