Years ago I had a cat—a black and white named Siegfried, Siggy for short. He was a rescue cat from the veterinary clinic back when I lived in British Columbia, and whether it was true or not, the day I met him was to be his last, but I did meet him, so it wasn’t. He came back to live with me and my family until his death in 2005, but I never knew how old he actually was.
Throughout his life his gentle character and welcoming personality earned him the title of Ambassador of Cats. There was a soft snapping sound I would make with one finger against my palm that if he heard he would come over to and stand up on his back legs, his front claws dug into my leg, head stretched up so I could pet him. He’d purr and all would be well. I’d whistle for him at the end of the day if he was outside and within a few minutes he’d be chirping in a way I’ve never heard a cat do before or since as he emerged from the shadows.
The topic of pets came up the other day at work—specifically how we often outlive them, and how difficult it is that we do. I told them about Siggy, the best cat in the world, and how hard it was to say goodbye to him, to feel him leave in my arms. They looked at my with pained expressions. They couldn’t believe I’d stayed there while it happened. A lump formed in my throat—I’d known this cat for fifteen years he wouldn’t have had otherwise. I saw him everyday. He was my friend, and I loved him. I knew I owed him that final respect—I saved his life, and for years he enriched not only mine but also the lives of those—human and feline—around him. And when the time came, when I knew I couldn’t save his life any longer, I also know I couldn’t leave him alone to die again. I know I wouldn’t have been able to face myself if I hadn’t in the same way I understood how my coworkers wouldn’t have been able to face themselves if they had.
I’ve been disappointed in the world lately—wasted potential angers me. I’m offended at the issues of the day—I honestly believed we were further along then it appears we are, but here we are, still trying to figure out how we all feel about access to equality and equity, still trying to figure out how we’re supposed to treat one another. Well—Siggy figured it out, despite occasionally licking his own balls in public, so there’s at least that common ground with conservatives. Gotta start somewhere, right?
But it’s not the world, actually. It’s the place that thinks it’s the world, the United States of America, the biggest frat house on the world street that shits its pants if it thinks it’s not invited to the block party, threatens to blow it up because it doesn’t like the DJ, drinks too much anyway, locks itself out of its own house, and then crashes on Canada’s porch after throwing up on it. And despite all this there is still the discussion here about being more like America.
You know that friend you used to have? You know the one you used to hang out with all the time as you helped each other with projects, you’d build stuff together, lend each other things, drink beer, laugh with, struggle with… Then one day as if overnight they became a bigoted, ignorant, misogynistic, hate‐filled, dishonest, greedy, petty, terrified little bastard. Then you realize it wasn’t overnight but something that happened so gradually you hadn’t noticed for years. And then you step even further back and realize they’d been a monster all this time but you’d only ever known this one person so you didn’t really know anything otherwise. That’s how I feel about the United States right now.
The title of this post is also the title of the song I currently have on repeat. Called Say Something Loving it’s from The xx’s third album I See You. The song, along with the rest of the album, is beautifully produced, and right now is my current pick for music perfection. Inspired by this track, I left myself a note: write something loving it said. With the dumpster fire of America raging so close by it seemed all I could write was more rage, but I know rage makes me sick. I cannot dwell on it. I cannot write rage and have it come out reading anything other than more rage, more fuel for the fire.
Siegfried—I write this for you, the Ambassador of Cats, you in simply being knew how to be kind to everyone you met. Whatever thoughts you may have had, your hopes or fears, they were yours, and they didn’t betray your actions. Here’s some news I thought you might like: Iceland recently passed legislation requiring employers to demonstrably prove they are paying men and women equal pay for equal work. Germany will be overturning the convictions of and compensating gay men prosecuted under archaic legislation prohibiting homosexuality. And a New Zealand school has introduced a range of gender neutral uniforms for students to choose from.
America will still be America, right up until it is or isn’t —but I think I’ve found some better friends anyway.