02: Zombie

Everything here is mine. My own books, my own dishes, my pets. There is nobody here to say to me that "No, that's mine." or "Is nothing sacred to you?" Growing up, I was perhaps given too much freedom when it came to objects. Not once did a parent or sibling object to me watching a movie that was theirs or using a tool. We all chipped in spare change to cash out for going out for dinner. We all shared books, coupons, food. So when it came to being married, I overstepped his boundaries when it came to eating his food, reading his books or cashing in his change jar for our household use.

When we adopted Zombie, it was after it was revealed that he had begun an affair with a friend of his. I had always wanted another cat, and lamely joked that while some women get diamonds all I wanted was a kitten. We went to the pet store and fell in love with the first little kitty we saw. 

He said that this kitten had chose him, and he was so enraptured with the little thing that it melted my heart. I called every day to check up on the adoption process, and left work early to run to the shelter and pick him up. When I cried, Zombie would snuggle up to me and lick my tears away purring. He crawled up my body at night and snuggled in my arms, his purring sending me to sleep. I had marks on my neck from where he would nurse.

If we closed the door, he would cry and cry until we let him in. He would then run to my side and sleep in my arms while he glared. "Traitor." He would say, or would scoop the little monster up to snuggle. Zombie always came back to me, and later on in the night I would find him sleeping on my head or just above it on the pillow.

I miss that cat so much. I wanted desperately to take him with me when I left. My little ray of sunshine, my little monster. He told me that this was HIS cat, and refused my request. I just couldn't do it. Every time Suzanne or my family asked me why I just didn't take him it was always the same response. He said no, and I couldn't bear separating him from his pet. When I moved out of our apartment he cried and cried, beating at the door and breaking my heart.

I spent a good half an hour with him alone that day, holding him and crying. Even now, remembering this I am tearing up. My parents were waiting outside, the moving van loaded. It was like this little cat, whom I had shared a mere six months with was a symbol of what I was leaving behind.

That is all for today. Thank you for listening.