• View
• Edit
• History
• Talk?
• Print

Content warning: Pet Death

In the fall of 2016, my family experienced an unspecified tragedy, one totally unrelated to a different tragedy the world faced that fall. We called our personal one “Omega” because it represented the end of an era for our family. Time has a nasty habit of carrying on despite tragedy, so every ending must always be followed by a new beginning.

It was a new beginning, too. New job, new place, I even started listening to some new podcasts. We were learning about our new scars and slowly healing. Then my partner saw a listing at the local SPCA.

The first hint of something new.

A cat. Named Omega. I tried to object, I tried to argue it was too soon to open our hearts up like this, but to no avail. The stars had aligned and our Omega could be more than a sad punctuation at the end of a chapter, now Omega could be the start of a whole new chapter for us.

Omega Kitty, as he came to be known, was a black cat with low white spotting, AKA a “tuxedo cat.” It was a style he wore well, he remained a dapper gentleman his whole life. He was not what I would call a friendly cat, but nor was he mean. He was his own cat, and decided on a case by case basis if you were worth befriending. Eventually we found the common language of chin scratches. If you were worthy he would come sit next to you, barely touching. This was his rarest and purest expression of affection, one given only to a very select few.

He was like this from the very start.

Omega Kitty was a patroller and an explorer. He liked finding holes and cracks to crawl into and was often seen perched high to overlook an area. Railings, upper bunk beds, shelves, drawers, sinks, cabinets, closets, all were his domain. On one section of wall in our high-ceilinged living room we built a cat tree, shelves, and a rope bridge. Omega was the only cat that consistently liked to climb up there and use it. He had a habit of perching on a ledge with his little paws hanging over the edge.

Over the years, Omega Kitty came to share the house with others. In spring of 2018 our friend gave us their cat, who also happened to be a tuxedo cat. This cat became Alpha Kitty and established a weird sort of tradition for our family. Kappa Kitty arrived in fall of 2019 and Delta Kitty managed to sneak in thanks to Covid in late spring 2020. They were all tuxedo cats and Omega Kitty did not care for any of them. Looking back on our pictures you’d think they liked each other given how often they’re shown sitting next to each other, but that’s just because it was a rare sight to see them peacefully near each other.

You may approach and scritch.

Omega was smaller than Alpha and Kappa and often got the worst of it in their fights, especially as the years wore on. He once got sliced pretty badly on his back leg, and sported a nick in his right ear for his last few years. As far as I could tell he was instigator as often as he was victim. He never lost his fighting spirit.

As 2025 wore on, he seemed to be struggling more and more. He had sores between his shoulderblades, he was struggling to keep down food, and sometimes seemed to have trouble breathing. We took him to the vet, who commented on his breathing but found nothing amiss. He was given a rabies shot and a flea treatment but was otherwise sent home with a clean bill of heath. His body disagreed with this assessment. He continued to get worse. In his youth he rarely stayed in the same place for long but now would spend all day in one spot, often hiding in a closet.

At the start of October his health took an abrupt dive. We took him to the emergency vet after a scary incident, and after a day of observation they gave their diagnosis: heart failure. He was put on an assortment of pills, blood thinners and diuretics to lift the strain on his ailing heart. A cardiologist vet and a sonogram shed more light on his situation: His heart had a defect: an extra flap of tissue that split his atrium in two, making each heartbeat a bit harder than it should have been. It was a burden he carried since birth, but one he carried well until it finally became too much to bear.

My partner led the charge on administering his medicine, I am grateful for their diligence. Many pills had to be chopped into halves and quarters to be suitable for his tiny frame, and for two weeks they clashed over getting them down his gullet. It was no use. His little lungs were steadily filling up with fluid, which often came out violently. He was not improving, and rarely strayed from a spot near my partner, or on the edge of the couch. It was not the life he deserved to have, spending all of his fighting spirit just trying to slow a downward slide. We made the difficult decision to give him a peaceful exit.

He left this world at peace, surrounded by his chosen people, receiving the chin scratches he loved so much. I don’t have to hope he knew how much he meant to us, he knew. He was a companion and a bridge between two important parts of my life. He was an honest cat. He will be missed.

Omega Kitty

2016 - 2025

Not Funny