Saying goodbye to Taggy
Never say of anything, “I have lost it,” but, “I have restored it.” Has your child died? It is restored. Has your wife died? She is restored. Has your estate been taken away? That likewise is restored. “But it was a bad man who took it.” What is it to you by whose hands he who gave it has demanded it again? While he permits you to possess it, hold it as something not your own, as do travelers at an inn. —The Enchiridion of Epictetus
Some might find these comments on death to be callous and blunt. I find them helpful. The default is nothingness. We are lucky to have others while we do. Moreover, reality is what it is, whether we like it or not. We can either fight reality, an impossible task, or we can find some way to live in harmony with reality. It’s easier said than done, but it’s our only real option.
Tagalong (Taggy) passed away on the last day of July. She was 15. Her health had declined suddenly the previous day after receiving bad news from the vet just a few days prior. It all happened so fast. She passed peacefully with her momma by her side, which is all I could have asked for.
I loved Taggy more than I can explain, but she was not my cat. She was rescued by a very good friend of mine, with whom she lived. My friend is rather private, so she asked that I not use her real name here. I also won’t include any photos of her. For the purposes of this blog post, I’ll call my friend Katie.
Katie’s love for Taggy was infectious. After hearing the heartwarming story of Taggy’s rescue several times, I wrote a simple children’s book memorializing the event. The words came together automatically. It’s about the closest I’ve come to experiencing “the muse” in any kind of artistic endeavor, if one doesn’t consider software development to be art. (I do consider software development to be art, or at least much more like art than most people imagine.) In one earlier instance, I had written a Mother’s Day card from Taggy to Katie. I told Katie that, in a very real sense, Taggy had written the card through me. I stand by that.
I don’t believe in the supernatural, but Taggy did her best to change my mind. She was more than a cat. She was a special soul.
At first, Taggy was afraid of me, as she was of everyone. She would run to the closet to hide whenever I visited. Even Katie’s roommate only met Taggy in person after living together for about one year. Katie’s former boyfriend never met her. I found it all very endearing. It’s easy to love those who need love.
Over time, with treats, patience, and valerian tea (apparently valerian is a cat attractant), Taggy came to trust me and understand that I had her best interests at heart. We became closer when she cuddled up next to me one Thanksgiving, as I babysat her, and it became easier from there. Many years later, during another babysitting session, we had become so close that Taggy got onto my chest to march and knead. Cats engage in these behaviors when they’re profoundly calm, and Taggy was. She had been thinking about getting onto my chest for some time that evening, after I reminded her that I don’t bite. I had seen the gears turning in her head. It’s my favorite memory of her.
We made many good memories on Independence Days, as well. Fireworks are so unkind to animals. Taggy always appreciated my company when her mom was out of town during the celebrations, and she demonstrated that gratitude through her actions. I think Taggy gave me her first headbutt, a sign of love and affection, on a 4th of July.
At one point, Katie said I was Taggy’s only friend. Sure, Taggy might hiss if I accidentally touched a sensitive spot or swat at me if she was tired of being brushed. She was a cat, after all, and that kind of thing is normal between friends. On those days, though, she would always approach me one last time as I was leaving, sweeter than usual, as if to forgive me.
There are few things in life more heartwarming than to be welcomed by a cat. — Tay Hohoff
The children’s book describes Taggy as incredibly brave. It was my way of focusing on the positive, despite her fearful tendencies. It’s not wrong, though. She came a long way. I don’t know how that could have been accomplished without immense bravery.
Speaking of the supernatural, and as an aside, I’m disappointed that some religions consider animals to be less than human. I consider them to be our equals. We might be more intelligent than other animals, but why should intelligence matter most? We would believe it’s paramount, given that we excel at it. Perhaps cats believe flexibility is most important, dogs think scent is key, and cheetahs value speed above all else. From their point of view, humans are pretty unexceptional.
All animals are conscious. All animals feel comfort and pain. In that way, we are equal. That’s the left brain explanation, anyway. Want your right hemisphere to understand? Look into their eyes.
I’m doing okay now. As I wrote earlier, grief is not as it appears in movies. It’s confusion and disbelief, it’s dull and numb, with periods of intense, breathless sadness when one is least expecting it. I broke down during a walk with Katie at Lollypop Farm, and there are times when I especially miss Taggy. Other moments feel ordinary.
At one point, I realized that Taggy will never come back. I knew it all along, of course, but it took time for me to understand, and even that understanding was temporary. It felt something like gasping for air; I can hold my breath for a while, but being told I’d never breathe again would be different. I had experienced extended absences from Taggy, but knowing the absence will not end is different.
All I know is that I can’t even imagine what Katie feels. I can’t imagine the trauma Katie has had to endure.
My greatest personal disappointment is that I won’t remember how much I loved Taggy. I can’t. Being with her was different, and I can’t be with her any more. I’ll read this post in 40 years and not quite understand. Even now, I don’t quite understand. When we spent quality time together, however, there was no doubt that we loved each other very much. All I can do is try my best to remember that, not in my head but in my heart. The necklace I bought, which safeguards some of Taggy’s hair and rests at heart level, has been helping. I often feel her love when I’m wearing it. I’m reminded that I earned her love. Sometimes, that’s enough.
I’m grateful to have spent time with Taggy while she was here. She may have been a black cat, but she added so much color to my life, and I added so much color to hers. If there is something after death, as much as I personally doubt it, I hope Taggy can put in a good word for me, someone who loved her when he didn’t need to precisely because she needed that love.
The greatest thing you’ll ever learn Is just to love and be loved in return —eden ahbez