Saturday, February 6, 2010

Pedro, dead.

My cat died. In a motor vehicle accident. Found it on the road while I was driving on the way to Serdang. Saw the cat's tail, and my heart beat faster. It seemed awfully familiar. I stopped the car, and checked. The collar was definitely the one I chose for it. It was lying in a pool of blood. My cat's blood.

Oh my God. How my heart stopped beating at that point of time. I was out in the middle of the road, my car parked at the side, and there were cars driving through the road. I didn't care.

My cat died! MY CAT DIED!

I still couldn't believe it. I felt that I couldn't breathe.

I carried my cat, and blood was on my hands. My cat's blood. Pedro's blood.

And he was so young. Only a year plus.

Damn it! He felt so furry, yet so weak at the same time. Most of all, he felt lifeless. I took out my handphone, and dialled my father's number.

Because although, he was my cat, he was closer to my dad. With my dad staying at home all day and all (he's a pensioner), and Pedro was always there watching all those Indonesian drama with my dad. They were pals. That's it. WERE. Past tense. Because Pedro's gone.

My dad walked towards the cat. He had this blunted affect on his face.

I took out a sack to carry Pedro home.

We had to bury him. At least, that's the last thing I could do for him. I couldn't even protect him.

I reached home, my dad holding Pedro in his arms in the passenger's seat.

My mother opened the door, rushing to see with her own eyes, to confirm, in deed, it was my cat, OUR CAT, which had died.

She gasped. Her voice changed. She then said "Your brother is not here, maybe you should take a few pictures, his last pics to show to your brother how Pedro looked like."

My tears started falling at that point. I always took pictures of my cats. They are my models that I don't have to pay. But to take a picture of my cat, dead?? It looked as though it was sleeping.

My dad started digging a hole. My mom watched over the hole. I kept on crying and crying.

But I still had to drive to Serdang that night. I had classes to attend.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept on thinking about Pedro. How I first laid eyes on him when my brother brought him home in a box. His eyes staring at me. Those pretty, pretty blue eyes. How it curled on my bed when I took it's picture. How it's bell sounded when it was running to get it's food. I couldn't sleep! It was almost 3am. Finally I fell asleep, but I woke up at 5am. I knew I looked terrible, but life must go on right?

It was hard. The minute I woke up, my mind zoomed to my lost. Pedro.

And the worst part is? I don't even remember how Pedro's voice sounded like. T_T

*this happened 2 weeks ago, but I only had the courage to tell about it today, still having my eyes watery though, but I guess it's one of the first steps to let go. I'm trying to get out of the denial stage of the stages of grief.

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