Tabitha

I have recently lost someone near and dear to me, and now I feel that my time is quickly approaching as well. Her name was Tabitha, named after the arrangement of her fur color. That's right... Tabitha was a cat. She and I were inseparable. Me, being a single man in my early twenties in a rather small apartment, found solace in my feline companion. When I wasn't at work, I would be at home providing her infinite amounts of affections. I admit, perhaps I spoiled her a bit too much for her own good. However, I didn't think anything bad would come of it.

Within the past month I had been noticing that she was acting a bit...different. She appeared sluggish, lazy, and disgruntled. She had no energy to play, and just spent her time lying on her cushion that served as her bed. I grew worried, was something bad happening to her that I wasn't aware of? I took her to the vet and I was informed that the main source of her weird behavior was her weight. She was eight pounds heavier than a typically healthy cat her age should have weighed. The vet scolded me for allowing Tabitha to grow to such an unhealthy size and advised me to cut back on feeding portions until I saw a decrease in weight.

Now, Tabitha's longevity was very important to me. She was as close to me as most people are close to their parents or offspring, and losing her would be just as devastating. As a result, I went through with the vet's plan to cut back on her feeding portions. Instead of giving her three full meals a day, I only gave her one meal. And it was small--barely enough to appease a mouse's cravings.

One day during the next few weeks I began noticing immense weight loss in Tabitha. This pleased me greatly. As a walked into the kitchen to refill her food bowl, I noticed that she hadn't eaten the meal from the day previous. Nervous, I began to fill the bowl over the top. I saw Tabitha walk into the kitchen and glare at me, and then the bowl, and then me again. She then let out a horrifying "MEOW!" whose pitch I could only compare to nails scraping a chalkboard. Then... she walked away. There was something about her, something that I can't believe I didn't realize sooner. I saw the outline of her rib cage through her fur.

I retrieved Tabitha and carried her to her bowl, tears escaping my eyes. She didn't even give the bowl the time of day and simply walked away. "She's going to eat sooner or later, she has to..." I thought. But she didn't. The following day I checked her food bowl, and not a single item was misplaced. I went to look for Tabitha to try to get her to eat again. I found her in the living room sleeping. I went to pick her up when suddenly my blood froze. She wasn't sleeping... She was dead. Dead from starvation. I apologized profusely for ever putting her on that stupid diet plan. In hindsight, however, I guess I did make quite a drastically unnecessary change.

I grabbed a shovel from my garage and carried Tabitha to our backyard. I dug a hole and gently placed her inside, tears now blurring my vision. Later that night while I was sleeping, I heard a faint mew coming from distance, followed by a desperate scratching on my door. I got out of bed and opened the door. There was nothing there. I searched the house to see if anything was there but I didn't find anything. As I walked back to my room, I noticed scratch marks on the wood of my bedroom door. I'm not gonna lie, this freaked the hell out of me. Cautiously proceeding into my room, I laid in my bed and went to sleep.

The next morning I arose from my slumber and went downstairs to grab some breakfast. I obtained the usual box of Cheerios from the kitchen cabinet along with some milk. I poured a bowl of cereal, grabbed my spoon, and sat down. As I dumped the first spoonful into my mouth, something odd happened. I didn't taste anything. There was nothing in my mouth. Confused, I stared at the spoon and then at the bowl of cereal. I drowsily shook it off, assuming I must've accidentally dropped the first spoonful back into the bowl. I scooped up a second spoonful of cereal and put it into my mouth. Again, nothing. Nothing to chew, to taste, to observe. My heart began pounding rapidly, my body grew warmer. I was terrified. I ran over to the counter and grabbed a pastry and took a bite. The moment my teeth broke off a piece of the crisp, warm pastry, it vanished. I took another bite and that, too, disappeared without a trace. I screamed and ran out of the room, dropping the remains of the pastry at my feet.

It has now been five days since the last time I have tasted food or water. I have grown very sickly and thin. I still try to eat everyday, keeping hope alive that this will all blow over soon and that I will regain my ability to eat once more. Sadly, I don't think that's ever going to happen again. Every night I hear the same faint mew and the amount of scratches on the outside of my bedroom door increase. I don't have much more time left. Lying on my deathbed, I can feel all sense of the world around me slowly fading away. As my vision finally fades, I feel a heaviness on my chest. I look up only to make out a very well-fed Tabitha smiling back down at me.