We found my cat.

I went back to my grandmas today. I hate going there because I know Max should be there but he’s not. I went back there and was planning to stay in the car but I didn’t. For some reason I got out and went into the back of my grandma’s property.

I went out to where we had last seen him. I’ve been drunk so I was just wandering around, stumbling over the weeds and softly sobbing for him.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a huge bird picking at something fuzzy and dark on the ground. I knew it was Max before I even got close enough. I just knew.

I got close enough to see the little white paws. I got close enough to see the face.

I am so relieved to know where he is. I feel so much closure. But he was so close to home. He was less than 20 years from my dad’s bedroom window where he got out. He hasn’t been dead long. He came back home to die.

He was the most unique cat I have ever known. I know everyone says that about their cat but he was so different. He meowed more than any other cat. He responded to my calls. He loved kittens and protected them. He gave “kisses” (head butted your lips) when you asked him. He loved burrowing under blankets and sitting on your lap. He let me hold him. He loved being held. He was what held me up when I was at my lowest and he was always there when I needed him.

I got home after I tried to kill myself for the first time. Nine years ago. And my parents got him as a gift for me. He’s not only a cat I shared a huge bond with, but a cat that held a deeply symbolic meaning to me.

I am so relieved to know where he is. I’m so relieved I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering what happened. But nothing will ever replace him and I will never forgive myself for the times I locked him out of my room or pushed him away when I was busy. I will never stop wondering why he stayed home so long or why he didn’t come home sooner.

He was RIGHT THERE. He was so close to home where we found him. He wasn’t dragged there by a coyote or anything. He died there.