Requiem for Onyx Part 3: One Year Later

Photo by Gijs Coolen on Unsplash

I hope I made the right call.

In case you missed it, read “Part 1” and “Part 2” here. 

My heart practically stopped when I got the news. I hung up and took a moment to weigh the decision.

I never imagined losing Onyx. While it wasn’t the first time I lost a pet, it was the first time that I had to deal with it directly. Before this, that responsibility fell on my parents. 

An entire life flashed before my eyes. Relationships. Friendships. Homes. Jobs. Onyx was by my side through it all. The lion share of my early adult life.

Though Onyx had developed digestion issues a few months prior, I was in denial that anything was seriously wrong.

While he was never formally diagnosed, it was presumed to be cancer.  

I can understand why some owners keep their pets alive for as long as possible.

However, Onyx was in a lot of pain. As much as I loved him, I couldn’t keep him alive for my sake.

A part of me died when I scheduled an appointment for later that afternoon.

Took off work and spent the day with him. Kept him as comfortable as possible.

He just stared at me with glassy eyes. He was slipping away and no longer himself.

I tried to be strong, but that wasn’t easy since he was literally dying in my arms. 

I remembered that he asked to go outside earlier that morning.  

“Why did you want to go outside?” I wondered. 

I brought him to the backyard. Put him down and held up his back legs. He was able to direct where to go, but I carried him the whole way.

I suppose that was only fair since he carried me since I was 25 years old.

He guided me to the back gate, to the path that led between the neighbors' houses.

When cats are near death, they do not want to be a burden. So, they seek a hiding place where they can die alone.

“Sorry, bud. You’re stuck with me,” I said. 

He shivered in the sun. I scooped him up, wrapped him tight in a blanket, and brought him inside. 

Before it was time to leave, Olive came by to say hello…and goodbye…to his dear friend of over 10 years.

My friend and neighbor, Shelli, was kind enough to drive us to his final destination.

I held Onyx in my lap and watched him, watching the neighborhood pass by. 

The vet invited us into the exam room. I sat on a bench with him in my arms. The vet, Shelli, and I talked about our fondest memories for a few minutes. 

“It’s time,” the vet said.  

Tears streamed down my face, but before I stood up, Onyx gave a weak meow. More of a murmur. 

“What bud? What is it?” I asked. 

He lifted his head as best as he could towards mine and nuzzled my face. His way of saying goodbye.

I laid him down on the table, and he was gone a few moments later. 

His Godfather, Fred, was the first person I contacted. 

“That cat was on death’s doorstep when we found him. He had an incredible life because of you,” Fred offered.   

I was a crying zombie for weeks. It was the little things that made it so hard. 

Running my hand across the bedspread to pet him. Leaving the bedroom door cracked so he could get in and out.

Waking up in the middle of the night to feel him against my leg. Cleaning the litter box first thing. Making sure there was enough food and water before leaving for work. 

Habits accumulated from over 15 years. No more.

To make matters worse, Olive became ill and also passed away 22 days later. I guess he didn’t want to be without his friend.

Darkness fell over Pecan Place and the houses became shockingly still.

When Onyx’s ashes arrived, I opened the box. The bag was so tiny. Hard to imagine that my memories were all that remained.  

Unfortunately, not everyone in my workplace was an animal person. An unemphatic coworker looked at me, “just get another cat.”

While I understood the logic and some people who can get a new pet immediately, I’m not that person.

Had I got a new pet, I would resent that it wasn’t Onyx. To me, that bond was irreplaceable. Even if a new cat came along down the road, the connection is different. 

Fortunately, another coworker had a cat for over 20 years. She understood the loss and offered condolences.

In addition, to being empathetic, she randomly found an onyx stone. The timing and shape were oddly coincidental.

I struggled for the better part of a year after I lost Onyx. Never realized just how much he impacted my life until he was gone. 

When his first anniversary rolled around, I purposefully spent time alone. In no way did I expect anyone to remember, but to my surprise, someone did. 

I was working when a meow interrupted me. Butterflies filled my stomach. For a split second, I thought it was Onyx.

Turned around and saw Dexter sitting on my porch. I opened the door, but before I could walk outside, Dexter invited himself in. 

It was his first time inside my house. He roamed everywhere and stopped at all Onyx's places.

The welcome mat, under the coffee table, the side window sill, where his dish and litter box were kept. Everywhere.

As if he were Onyx, himself. 

After he fell asleep in one of Onyx’s favorite spots in the living room, I had no idea what to do. I just blinked and eventually resumed working.

Dexter began to snore. I smiled, remembering how Onyx used to do the same. I was so grateful.

It truly felt like Onyx was in the house.

When Dexter woke up, he left, and hasn’t returned since. Not even to say hello.

Such a peculiar visit on a sorrowful anniversary. Coincidence aside, I prefer to think that after 15 years together, my spirit animal was determined to connect. Even if it meant soliciting the help of his archenemy. 

RIP Sir Sardonyx “Onyx” of House Gates, April 30, 2004 (approx.) - September 30, 2019 

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