In a short period before what happened with Fergus (yes, three for three), these things happened:
1) A Tumblr post came up in my feed, a photoset that I'd never seen before or since, of a selection of scenes from children's films that were heartbreakingly dark in retrospect. One of them, from a film unknown to me, showed an adult person looking at a child and saying, simply, "The kitty had to go."
2) There was a rerun of an eighth season episode of Bones in which one of the subplots dealt with Dr. Sweets' breakup with intern Daisy Wick. At one point Ms. Wick confesses her feelings to Dr. Saroyan, who tells her that they had something alive and vibrant which is now gone, and that the sadness she feels is because she's grieving that. When Daisy asks if perhaps it couldn't be brought back to life, Cam says As a scientist, have you ever seen anything come back to life and be as good as it ever was? She then goes on to counsel Daisy: So feel sad. Cry. You lost something wonderful, but keep moving forward. It'll get better. I promise.
3) I kept seeing, in my mind's eye, the 5 of Pentacles from the Tarot of the Cat People deck.
|This is what my brain does to me.|
Sometime later (afterward) I was dozing on the sofa, and in that threshold state between awake and asleep I saw him, reclining on the living room floor as he often had, awake and alert and looking at me; the vision startled me awake, though not in a bad way. I had dreams of both Warlock and Autumn after their deaths, in each case seeing them first as adults and then in subsequent dreams in kitten form, so perhaps the pattern will hold with Fergus as well.
Still, fuck my life. :(
* * *
Addendum (some time after the above was written; I've developed a bad habit of not dating my hand-written notes):
I had another dream a while later. At one point, I was reclining with Fergus curled up on my chest, above my heart; the next thing I remember is being beneath a tree, holding him, and a woman--unknown to me but not unfamiliar, if that makes any sense--saying, very gently, "You have to let him go, you know."
"I know," I said, and I did; I recall feeling peaceful enough, if a little sad. I put him on the ground, and he ran off along a path/road leading out and away from where we were standing. At the far visible end of it he stopped, looked back at me, then turned the corner and disappeared from sight.
On another subsequent night, I dreamed I had gone to a park, and there came upon a kitten: a small boy, eyes still blue, coat of a dark plushy grey with white front paws. Near him was a large book, and when I opened it (of course I opened it!) I found a paper explaining that if I'd found him, then he was my cat, and outlining the responsibilities thereof. It read like some kind of cross between a cat breeder's kitten adoption contract and a "please take care of my baby" letter written by a distraught mother putting their kid in a basket on a random doorstep.
So what else could I do? I picked him, the letter, and the book, up, and took them home with me.