Releasing Buna

Buna, my white cat, died mysteriously many years ago. Though some people can't understand why there are people like me who get too attached to pets, i only have  this to answer, "Love is love and does not change regardless of whom or what you give it to."


The lights have gone out for Buna.

Of this, I am particularly sure. Although I have no way of proving it, I remain steadfast. The overwhelming dread and melancholy that has been nagging me for days is enough to confirm my suspicion.

The last time I remember calling out to her was three days ago. She didn't come. That night, upon returning home from work, I searched for her again. I combed every lawn and bush in the entire street where I live, hoping to somehow catch a glimpse of her pristine white fur. But there were only the shadows cast by the trees and tall grass as they danced under the faint light of the crescent moon.

The next morning, I decided to stop hoping. It was then that an inexplicable fear swept over me again. The uncontrollable thumping of my heart overshadowed what little hope I had left. With deep sorrow, I resigned myself to the inevitable truth: Buna would never come home.

At that moment, I could feel her life slowly slipping away.

And that night, as though in lamentation, the heavens sympathized with me; it cried. While the rain was drenching the world outside, I envisioned Buna as she desperately clung to her last remaining breaths. 

Through my sadness, I managed to utter a brief prayer, asking that she yield without having to experience so much pain. Though it killed me, I had asked for her to give up her fight and embrace her fate. 

I knew my prayer was heard. "It would not be long now," I thought to myself. Buna's suffering was about to come to an end. Finally.

Weakly, I got out of bed and went to the window facing our lawn. As I looked out, the world was reduced to a hazy blur of images and colors moving rhythmically along with the beat of the raging wind. 

Somewhere through the din of the roaring downpour, while life continued to churn despite the uninterrupted wailing of the sky, Buna, at long last, gave up her battle and breathed her last. 

With unwavering grace, she closed her beautiful green eyes, never to open them again.

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