I insisted that I wanted you gone, holding to being a lifelong dog person. Well, as soon as you climbed in my lap and purred, pressing against me, I knew I was done for. I was no longer a dog person. In fact, I'm not sure I ever truly was. Sure, I took you to the vet, both to have you scanned and to have you checked out. There was no chip, and nobody seemed to be looking for you. They estimated you were at least three years old. It seemed based on some scars you either had been in some fights, or as we suspected, you had been injured in the tornado earlier that year. We decided to call you Mr. Darcy, but that kept getting shortened to Darcy, and we found ourselves calling you she/her instead of he/him. Due to this, we changed your name to Edgar.
While we lived in Joplin, we let you stay as an outdoor cat. This resulted in our neighbors yelling at us about you leaving dead birds on their doorsteps (which, considering that one called me a creepy ass neighbor for bringing her brownies, I thought was hilarious.) It also unfortunately resulted in the side effect of you getting worms which I am certain were not pleasant to have removed. One of the cutest things that happened was when we brought home Dante. That night, you came back to the apartment with a baby rabbit. I thought you had killed it, but nope. You had gently carried it as if to say "you have a baby, so do I!" The bunny was shaking, but not injured.
You made it known that you were our family's protector. When Dante was sick or having a bad dream, you would stay near him. When Casey was going through the miscarriage, you lay on her belly. When I was having anxiety and stress problems, you pressed against me, purring. Even we brought home Darcy and Vega, outwardly you showed your scorn for us adding more pets, but inwardly we could see you watching out for them. This especially showed when we made our thousands of miles of moves across country, and you showed Darcy it was going to be okay.
I wish I hadn't pushed against having you. I wish we had done more than yearly checkups and shots. I wish I had noticed and done something sooner about your teeth hurting, because maybe then they could have found the cancer and actually done something. I'm sorry if you were in pain. You never really cried about anything, so we don't know, but your eyes seemed to show it. They seemed to be dilated, possibly from pain, or maybe you knew the surgery was coming. However, I'm glad that the last time I held you, the dilation had lowered, and I could see the color of your eyes (I being more colorblind than you don't know if they were yellow or green or both). You looked at me, and I felt like you were telling me it'd be okay. I chose to believe you were letting us know you'd fight it and make it through. Even though you didn't, I'm glad that's going to be one of my last memories with you.
Thank you for everything Edgar. We love you and will miss you forever.