Of course you’d remember him with endearment, affection, and so much longing. You fed him when he was younger. You stroked his fur despite the wounds and scabs. You let him annoy you inside and outside your home to the point that you even let him in your home. Your mother had even made him sleep overnight inside the house before he died. Despite your mother’s whinnying and your silent affection for the four-legged feline, you both loved him as much as you love your now-pet cat, Miming.
On Garfield’s last day, your mother said, he could have just been waiting for both of you to get home before he breathed his last. He had been weak and limp and he refused to move from under the cabinet. You had offered him a soaked piece of cotton for drinking and some cat treats; but, he didn’t have the energy to even reach out for those comforts anymore. It had been his time.
Still, it came as a shock when you saw his head fall back as your aunt carried him like an infant in her arms, to box and to throw his body away.
(writing practice inspired by unphotographable.com)