The Death of My Cat :: Personal Narrative essay about myself

The Death of My CatThis fall, in the bleak and rainy old age just later Thanksgiving, two members of my family died. The low, a great aunt, passed on after lingering for years in a nursing home. Her funeral was sad in that the only mourners, other than her baby and the immediate family, were an elderly couple who erstwhile lived next door. The other death was my cat, Lady Macbeth, who died alone in a kitty hospital while my parents were away. Lady Macbeth was a remarkable cat. either cat owners think their cats are remarkable, but Lady Macbeth made a lasting impression on everyone she met, perhaps because she was never much of a cat. Lady Macbeth saw herself as a person who for some curtilage was treated like a cat day after day until it drove her mad. To her dying day she never stopped insisting (quite loudly) that she was not a cat and to please stop picking her up and make silly meowing noises and locking her in the basement with an actual cat (her sister Grimalkin). She and Grimalkin were famous largely for the adventures they had while her masters were away. There was the conviction she stayed the weekend at a friends apartment and uprooted all of his potted plants. There was the can buoy paper incident and the deep fat fryer incident. There was the time she managed to knock over a lazyboy recliner (I never did figure taboo how she did that one). Her sister unremarkably performed the stunts, but a bewildered Lady Macbeth usually got the blame. She had, as I said, an effect on people. Those who did not like cats to beget with often used Lady Macbeth as Exhibit A. further those with a place in their heart for cats would become more and more transfixed upon each new encounter. She was always frantic, was terrified of the outdoors by day but drawn there by night, would speak directly with human beings in a most un-cat-like way, and would make a beeline for any accessible lap, especially mine. I was very fond of Grimalkin, but still bet Lady Macbeth as my most eccentric friend. It bothered me at first that I wasnt able to make it back to Idaho before she died. What I wouldnt relieve oneself for one more hour of lap time with Lady Macbeth But then it occurred to me that I was placing undue emphasis on her final days.