Sigh for Syd, Part 2

it's is especially hard to deal with a pet's death because they depend on us to take care of them. they look at us with their eyes full of trust and love. for one to be sick or dying is especially difficult. it's like it's our fault and we hold the key to releasing them from their pain.

he trusts me. i am his best friend. he follows me everywhere. we communicate. he understands not just "no" or "food" but "look syd, (A)'s here. go say hi to her." he is the ultimate seat stealer but if i'm really tired and i don't have the energy to fight him for my seat, i can say breathlessly, "please syd. give me my seat back." and he'll move (note: this only works if i sound very tired/sad/sick. otherwise he plays hardball.)

if syd were a human he would be a gay bear. he's big and furry and loves boys. he plays hardball, but he's a pussy at heart. he used to bully the yeti about. he would hide and jump out at her, or sit up way high above her and swipe at her bent tail as she as she, all blind and deaf, would go flitting through the room cluelessly.

since she died, he has stopped pigging out. he has been different. this is syd, all sad from missing the "other" cat who previously stole attention from him.

when my friend (D) comes over he says, "how's my big black negro?" in a "sensitive" voice. it's hilarious considering syd's vicious demeanor. in fact, that's why i named him syd. because he's always been a biter.

he can't jump up on the counter anymore, to accompany me as i get ready in the morning the way he did for years. he does however, still fetch q-tips if i remember to throw them. fetching. that's right. he is very special.

we've lived together 11 years. i got him to help me get over a bad relationship and some consequent trauma. he has never let me down. i would want to die if i felt i let him down.