Hello Samuel,
It’s me, Ash — your kitty brother. A while ago I asked dad if I could take over note-writing for a day. He was a little hesitant, but I reminded him that I’d probably be leaving soon and that May 24th was my birthday (did you know that?), so he granted me this wish.
I remember the first time I saw you. You hadn’t been home more than a few hours when your mother had you up on the white spinny machines to take off your litter box (by the way, why do you humans walk around wearing litterboxes?). I’d been shooshed out of the room at first, but I knew I had to see for myself what all the fuss was about.
It was the most wonderful thing I could have imagined! All pink and wrinkly and just oozing with delight. I dove head-first (heedless of mom’s gasps) and gave you the biggest, warmest, softest head-butt I could muster. And you gave me such love in return. Even when you couldn’t do more than drool, you made me so happy.
One of the best moments of my life was your first word. Not “daddy,” not “mommy,” not “candy” or “milk” or even “no.” Certainly not “flibbertigibbet!” I was down on the floor with you giving you rubs and purrs when you looked me straight in the eye, smiled, and said “kitty.” It was so clear. I was the first person you spoke to. I tell you, mom and dad were pretty excited but that was nothing compared to how proud and wonderful I felt that day. What a moment!
We’ve had some great times, you and I. Your first attempts at playing with me were a bit difficult — you sort of just chased me around and stuffed a feather in my face. But you learned to play; we learned to play together.
Yeah, such great times we had, so many cherished memories. Like hugs. Neither Teal’c nor Flo’Lrrr liked hugs. Your father would raise a fuss. But you never hugged too hard for me, and I loved every single one of them. That was something special that only you and I shared.
You’ve grown so much! I’m glad you got big enough so that I could finally fit fully on your lap. It was a bit bony and lumpy and rickety at first, but I didn’t care; I got to take a snooze in the best place I could imagine. And yeah, most nights I went into either mommy or daddy’s blanket tunnel to sleep. But boy did I treasure those times when they let me snuggle up next to you.
Speaking of growing big enough, I really want to thank you for taking care of the boxes with dad. I know it wasn’t fun, and so I appreciate that you held your nose and helped out. That was nice and all, but it was more than that: First, did you know that until you started helping, dad never cleaned the litter boxes so often or so regularly? (There’s a secret for you: you know grown-ups don’t like doing chores either, but did you know that they sometimes skip them?) Until you started helping out, sometimes the boxes would get all icky and uncomfortable. And second, what I’m really grateful for was that you took the time to make sure the litter in every new box was carefully massaged and set up just right. It always felt so good on my paws.
And speaking of things that people (and kittens) don’t really like to do, I want to apologize for all those times I peed in your room. Especially for peeing in headquarters and making the entire box smell. And on your bed. And the blankets. And on the Daddy Station. And on your toys. And on your clothes. And on … oh geeze, I’m sorry that I got so carried away. I hope you’ll forgive me.
And yeah, about getting carried away. I’m very old now (pets age so much faster than people) and it’s my time. I love you Samuel, and I had a much happier life because of you.
I am leaving, but I will never be truly gone. Whenever you think you see me out of the corner of your eye or think you hear me, the will-o’-the-wisp may disappear but I’ll be in your heart.
You will never, ever take a hot shower without thinking of me and knowing that I’ll be in your heart.
It will never be just “whipped cream,” or “dessert topping.” It will always be “Ash’s Treat.” When you’re in your 20s your friends will give you funny looks for calling it that. You will call it that to your children, and you will call it that to your bewildered grandchildren. It doesn’t matter. When you’re 90 you will still call it Ash’s Treat, and whenever your have it you will think of me and I’ll be in your heart.
And no matter how much time passes, no matter who else comes to join the family, no matter if you’re 50 living in the city with nine pets of your own, whenever you leave the house there will be times when you want to call out “Ash is in charge!” I’ll be with you then.
I’ll be with you in silliness, whenever something rhymes with pizdashik (and even when they don’t).
We were — and always will be — mommy’s curly blue-eyed boys. When the light is just right, the colour of your eyes will reflect mine.
I will always be in your heart.
I love you.
Ash
(signed with a paw print)
