Poor Denis

A long time ago, I came into possession of two persion cats, named Denis & Francis (Already named). My girlfriend at the time really wanted cats, and I reluctantly agreed, and then suddenly, we had these two cats. I don’t know if you know anything about Persian cats, but they are hard to take care of – you have to constantly comb them and clean their eye-ducts, etc. Really, unless you have a particular desire to own pure-bred cats, and love long-hairs,there’s no reason to ever own a Persian cat. And I certainly have no desire or love of purebreds. Which of course meant that when we broke up, I inherited the cats. But of course, these cats had distinctive personalities and I grew to love them, despite the difficulties in caring for them. And to make this a little worse, they both died quite horribly.

Denis, the little black cat, who was a total suck (literally – he would often suck on your fingertips, like a kittne that still hasn’t been weaned). He was cuddly and lovable. He was also riddled with tumors. Eventually, his tumors grew and spread so much that one of them snapped his spinal cord, and he was paralyzed from his mid-section on down. This happened one evening while I was out. Nicole called me, frantically, I rushed home to find a terrified, mewling Denis pulling himself along the floor, his hindquarters dragging behind. We took him to the vet, where he was put down, thankfully.

Francis, who had feline diabetes, died not longer Denis. I was never really sure what happened with Francis, but he just kind of … gave up, I think. So why do I tell you all this? Because Denis still haunts my dreams, and he featured oddly in a dream I had last night:

I was on a space station. The Borg (from Star Trek) were closing in fast to board the space station. I was in the airlock with Denis. I knew that to stop the Borg, I had to kill Denis. So I snapped his neck. He mewed that horrible cancer-ridden, terrified mew at me, but didn’t die. So I snapped his neck again. I could feel bones break, and hear little popping noises. But he only turned to mew at me again. It was awful. I must have done this at least a dozen times before the Borg breached the airlock, venting me into space and I awoke.

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