Laughter and Tears

On Monday, Jasper Bleu went in for his first vet appointment. He was a beast, albeit a little one, in the car. When we took Merlin in, we brought him in a hard-sided carry case. Teach couldn’t handle bringing the empty case home so we left it at the vet’s and asked them to find a use for it. We have not replaced the hard-sided case yet so all I had to take Jasper in was a soft sided case that was entirely to0 huge for him. He started wailing the minute I put him in – he has this high-pitched, squeaky-toy sounding meow, which gets more and more plaintive as time goes on. He wailed for almost the entire 20 minute drive to the vet’s. The only time he wasn’t crying was when he busted out of the case, like the alien bursting from Kane’s chest, and started climbing all over me. That was fun.

When the vet finally saw him she said he appeared healthy (yea!) and that she’s pretty sure he’s going to be a big cat. Turns out he’s not as little as I thought. He’s already 3 pounds at 2 months old. According to the vet, he shouldn’t be 3 pounds until he’s 4 months old. Plus, he has long legs. (Teach had considered the name “Thumper”, which I would have gone along with but he neglected to mention it to me during the day and a half the kitten had no name). His back legs are comical. When he’s hugging a toy and kicking at it with his hind paws, he has to be careful or he ends up boxing himself in the ears.

On Monday, I also picked up Merlin’s ashes. I figured, since I was there, I’d go ahead and get him, take him home, and put him someplace inconspicuous until I was able to get the ceramic cat urn I was able to get. Too bad it didn’t play out that way. I got the cremains (what a terrible word) and nearly started crying right there. They were in a nice paper bag with the animal cemetery’s logo on it and a label with my name and then “Pet name: Merlin”.

Sob.

On the way home, Jasper was unrelenting in his wailing. He really started to grate on my nerves and then, when I got home, I couldn’t figure out where to put Merlin. Jasper was crying, Teach was grilling me about the vet visit, and I was standing in the middle of the room, still wearing my coat, holding this little paper bag with Merlin’s ashes. I tried to put the bag in the closet where Teach couldn’t see it, but I couldn’t get the top of the bag to fold down, and I couldn’t get it to stay on the shelf and Jasper kept crying and Teach kept talking and finally I lost it. I ripped open the bag, took out this horrid floral tin box and just stood there heaving. Teach asked what was wrong and I somehow got out “I brought Merlin home.”

Teach took the box from me and sat down. I begged him not to open it but he told me he had to see. So he opened the box, this tiny, horrid floral tin box, and there, sealed in a baggy, were Merlin’s remains. Teach lost it; completely lost it. “Now you’re never coming home!” he cried. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I looked at him for a few moments, my tears drying almost instantly, because I can’t grieve when he grieves. My nurturing nature kicks in and any resemblance of personal feelings flee. Usually. This time, after stroking his head for a moment, I realize I can’t take it any more. I can’t take hearing him sob anymore. I can’t take feeling like this anymore. I can’t take realizing Merlin is Never. Coming. Home.

I grab the box, put the top back on and hug it to my chest. I start pacing and start repeating “Stop it, Teach. Stop it.” Over and over again until he finally stops. I take the bag, replace the horrid floral tin box and put everything in my closet, where Merlin always liked to go. Then I find Jasper (who was hiding from the loud noises) and gave him to Teach.

Not a replacement. Never a replacement. Just a small creature that needs Teach’s immediate attention. Jasper has accomplished what Van Gogh, Merlin and Isabella have been unable to do – pull Teach out of himself.

We mourn Merlin. We will always mourn Merlin. We talk about Merlin and how we will always mourn him. We talk about how if we think too much about him; the pain of not having him is almost unbearable.

Jasper will never replace Merlin. But Jasper is who Teach needs now – a small, loveable, furry creature that will snuggle in his lap and purr loudly, proclaiming to all that he’s found a home. And it is good.