In Memoriam: Zeus, July 2002-December 6, 2005

A part of our family died today.

Steve came home from work and asked if I had seen Zeus. I told him I hadn't seen him for about three-four hours when he was last standing at the door with the snow falling lightly on his back. He had been looking up at me, just as in this picture, like he wanted to come inside and be a part of the warmth. I neglected to open the door, part out of sheer laziness; partially because I've been trying to "train" him to come around to the front door instead, and part due to the fact I was playing with Clayton at the time. Zeus loved to let Clayton play with him; he was probably wanting to come in and be a part of our revelry as he stood there at the door looking in, dejected.

Steve told me he thought he was dead, and I burst out the door to see for myself. About a quarter of a mile down the road, around the corner, was my Zeus. I saw his green collar and burst into tears. I pulled him to the side of the road and just stood over him, bawling. Steve picked him up and we walked home as the snow continued to fall. He took his body into the garage and I came in the front door, stopping briefly on the steps to say a prayer.

I feel so responsible. I didn't cause it, but I could have prevented it, and now I will forever remember that moment I glanced down at Zeus out on the deck, desperate to come in. I will always remember that sad look in his eyes as the last moment I saw him alive.

Steve and I sat on the couch for a good while, talking about Zeus's impact on our lives. I remember when Zeus was born--my aunt called me that summer day three years ago and told me a stray cat was giving birth by a dumpster in their ally. She said that they would surely get killed, so I ran into town and picked up momma and her three babies. Zeus was the first one to crawl out of the cushioned box, hissing the whole time, his eyes just little slits. Every night I'd come home from school I'd have to search the area for him because he was the only one to get out, and then I'd place him back inside with his family. All that angst in a little ball of fur seemed to indicate he'd be a survivor. And he was, on many accounts.

Zeus moved with us after we got married that fall. We ended up with 11 cats that winter--all in their own heated basement--so we didn't get to show them a lot of individual attention. I got pregnant, so I didn't go around all of them. In the spring, Steve let them outside one day so he could reorganize the basement. Zeus was one of the few that came back. He liked the outdoors, though, so we decided to let him come in and go out as he pleased, though we did have him fixed. It was only fair to let him keep his claws since he was a roamer. He brought surprises to our doorstep on a daily basis for awhile, as he was definitely a hunter, too.

When we moved here, Lucie, Leila, and Zeus were the only three left. Zeus seemed to be the protector of the two girls. If he was outside at night, he would almost always jump through our sliced convertible top and sleep in the car, scaring Steve to death in the morning when he got in to go to work.

I can't walk by the Christmas tree now without picturing how peaceful Zeus had been underneath it for the last few nights. I kept telling myself I was going to get pictures of him and Leila snuggled underneath it together, but I obviously put it off too long. I keep picturing the big lug running awkwardly through the pines in the yard this summer, chasing leaves, pine cones, anything that moved. He loved Clayton, and Clayton loved him. As a matter of fact, we were watching Sesame Street this morning and the topic was pets. Elmo was "interviewing" kids about their pets and Clayton was talking about his Zeus and "Yaya" (Leila).

I feel like my last few moments with Zeus were harsh, and that bothers me a bit, too. He had lost a tooth a couple summers ago after a fight, so he drooled really bad. At night when he'd jump into bed, he'd inevitably get happy and drool all over the place, and Steve or I would then "gently place" him on the ground. He'd keep hopping back up, wanting to be with us, but we'd make him get down because we couldn't handle all that drool. Eventually he'd give up and retreat to another room. Then there was the incident with the chicken alfredo the other night...No matter how much I spanked him for getting on the countertops, he still did. I was so pissed when I caught him eating Steve's supper that I threw one of Clayton's toy tractors at him.

As much as he may sound like a pestilence, he was still a personality around here. He was a part of our family, regardless of how aggravated we got. Like any creature, he just wanted to be loved.

We love you, and we'll miss you, Zeus.

"But ask the animals, and they will teach you, the birds of the air, and they will tell you, ask the plants of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every living thing..."