He is dead. Mr. Zen is dead.

He wanted to go outside. So did Short Round. Mom let Mr. Zen out, I stopped her from letting Mr. Round go out because he never comes back in when he's called.

I went to bed. I was so cold and couldn't sleep. I thought, "Maybe I should see if Zen wants in... nah, it's not too bad outside, he'll be alright."

I woke up the next morning, Wednesday. Mom was calling Zen. He didn't come. Around 3:00, she said, "He's gone." He didn't come.

I looked in the barn... the big red barn where so many kittens have played. I couldn't call him very loudly, I felt like I was sneaking around. I felt guilty that I hadn't started looking for him sooner. I climbed the stairs to the loft and softly said his name through tears. He didn't come.

I sat on the steps and cried.

I walked towards the blacktop and looked down the road. He was not there. I started walking west. I had gone nearly a quarter mile and couldn't decide if I should keep going or turn around in the other direction.

He was there.

In the ditch, in the dirty water clogged with dead grass. He was there.

I crumbled to my knees. His body was stretched out in a jump. He quiverd. He was there.

He was alive. He was so cold. I stroked him, his fur so cold, I told him to stay still. I ran back to the house and screamed for mom to get the truck. I ran back to him with towels. We loaded him in the truck and drove to the vet, expecting to hear that he should be put down immediately, not even knowing if he would survive the trip.

The vet put him on an IV drip, ran warm fluids through him and put him on a heating pad. Stayed with him off and on through the night... By the Friday morning he was warm and responsive, had movement, not much but some, in all limbs. We went back to the vet and petted and loved him... I played with his paws and he wrapped his toes around my finger. A soft purr. He wanted to stand, to come to us. We moved in closer. He kneaded my hands with his paws. Our vet referred us to a vet down in Columbia, the University animal hospital. We drove him 90 miles. I sat in the back of the car, rubbing his head and his paws, whispering to him. He was warm again... his eyes so green.

By the time the University vets had checked him out, he no longer had feeling in his hind quarters. It was a spinal injury. No broken legs, no blood, he looked so complete but he was broken. They wanted to know what we wanted to do... 5% chance that surgery might work, but they were not hopeful. I said, "Can we be with him when you put him down?" and we could.

They showed us to the grieving room. We cried. Mom was sitting across from me on the most hideous plastic-covered couch ever. We giggled about the couch, distracting ourselves from the pain for a few seconds. We waited and cried. They brought him in, a catheter in his leg, ready.

Oh Mr. Zen! So there and alive and already gone! Your big black paws and grey armpit hairs and big round ears and beautiful green eyes! Your fluffy belly and tail! I kissed you then, over and over. I put my face on your fluffy body, I rubbed your front paws like I used to always do.

Don't leave me! Not yet!

Oh Mr. Zen! You came to me when I couldn't sleep, you'd lay up by my pillow and nuzzle me. I'd put my forehead right against yours and you would purr until I started dreaming.

You met me as I got out of the car, rubbing against my legs and looking up at me with those huge round eyes.

You slept on my shoes.

You'd fall over like a fainting goat when I tapped you with my toes as I walked by.

You laid on your back with your paws pointing in all four directions, looking at me as if to say, "Man, this bed is comfy. Want to take a nap?" and sometimes I would.

You were never just a cat. You were... you are a big, fluffy marshmallow teddy bear god friend.

You never seemed so small before.

I kissed his paws, I smelled his warm fur. I played with his paws and kissed his head and ears.

I kissed your ears and told you I loved you. It will be summer tomorrow. I love you, Mr. Zen. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you it will be summer tomorrow.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

First the water, then the death.

It's summer now.

I pet you and played with your paws. I kissed your ears. I smelled your fur.

It's summer now, Mr. Zen. I love you.

The vets took him and removed the needle from his leg, they wrapped him in the comforter off mom's bed that we brought him in on. I took the bundle and we left, the lady vet placed her hand on my back as I walked out.

We put him in the back seat of the car, where just an hour or so ago I was whispering to him, alive and green eyes still looking at me.

The drive home took forever. As soon as I could see the farm from the road, I started to cry harder. I'd been crying since I found him, but now he was home.

You're home, Mr. Zen. You're home. You're home now.

I got the bundle from the back of the car and took him in on Mom's bed. I saw her go get the shovel from the barn.

I rocked him on the bed. You're home. You're home you're home you're home you're home.

I took him into my room, where he would lay all sprawled out on my bed. I unwrapped him from the comforter. He was still warm.

I laid with you, Mr. Zen. Just like we used to. I put my head against yours. I played with your paws, your big fluffy paws with the grey hairs that stick out between your black toes. So round, so big and strong.

Stay here, I'll get the brush.

When I walked back in the room, it looked like he was just taking a nap on my bed. I let myself believe it for a moment, then laid down beside him and brushed his fur, removed the wrap from his leg where the needle was. I wish they didn't have to shave his leg.

I stayed there a long time. I soaked in his smell, his feel.

I kissed him, over and over.

I love you, Zen. So good, such a good cat.

I kissed your paws, your ears, your head. Mom got a paper bag and I found a toy mouse, two of your most favorite things. You never met a paper bag that you didn't like, even if it was way too little for you to get in. You still tried. Sometimes you'd have two paws and your head in a bag and it was still perfectly ok by you.

I wrapped him in my favorite t-shirt, the one with Bill the Cat that says, "Most of life's problems can be solved with a chainsaw." Then in mom's old deputy t-shirt, the one she wore so many times, was wearing when she got off duty and he would meet her as she drove in from the end of her shift.

We took you out under the weeping willow. You loved that tree. In the summer, when the limbs would trail the ground, you'd roll over and play with them... in the sunshine, in the green grass. We put in your paper bag, laid you on top. It'll be there if you want it. We tucked the mouse in with you.

Mom poured in the first bucket of earth, I the second. I covered his head. The dirt was so wet, mud, that we had to get dry soil from the silver barn. Good dirt, black dirt. Then, with our hands, we scooped up the dug-out mud and packed it in around him. It was so cold. My hands ached. Finally, we put the sod back on top. We lit a candle and put it on top of his grave. We didn't want him to be alone in the dark.

With our own hands, we buried you. It hurt so much, the cold mud. It hurt my hands like my heart was hurting.

We took out more candles as the first one burned down. They burned through the night, and as I tossed sleepless on my bed, I could see the light through my window.

I'm here, Mr. Zen. I rolled over, turning my back to him. He always liked to sleep behind my knees.

Today has been hard. I see him everywhere.

A sick grey and white cat was outside by one of the old grain bins. It couldn't move. Mr. Zen used to chase him. I wonder if maybe Mr. Zen was chasing him from the house when he was hit.

The grey and white cat's eyes were matted shut, he couldn't breath. Mom put him out of his misery. I got wood and built a funeral pyre for him.

I found a good stick and called Mr. Round and Sniper. We played by Mr. Zen. I left the stick there, for him, just in case.

This summer, I'll plant catnip by the weeping willow. I'll look out a window and see our other cats playing by the tree.

I bought a locket, a special one with peridot, green peridot like his eyes. I'll put a bit of his fur in it. I'll wear it and know that part of him is with me, always.

Summer won't be here tomorrow, but it is summer for Mr. Zen today.

Sleep well, my kitten. Dream of birdies and grasshoppers and lazy days in the sunshine. Sleep well, my kitten, your work is done. Wait for me, if you will.

I love you, Mr. Zen.

I am so so sorry about your loss of Mr Zen; your story moved me to tears. It is so heartbreaking when one of our furbabies dies, & I'm sorry it was such a tragic accident. You did everything humanly possible to save him. it sounds like you buried him in a lovely spot - I buried my Winston in his favourite spot in my garden. He sounds like a wonderful cat, & he would have known how very much you loved him. And he will be at peace now, with his back fully mended, chasing butterflies at Rainbow bridge. You have found a wondeful site where we all know exactly how you feel. Come here as often as you need to. Do you have any photos of Mr Zen? That was a wonderful idea about the peridot locket. I'm so very sorry for your tragic loss. Thinking of you.
Love from Elsie

You poor thing. I cannot imagine the pain you must have after finding your furbaby like that. Zen had a wonderful person to love him. Your story must have been painful to write, but it was so beautifully done. As beautiful as Zen was.

Be strong, be well and know that he's always with you and that we're always here for you.

With love & sorrow,

Pat

I am so sorry for the loss of your Mr. Zen I felt like I was right there with you looking for him, finding him, rushing him to the vet. I was crying throughout your entire post as I read about your love for your baby. Hugs, Ann

What a sad, sad story.
I am so sorry for your loss.
Fran

I cried when I read your story. I am so sorry for your loss. What a beautiful tribute to a beautiful baby.

Caroline

I am so very sorry that you lost your precious green-eyed Mr. Zen. I sobbed aloud as I read your beautifully written story. Mr. Zen was so very lucky to have such a friend as you. Mr. Zen is home now, and I am sure he has met all of our little ones and is once again well and whole. You did everything in the world you could to save Mr. Zen, and I know he knows that. I am glad you got to spend a little more time with Mr. Zen. We understand the pain you are feeling -- they all go home way too soon. They all do.
Marcia

I am so sorry about Mr. Zen. Reading your story made me cry. I know how you feel. I would love to see picture of the green eyed Mr. Zen.

Nancy (Sasha's Mom)

Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm glad that I found this site. I've read many of your posts... It makes my heart grow to know that so many people out there love their "kids" as much as we (mom and I) love ours.

I have a few pictures of Mr. Zen and I will post them after I do a little computer mending... fried the last computer and need to do some salvage work.

I found him when I took Short Round to the vet to get his first shots. Mr. Round was just a little, scared kitten, wandering alone in town square. Mr. Zen was at the vet's, just a big ball of fur in a cage, on loan from the local shelter. He was irresistable...

He was black, his face, legs, paws and back so dark and sleek (and fluffy)... he had a grey furry belly, white armpit hairs. His face was very broad... he was a big cat to begin with. His eyes were huge and he always looked very perplexed. Makes me grin to think about his face.

This farm is something of a cat haven. I moved back in with mom after breaking up with my last fiance... my cats moved in with her before that, when I went to Europe. We lost Kitty Turbo to the road a couple of years ago, and that was hard. I was overseas at the time. We've lost others on the road as well.

There's way more traffic than there used to be. Still, we can't keep them locked in the house. They've all grown up outside, and then somehow managed to talk us into coming inside.

I try to remind myself that Mr. Zen wanted to go out, that he was doing exactly what he wanted to be doing at that time.

He was so beautiful. If I was in a bad mood, he'd stomp in the room, hop up beside me, look at me, then flop down and lean on me. That cat would lean on anything. You could catch him leaning on chair legs, walls, whatever. It was so funny! Sometimes he'd lean too far in one direction or the other and end up rolling over in a big furry ball, and not exactly on purpose, either. Sometimes he would pat me on the arm with his paw, then just leave his paw resting there, as if to say, "It's ok, I'm right here." And, then, everything was ok.

And I can't resist... there were an awful lot of times when Zencat looked at me like this:

Most cats have a favorite person... every person was Mr. Zen's favorite. Mom and I were special to him, but he was never afraid of anyone. We had tons of home renovation going on last summer, complete with noisy construction, and Mr. Zen would just wander through, say hi to everybody, lean on random workers, then go fall asleep in their trucks.

What a good cat.

We decided not to leave a candle out tonight. I guess he's found his way by now, wherever he's going.

The house seems so empty, even with the other eight kitties running (or sleeping or eating) around. Short Round, Persimmon, Mr. Bonk (my three), Kilroy, Ewok, Capuchin, Sniper, and Pook (mom's). I can see a little piece of Zen in each one.

I know, in time, peace will come. It won't seem empty, we'll be going nuts because there is a cat in -every-single-chair- outside. You know, half the time we'll sit on the ground instead of moving the sleeping cats.

Mom has decided that we'll put a flower garden out by the willow... so not only will Mr. Zen have catnip, he'll have flowers all around him. He'll love the fact that mom is out there gardening with him. He always liked to lay on whatever flower or hosta that mom was examining.

I so don't want him to be gone. And now the tears are coming again. Who's going to do yoga with me if Mr. Zen is not around? He was so much better at it than I was.

I don't ever want to forget his beautiful face.

What a heart breaking story! I am SO sorry that you had to help Mr. Zen end his suffering. You and your mother certainly did evrything possible to try and save him. As the others said, I cried when I read your story too. You tell about his life and that last terrible day with such detailed words that we have all relived it with you! You can express yourself SO well in words! Along with your precious gift to love, you are blessed with writing skills that I envy.

You gave Mr. Zen such a woderful life. You're right too, that he was used to being outside and you couldn't "cage" him inside all the time, or he would have lived a miserable life. He lived his life the way he was happiest.

We live in the country too, and my neighbor just left us a message yesterday that she was looking for their black cat and wondered if he was hanging out in our yard. Unfortunately, I haven't seen him, and it breaks my heart that he's missing. It makes me think of your touching story and the hours you spent looking for your missing furkitty.

We have picked up alot of traffic in our area too. Over time, many more people haved started moving closer to the country. I used to let my dogs run free in our yard (and our house sits way back from the road), but with the increase in traffic on our little back road, we have put up a fence now. We have Amish living all around us, and they have started running into problems too. It just breaks my heart to read in the local paper about accidents where a car has collided with a slow moving horse-drawn Amish buggy.

I started rambling, I'm sorry. But I just want you to know that my heart breaks for you and your mother. Living in the country can be so beautiful and furbabies can usually run free, like their spirits, without problems. However, as the areas get more populated, it risks their safety.

Cheri

I wept as I read Mr. Zen's story. I'm so very sorry for your loss.
Kathleen

PS - I also read your thoughts on heaven...very interesting...very, very interesting.

you have a gift, you right so beautifully. i was in tears as i read your post. i'm truly sorry to hear about your loss of zen. it sounds like you and your mother are wonderful parents to all of the cats in your lives, sitting on the ground as not to move the sleeping cats. thank you so much for sharing your story with us. my thoughts are with you, ah

Your beautiful writing has me in tears. I am so sorry for your loss. Mr. Zen was blessed to have you in his life. And, yes, it is summer for Mr. Zen - summer always.

Dee Dee

If it wasn't for sugar, I'd have starved to death by now. All I can eat is sweets.

This is so freaking hard!!! I stayed in bed most of the day with the other cats... Mr. Bonk got under the covers and snuggled with me, Piglet (Pook) layed behind my knees. At one point I felt a paw reach out and tap my leg... not knowing that Kilroy was down by my feet. For a split second, I thought it was Zen.

I'm so mad now. I want to take fistfulls of nails and throw them in the road. I want to scream at the local vet for tossing Mr. Zen around, trying to make him stand.

How stupid is that? Injured cat, can barely move his hind legs, and they go and pick him up and waller him around?

Somebody help me get some perspective on this, please. I'm losing it.

I know how hard it is to lose a faithful friend with such unconditional love. Mr Zen was a very special little guy.

Your vet was trying to see the extent of Zens injuries. I am sure the Dr. was trying to save Zens life. It may have seemed cruel at the time, but it was probably the only way he could determine how severe the injuries were.

Zen is now in a place where the innocence of a animal is not taken by the wheels of our man made inventions.. Be at peace

Kim