In Memory of Polar

On Remembrance Day evening our 5-year old cat, Polar, breathed his last. He was young, muscular, energetic and healthy. Little did we know he suffered from a congenital heart defect and suddenly had a massive stroke, rendering him paralyzed and in pain. We rushed him to the vet emergency clinic but this cardiomyopathy with saddle thrombosis in cats is always fatal when it is that serious.

The thing is, I never really liked this cat. I rescued him from someone who couldn't keep him in their new apartment, but I never warmed up to him much. I sort of respected and admired him instead, cuz he was what I'd call a real cat. Meaning - he didn't have a master, he had staff. He didn't generally like cuddling or forms of sucking up. Sometimes he would come over and stand on your chest and purr but it was always on his own terms. If you tried to pick him up he'd growl and hiss and then fly into a claw-wielding fiery spin.

The neighbours liked Polar. We don't let our other cat out of the house, but Polar meowed at the door for A YEAR so we finally relented. He ran around the neighbourhood, up on people's rooves, and in their garages. He rubbed up against everyone's legs. When our neighbours, who've never had a pet in their lives, went to India for 3 weeks Polar ran right in their house when they returned. As if to say "HI! Whereveyabeen?"

I was reflecting on Polar's sudden demise as I walked along the dike by the sea this morning. Life is so fragile, isn't it? One moment he was as healthy as a robust horse, the next minute he was completely incapacitated and within one hour he was gone from this earth forever. An Aboriginal Canadian elder once said to me, "if you live your life rightly, any day is a good day to die."

I wish I had liked Polar more. I wish I'd enjoyed his personality, and given him more opportunities to crawl up on my chest and purr. I wish I'd talked more to him, played with him with a ball or a piece of yarn. I wish I'd told him more often he was a good cat, and given his head a little pat once in a while.

All I can do today is grieve the loss...of this silly animal I allowed myself to get attached to. Grieving is a good thing. It is a sweet sadness. And I can remember to thank him. Thank you, Polar, for teaching me to live rightly every day.



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