My cat for the past 11 years, Hubcap, died last night at the Animal Clinic in Ridgewood. I don't know how old he was, but estimates put him around 15, so kidney failure is not perhaps that much of a surprise. I guess I'm glad I took him to the vet, but I wish that hadn't been his last stop.
I don't know what time he died exactly, but I woke up abruptly at 2:40 this morning to the sounds of plastic rustling: it was the sound of cat paws touching a bag of cat food. Every time I brought home a new bag, Hubcap would immediately start pawing at it, trying to get at what surely was superior food to what he already had in his bowl. He did it every time.
Of course, the sound was probably just one of the other cats rubbing up on the bag of Tidy Cat I left on the kitchen table (a souvenir from the kittens), but I like believing it was Hubcap, doing what he loved most: eating and annoying the hell out of me.
Maybe we'll be haunted by his ghost.
