Last night, someone in my neighborhood brutally murdered my kitten, Zen. They did so with a baseball bat. Today, my kitten was found on the sidewalk behind my house.
Update: 2:45PM EST
I couldn’t bring myself to go out there. I didn’t want to remember his corpse. I wanted to remember his beautiful olive, shining eyes and his black little nose. My dad offered. He worked Graves’ Registration in Vietnam. Death is something he can handle.
Before he could do it, Zen’s body was found by a loving neighbor who buried him. She gave him a final resting place in her own yard. I plan on carving a stone to mark it.
He was the sweetest, most social kitten in the world. He never tried to hurt anyone, and never even hissed at anyone. He was my baby and my best friend. He cuddled with me at night. When I would cry, he would retract his claws and paw my face to wipe the tears away. He always knew when there was something wrong, and he would do anything in the world to make it better. I loved him like family.
Today, all I have of him are his belongings and my memories. And all of the tears I’ve cried for him.
He was a baby, only 7 months old. He was murdered on his 7 month birthday. What kind of cruel, sick, vile, evil, fucking piece of shit monster would do that to the sweetest baby kitten? They deliberately did it! No one just carries a baseball bat! They killed my little kitty in cold blood!
I am so torn up about this. I loved him. I really did. And I have no idea how I can possibly honor a creature who had such a short existence in my life but made such a profound impact. How do I avenge him? How could I ever make this right?
I loved him. I loved him with my whole heart. And I miss him so much. I will never forget him.