This is a story about my best friend.

Let me tell you a story about my best friend, Elvis. She was born sometime in September 2007. We have been together since then. Of course I had not always been living together with her, but I have always held her close to my heart. I know that she would have picked my brother in a heartbeat given the option, but I like to think I have a special place in her heart too.

Sometimes at night when I couldn’t sleep, I kept on wishing that I had not met her sooner. If I met her these past few years, I would have been given her the best life she could have asked. I made a vow that when I return from Seoul, I would do her right and treat her good. And I tried so hard. I still do. I hope she knows that.

Last week I came home with news that Elvis had not been eating well for the past two days. She wont even come when I tempt her with her favourite tuna stick. Nothing could coaxed her out of her hiding spot. Instant fear took control of me. I have heard people said about how cat refuse to be around their humans if it’s their time to go. I was not going to lose Elvis, not when I have the means to treat her well.

I drove to the nearest clinic I could. I told the vet about Elvis’ symptoms. Apparently elvis caught a cold. It broke me to see Elvis looked so helpless and stressed out as the vet tried to pry her mouth open so he could feed Elvis the capsule she needs. I knew it was what’s best for her, but I wished I could push the vet out of the way because I feel like he’s hurting Elvis. I had to look away when the vet inject Elvis with vitamins that she needed. I couldn’t bear the sad look on Elvis’ face that day. She felt betrayed because I took her to the vet.

The vet gave me a prescription for Elvis. I drove around until I got to the third pharmacy that could concoct Elvis’ meds. I tried so hard to feed her the second capsule. I don’t want her to be hurt or scared by the process. I learn how to be patient. I learn how to understand Elvis more.

The next seven days were torture. I couldn’t see Elvis. I had to constantly annoy my brother to check up on Elvis. I came back home this weekend, and she seemed fine. My brother told me she was eating well. I felt relieved. Elvis finish her meds just yesterday. I felt like Elvis won this battle.

Then I came home again this evening. I called Elvis up to gave her some treats that she likes. She came just like usual. I knew that she had won against the flu. But when I saw her face, I felt like hundreds of daggers had pierced my heart. She had thick mucus hanging on her nose and she can’t open her right eyes. I panicked.

I threw everything away and took my dad’s car and brace the traffic to take Elvis back to the vet. The traffic was horrible and I took the wrong way. I fear for Elvis. She was so well yesterday. What happened?

Elvis’ regular vet was not around. I was not going to waste any precious seconds. I asked the available vet to check up on Elvis. I told her everything about Elvis since the last time she was at the vet. Thankfully, she says, that Elvis did not have a fever like last time. But, she’s also confused as to why Elvis still got a cold. I told the vet about Elvis’ eyes. She said that had something to do with Elvis’ nose being congested by mucus.

So Elvis had to go around the same routine as last week. She was about to get poke by needles for vitamins and to swallow yet another capsule.

Elvis is one smart lady, if you ask me. She knew the moment she enter the vet that she was going to go through the horrible ordeal she had to endure last week. So she came prepared. Elvis is nine years old. She’s pretty old, cat-age wise; she put up one fierce fight, one I’ve never seen before, when the vet was about to inject her with vitamins.

She ran to the corner of the vet’s room. She was drooling. She was frantic. She was scared. And I hate myself. Because I put her in that situation. How dare I call myself her friend when I scared her like that? I should have been her safety net, and I was the culprit that scared the life out of her. I wanted to run away. I don’t want to see Elvis in pain like that. Scared like that. Drooling like that. But, Elvis is a brave woman, and I have to be brave too.

I coaxed her. I called out to her. I tried to reason with her. I talked to her. And I politely ask her if I could just wipe her drool. My brother did the same. And she calmed down. She trusted my brother. And I hope she trusted me too.

Then comes the next adventure of going around to find a pharmacy that could mix Elvis’ med. All in all, I was out for almost two in a half hours. I was so tired. I just want to go to sleep. But I held Elvis instead. I held her close to me. And in that instant, I can feel her bones. She was so skinny. She was losing weight and I hadn’t noticed. How could I’ve been so oblivious to that? Oh I’m so sorry Elvis.

I scratch the back of her ear, and I whispered my mantra and prayers. I wished this would last long enough for Elvis to greet me with her sassy look in two weeks. I told my best friend, “Elvis, you need to get better. Because I’m only at my best when you’re at your best. Get better together with me, Elvis. Get better because you’ll make everything better.”

Please pray for Elvis. Please let her get better. I can’t lose another friend. I can’t lose Elvis. She’s my best friend.


2 thoughts on “This is a story about my best friend.

  1. Citra Saraswati says:

    I hope Elvis is feline better soon. My cat Bonchoy is rather unwell too right meow (just got back from the vet this morning) and that’s why I really feel for you. It’s hard but I hope you can be strong for your furry friend. Get well soon, Elvis!


    • dilchh says:

      Thank you so much, for the prayers and the puns also. I don’t know if you know this, but I love puns. So your comment definitely light up my day. I hope Bonchoy a speedy recovery.


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