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Short Story / WAITING FOR GINA TO DIE (Analysis)
Shouldn’t be typing. The act of writing makes me feel better. Can’t do this and think of all the fingers and what I want to say at the same time.
She started bleeding this afternoon. I tried to open her mouth to see what was going on and a great big clump of blood fell out. She scratched me. Made me bleed. Our blood mixed. We will always be part of each other now. Like the stories you read. Like Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer. “Do you think she’s dying?” “Yes. We should take her to the vet, but she really hates the car and I don’t want to freak her out. Don’t want her last minutes to be frantic.”
Watching her. Watching her. Blood dripping from her nose or mouth – can’t really see which. Does it matter? No. Doesn’t matter. Looks as if she’s feeling dizzy. What’s it like for a cat to feel dizzy? Same as us I suppose. Why should I be so upset? She’s just a cat. An eighteen year old cat. Had her a l long time. She was born under my bed. He little white paws, which she kept so immaculate, have great, big ugly splotches of blood on them.
Keep going outside to check if she’s dead. Want to be with her when she dies. She’s in Kem’s kennel. Only cat I’ve ever known who sleeps in a great big dog kennel. It’s okay Genes. Just go to sleep. Just go to sleep. I love you Genes. You can go now. Just go to sleep. You’ll be with Kemmy. Tell Kem I miss her. Oh God. Look after Genes.
Walk around the house from kitchen to dining room to hallway to bedroom to hallway to dining room to kitchen to dining room to hallway. Stop it. Feel like a zombie. Don’t know what I’m doing. Like a mad person. Out of touch. Nothing is real. From kitchen to dining room to hallway to bedroom. Get more tissues. Check if she’s still alive. One more cigarette and you better be dead by then. Where will I bury her? Don’t even know if you’re really allowed to bury pets on the property. Don’t care. What if Hazey or Penny digs where I bury her? I’ll get up early and bury her. Gee, she’s not even dead yet. Forty year old woman found digging cat’s grave at 4am. Sounds ghoulish. Stop being dramatic. This hurts so much.
She’s still not dead. This little cat who has been through so much still can’t let go. “Leave her Bern. Just let her go peacefully. Just let me give her a little stroke.” I know that Mom is saying goodbye to her. Mom is crying too. That just about kills me. Mom who didn’t like cats in the first place before Gina came. Before Gina was born under my bed in the middle of all my macramé. How can so much blood come out of such a little cat? Can feel every bone under her fur. Her white paws no longer white. I should have taken her to the vet. I should have taken her. Then she would still have her pretty white paws. This hurts so much. She’s only a cat. Only been part of our lives for eighteen years. Disappeared for three weeks. Thought she was dead then. She came home, looking beautiful and scratched me. Got mauled by the dogs next door. Thought she would die then. She’s been through so much, this tiny little cat, half the size of a proper cat. Used to follow me to the bus stop. Worried that she would get run over and shouted at her to “go home stupid cat”. Now I really wish she would go home. It’s okay, Gene’s. Go to sleep little kitty. I love you Gene’s. Oh God this hurts so much. Let me just check if she’s dead yet. Will she yowl when she dies? Always yowling. Like a tom cat.
21:00
Stupid cat still isn’t dead. Father said “She’ll die in the night. I’ll put her in a bag in the morning” I started crying. She’s not some bit of rubbish to be thrown away. Just went to see her. She’s struggling. Fighting death. Had a few sort of spasms and ended up bashing herself against the kennel. Can’t stand this anymore. Wish I could strangle her or shoot her or something. Genes, I am sorry. It isn’t because I don’t love you. Please know that, little kitty and sleep well tonight.
21:41
Sat on the floor cuddled Hazey and Penny and cried. Felt like hot chocolate. Went to the kitchen, looked out the window. Gina’s legs were twitching. David said their cat went like that before he died. She was very still. Though she was dead. Went outside. Tucked her into the kennel and found she was still breathing. I stroked her. She sort of groaned. Her tail was wet and the kennel smelled like cats wee. She didn’t respond when I moved her. I wanted to pick her up, but was afraid of hurting her. She doesn’t seem to be conscious anymore. I wish I could hold her. I wish she could die in my arms. I don’t really want to pester her. She’ll probably be dead within an hour. Maybe even half. I want to see her again. No leave her now. Just once. No. Have I been cruel? I should have taken her to the vet. I didn’t want her last minutes to be frightening. I’m sorry Genes. Oh God I am so sorry. I’ll check her one more time.
22:28
Gina was dead. Why was the one side of her face all wet? I started crying again and went to tell my mother who had just put her light out. She found a shoe box because she was only half the size of what a proper cat should be. I wrapped her in a piece of cloth and as I picked her up, I saw her eyes were open. I thought I was going to scream because maybe we were going to bury her alive. I tried to close her eyes and managed to a small extent. They were looking right at me. Oh my Gina. Then my mother said “I wish we could bury her now and get it over with”. That was an answer to prayer. Although her tiny body was still warm, she had started to go stiff and her legs wouldn’t fold up. So I just took her in the cloth, which is the way I would want to be buried. My mother had to get the torch from my father who of course wanted to know what she needed it for.
There was something quite macabre and almost humorous about my mother and I traipsing to the bottom of the garden in the middle of the night to dig a grave. An inefficient spade and a disabled digger did not make easy work, but at least the soil was still damp from all the rain. The first time I hit brick about eight inches down, so I had to start again. Then we heard my father’s characteristic clomp, clomp, clomp down the pathway. He came and stood there helplessly and uselessly telling us to leave it till tomorrow. I just ignored him and kept digging with my weak legs and numb feet refusing to give pressure to the spade. Then I stepped back into the first hole and fell against the wall to get my balance. Mother kept saying, “This isn’t very good for you. You’ll knock yourself out” and father kept saying, “You are bloody silly. Leave it till tomorrow”. I did not want him to bury the cat that he hated and that slept under his chair just to bug him. So I continued to ignore him.
We put Gina in. I didn’t want sand going in her still sort of open, but lifeless eyes, so I held the piece of cloth over her eyes and put the sand in with my hand. Then I started crying again when my mother put a little Chinese flower on her grave and said something like “ashes to ashes”. And this is making me cry again. And my father kept standing there saying “You are bloody stupid. Leave this till tomorrow”. Meanwhile it was all finished.
My little Gina. Be happy with Kemmy whom you loved so much and watch out for Maybe who was always after you. And if Delaney and Igor are up there too, which they could be because they were old, get them back for almost killing you that time, then make friends. We will miss you. Granny will miss feeding you first thing in the morning and Penny will miss licking you. I think she will miss stealing your food most of all! Perhaps Haze will miss you too. She cuddled me lots when I was crying. I loved you little Genes. Right now my heart, my guts, my soul are being ripped right out of me, but they will come back I suppose. I feel strangely at peace now.
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This is extremely heartfelt, and the mad, stop start way is written is exactly how we think at times such as this.
I liked this a lot.
Gina sounds like a wonderful little cat.
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