My dearly departed cat
And various ways he snuck into my art over the years
A few weeks ago our 17-year-old cat Dennis passed away under our bed while we were on vacation in Encinitas. He had been losing weight, despite having taken steroids for several months, and recently was starting to walk funny. Signs were certainly there in retrospect. Still, nothing prepared us for getting the call from our cat sitter giving us the terrible news.
I’ve since learned that it’s very common for sick cats to die when their people aren’t around—not because they miss them, but because they prefer to be alone at the end. Maybe it’s a courtesy, a way of saying, “look, after everything we’ve been through, you don’t need to see this, okay?” And God knows we were spared a lot of anguish; finding Dennis ourselves, or having to take him to the vet one final time. He likely passed away in his sleep, too, which all of us should be so lucky to do.
Dennis was a little ball of feelings; his default state was one of concern. His (non biological) brother is an orange maine coon mix named Emerson, who was always a chill yin to Dennis’ decidedly non-chill yang. Now that he’s gone, we notice how much he ran the household. It was Dennis who woke us up in the morning, and then, once sated with cat food, would cuddle under my arm as I dicked around on my phone in bed, insisting that whatever else I had to do could certainly wait. One of my favorite sensations was his little cat body plopping contently into my side, after he found a perfect nesting spot.
I wasn’t a cat person until Dennis, either. I liked cats fine, and I was so taken with all the men I knew who seemed really into their cats that I once made a little mini comic called The Bachelor Cat. It was Dennis, with his big eyes and plaintive little face, who turned me into complete goo.
Dennis’ personality was largely projection, of course, but we could often land on assumptions that just felt right. Dennis, having been rescued from an alley as a kitten, was more than happy to remain inside the rest of his life. When the front door was open, instead of attempting to flee like Emerson would sometimes do, Dennis never wanted to leave the house. During the 2020 primaries, we knew that Dennis, with his need for safety and security would be a Biden voter; Emerson, independent spirit that he was, would be for Andrew Yang.
The beach town of Encinitas is home to Dave’s Rock Garden, a beautiful, meditative oasis where people can paint rocks with supplies left out by the owner. It’s steps away from the ocean, which glistened in the LA sunshine the days we were there. All we could talk about was how much Dennis would have hated it here—so much water and open space! We made him a rock anyhow.
We are all projections so I do believe they have their personality. Loved this!
Lovely tribute to Dennis..."The Bachelor Cat" is funny!