A Sad Reminder

On our morning walk through the neighborhood, Aiston and I strolled through the little park. A LOST poster caught my attention. It was ours.

The poster took me back to the day three weeks ago when I went into work and one of my students bluntly asked me, "What's wrong with your face!?"

What was wrong with my face was that it was red and puffy from crying. Sadness will do that.

One of our cats went missing. Just disappeared. So unlike him. In fact, so out of character for him that I can't believe it has happened. We had thought it would only be a matter of time before one of the three ventured off, but we never thought it would be Bola.

One Tuesday, we came back from work and were not greeted by the affectionate heavyweight whose name means "Bubble" in Tagalog for his poochy belly. We thought it was odd, but didn't think too much more about it until a couple of hours later. Bola ALWAYS came in to greet us. He ALWAYS came in for food. And he ALWAYS needed help getting over the baby gate upstairs so he could watch as we bathed Aiston and got him ready for bed. Not that Tuesday.

Cory and I knew something was wrong. We went out looking for him for several days in a row. Delia asked all the neighbors. We hung posters. We checked with the security guards. Not a trace.

And that's when the mind does horrible things. It starts thinking of all the unhealthy possibilities. Where could he have gone? What could have happened to him? Why did he leave? Did someone snatch him? After all, it's not often that you see a brilliant white, healthy domestic cat walking around the neighborhood. But our hopes were dashed because most people here don't give a second thought about cats. And who can blame them when their country is full of people living in sheer poverty? Who cares about a cat when there are thousands of stray ones meandering the streets?

We do.

It's hard to lose any member of your family, human or animal. Bola was not just a cat to us. He had such a distinctly funny and clumsy personality. We loved him incredibly. So much so that he had countless nicknames. Among them were: Bols, the Fat Cat, Bolster, Toilet Bola, Heavyweight, Purr Factory and Love Bug.

Bola was the nice one, the cuddler, the one who needed the most affection. He was sweet and could handle Aiston's hard pats. He was clever, but not in the street smarts sort of way. He'd always try to do things the more efficient way, so as not to expend too much energy. Like laying down in front of his water bowl to drink and wash his paws. Bola was also the scaredy cat, which gave us even more cause for worry when we realized he was gone. Abrupt noises would completely freak him out and he'd fly across the room in a panic, and then thump into a wall or a chair for lack of control over his body. He was just hilarious to watch. And we will miss him.

I will always remember the weight of him when I picked him up and held him. He was so squishy and lovable. I adored the way he would plop down after a few tiring minutes of play. And the way he'd immediately start purring the most thunderous purr when you even came close to touching his soft, gorgeous fur. He had beautiful green eyes and the cutest dark stumpy tail. A tail with a crook in it that wiggled strangely when you pulled at it. I will miss the way he slept, curled up in a ball and sometimes, with his head upside down. The way he'd quiver when he was at his deepest sleep. I will not forget how many glasses he broke, just being Bola. He was like a bull in a China shop. Nor will I forget his timidness when he was a kitten, how it always took Bola longer than the other two to catch onto things. But when he did, he did it with gusto. Our Baby Bols, sometimes the brunt of jokes, but always a joy of a creature.