Update: Brown Butter's Passing

 Brown Butter is no longer of this world.

On Saturday morning, my road dog and I woke up to the horrific sight of her tangled and dangling from a willow tree. Dead.

I know that we did our best to keep her safe; we were vigilant and careful, but still failed. When I first decided to take her along with us, I said that I'd be responsible for her. I failed her.
I failed to protect her. I failed to keep her safe. I failed to give her the many years of love and happiness that she deserved. I failed.

I brought her along in the first place because she was a stray. She was a very affectionate creature. She craved warmth and affection. Each night, she'd curl up at my chest. Each day, she'd jump from the mattress I was on to the pull out couch my road dog was on. Making her rounds screaming for pets and scratches.
The owner of the farm was too busy, even for his own favourite cat. The clowder of cats running around there received little attention. It just broke my heart to think of leaving her, virtually on her own.
We gave her a life that she loved.

Fuck the ignorant yuppies who say this is a hard life for an animal. She constantly held her tail up high. She loved being able to travel to different places, hunt different mice, and climb different trees. She'd start every morning by pawing at me to move aside so she could sit on the sleeping bag and recieve pets from me. But she would always patiently wait for my road dog to wake up before bounding over to him, crawl into his lap and meow her demands for his pets.
She had everything she could ever want. She despised having to be indoors. She preferred being on leash outdoors rather than being off leash indoors.

We only wanted her to be loved and happy and safe. We did everything we could. Yet, I can't help but hate myself. I didn't do enough. I didn't even manage to keep her safe for two years. Her second birthday was coming up in a little over a month. She was still a baby. My baby.

It had hit us harder than any death before. She had filled every hour, every second of the days we'd had with her. Every decision was made with her in mind. Every smile was because of her very existence. Every thought, she would be there. How do you move on from that? How do you continue living when the one being who had brought meaning and purpose to your own existence is gone? How do you live with the guilt of being alive when she was robbed of that? I would trade places with her in a heartbeat.

What had made me special was Brutter. She loved me, and that's what made me worthwhile. My life is not more important than hers. She was the most beautiful, spunky, sweet, clever, and loving creature I'd ever been so blessed to have in my life. It's not fair that her blinding light was snuffed out so soon. Too soon.

I'm probably wallowing in my own self-pity, but this pain is more than just from losing someone I love, it's from the tragedy of someone's life being cut short so soon. Despite the grief from losing my grandparents and my childhood cat of fourteen years (Bobbi), I was able to more easily accept them, because they'd lived relatively long lives. Bobbi was my small bean, but she'd gotten old, I knew she'd have to go soon. But Brutter, she was my new baby girl, my love, and my, at least, decade long responsibility. Yet I couldn't manage to give her a life beyond two years, not even.

I feel no point in being alive. I hardly had any will to live before she scampered into my life. That's why I've not faced life with much of any plan or aspirations; because I figured that if I was gonna kill myself anyways, I might as well enjoy myself the best I can. Funny how I was offered a glimpse of hope, only for it to be ripped away from me.

I still can't forget her face that morning after my road dog, bawling and screaming her name untangled her and laid her on the ground. I thought she might've just been paralyzed. It couldn't be too late. It couldn't. I dropped to her side and quickly started rubbing her back. But the dried blood down her neck from her gaping mouth told me it was no use. I laid there, holding her. Wishing she'd wake up.

It's not fair. We had no idea that such a freak accident would have happened. We'd slept in that same exact spot for nearly an entire week beforehand. Everything was perfectly fine. I still can't grasp what went wrong. I still can't grasp how I had failed. I still can't grasp that she, someone so full of love, had to die alone. She died alone. Don't you see? That's the worst part. She was abandoned as a kitten, alone, and then she died alone. She needed me to be watching her the most that morning, but I was too busy being in a deep sleep.

We couldn't even have her cremated. Every fucking animal hospital was closed for the fucking weekend. We didn't know how to keep her corpse for the next two days. We had to bury her. We had to leave her behind in northern Wisconsin, forever. We had to leave her. We had to fucking leave her.

But we found a spot far in some woods. A spot she would have loved. Trees, fallen trees, long grass, acres of land, and a river nearby. We laid her, wrapped snug in her blankets, with her favourite toy. We dismantled her carrier and used the top as a headstone, burying the sides into somewhat of a mound formation. Emptied out one of the three cans of Fancy Feast gravy lovers I'd bought for the train ride on top of the pile of dry food I'd just purchased the other day. Filled her dish with water. Then, we cut some of our hair and burned it in front of her grave.
You know, I cut off more hair for her than I had for my own grandmother who'd passed away earlier this year. My grandmother was a huge part of my life. But that pudgy little cat had become my life.

We sobbed and clung to each other, telling her how much we loved and missed her in both English and Korean. I'd largely raised her with Korean. She understood it the best. She was such an intelligent multilingual cat; she even understood a few phrases in Russian, French, and ASL too.

Despite speaking to plants, water, and land formations, I don't know much about spirits of the dead. I hope there's life after death. I hope Brutter's spirit can forgive me. I hope she finds peace for her next phase. I hope our other loved ones are taking care of her. I hope that, someday, we can be with her again.

Brown Butter Bar

An extraordinary travel kitty

우리의 똑똑하고 이쁜 사랑이야

September 22, 2022 - August 10, 2024