Timmy

Annie met the love of her life on a stormy January afternoon. She woke up early to a clap of thunder so strong it shook the large window in her studio apartment. Turning over, she tried falling back asleep; but the thunder continued every few minutes, and soon she resigned to get up and make a cup of coffee.

She walked to work in the pouring rain, loving every second of the inclement weather. By the time she arrived at her desk her socks were wet and her thick wool sweater was heavily soaked, but she didn’t mind. Rain was always so much fun. 

Work itself was boring, as usual. Annie was an office clerk, and despite the fact that this was the highest paying job she’d ever had, she was frequently bored. It didn’t help that no one there seemed genuine. She felt lost in the sea of cubicles.

5:00pm came, and she was out of the building within minutes. She walked, thinking about her current situation: 27, single, living alone…and completely lonely. From the time she woke up to the time she turned in for the night, she barely spoke with any other human beings. She longed for companionship, but didn’t know where to find it. She wasn’t interested in dating. The nights felt long.

As she turned down the street toward her apartment, Annie passed the pet rescue shop. There was a big blue sign in the window that read, “Cat adoptions today”. She paused for a moment. Maybe…

She walked into the building and was met with an overwhelming smell of cats. She didn’t mind; she had several cats when she was growing up. In the back of the shop was a handful of cages, each with the name and bio of the cat inside. Cheeto the orange tabby liked being pet behind his ears. Lacy the calico liked chicken treats. Annie giggled. They were all adorable. She watched a black kitten play with a ball hanging from the top of the cage, and through the cage she could see another one in the very back of the room, covered in a towel. 

Annie walked over to the covered cage and saw the name card above. Timmy, 3 months, LOTS OF ENERGY. She looked around, then removed the towel. A tabby peered out at her, with grass green eyes and white stripes. He meowed and ran over toward her, sticking his little paw out, reaching for Annie’s hand. She smiled and lowered her hand to meet him. He tapped it a few times then meowed again. He began climbing the cage until he was eye to eye with Annie. Her heart swelled. 

She suddenly became anxious. She felt confused by what she felt. So she re-covered the cage, saying “Bye, Timmy” and left back onto the street. Walking home in the downpour, all she could think about was Timmy. Those eyes felt like they recognized her, somehow. She ate her dinner thinking about him, then cautiously opened her laptop to research cat beds, litter, and food. 

Annie woke up the next morning, a Saturday, and decided to head back to the shop. By noon, she was sitting on the floor playing with Timmy, who seemed happy and excited to be out of a cage.

The days passed contentedly. Annie would catch herself doodling Timmy’s face on all her Post-It’s at work. She decorated her desk with photos of him sleeping or knocking a cup off the coffee table.

That summer, Annie started dating again. After a few months, she found herself falling for her new person. The vulnerability she’d been so afraid of was at the forefront, and Annie could feel her walls crumbling. Her person came to her apartment and they would watch Timmy play with his toys until the candles burned low and they’d turn to each other for comfort.

One day Annie baked cookies for her friend. She wanted the apartment to smell good when they came over. Timmy rubbed against her leg as she cleaned up. She’d reached the end of the roll of foil, so she tore it off and made a tight walnut-sized ball. She looked down at Timmy, then rolled the ball across the kitchen floor. Timmy bolted after it and played for hours. The next morning, Annie found it in Timmy’s bed.

A few blissful months passed, until one day when Annie and her friend broke into a shouting match on the couch, leaving Annie in tears. After the door slammed shut, she collapsed on the bed, sobbing. Timmy jumped up next to her, then began licking her tears with a scratchy tongue. She laughed. He began to purr and curled up against her chest. She cried herself to sleep.

Life went on. Timmy grew into an 11-pound ball of energy. The seasons changed, year after year, but the one anchor in Annie’s life was Timmy. He was there every afternoon when she came home, and was her constant companion through life’s trials.

Annie came home one crisp autumn afternoon, and wasn’t met by the usual meows and click-click of Timmy’s feet on the hardwood floor. She called his name, then saw that he was laying in his bed. He hadn’t eaten all day. Annie leaned down to pet him and noticed his eyes were glassy. She grabbed the cat carrier, placed him in it gently, stuffed her favorite shirt in the corner, then headed to the vet.

Dr. Morales stepped out into the busy waiting room 45 minutes after she’d arrived. ”Annie- please come with me.” Annie stood up, anxiety in full swing, and followed the vet. They went into a consultation room, but Timmy wasn’t there. “Where is he??” Annie asked while holding back tears. 

Dr. Morales sat on a stool and sighed. “Annie, Timmy is very sick. It looks like he has an infection that travelled to his brain. Even if we give him antibiotics, it’s too late to help him.”

Annie just stared. “But he was fine yesterday? He ate and drank and was playing…he was fine.”

The vet sighed again and frowned sympathetically. “This can be a very fast-moving infection. I am so sorry.”

Annie’s world fell on itself at that moment. She would never hear his little feet again, wake up to him curled on her elbow, or hear his sweet meow. She was overwhelmed. Dr. Morales seemed to read Annie’s emotions when she quietly offered to bring Timmy in. Annie nodded through her tears.

What followed was the loudest silence Annie had ever experienced. The hum of the fluorescent lights and muffled voices from the hallway were the only sounds that penetrated it. She could hear her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She didn’t know it then, but she was in survival mode.

Suddenly the door opened and there he was: Timmy, wrapped tightly in a towel, eyes even more glazed than before. Dr. Morales handed him to Annie, like a newborn. Her child.

“Take all the time you need.”

But she didn’t have all the time. She had only a few short minutes left with him. 

She looked down at Timmy and sobbed. “I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry…” He never looked away from her. He was warm and looked so small like this. Annie began singing a made up song to him. He blinked slowly. Annie pulled him gently to her chest so he could hear her heart. Her mind went blank. Something in her told her to be present and soak in this moment, even though it was the most painful thing she’d ever experienced. 

Time stopped for Annie in those moments. She could feel the weight of Timmy in her arms, and how densely he was wrapped. There was a vague scent of rubbing alcohol in the room. She heard her own breathing mixed with sobs. She kissed Timmy’s head, and when she did she felt the velvet patch of forehead fur she loved so much. She smelled Timmy, taking it in. She talked him through what would happen next. “I’ll be there with you, buddy.”

And she was. She saw the light leave his eyes and the breath leave his lungs for the last time, as her heart broke.

In the days that followed, Annie moved through the world like the living dead. She barely slept, and when she did, she dreamed of not being able to save Timmy. Sometimes she thought she could hear him walking around at night, and felt the familiar weight of his body on the bed. She thought maybe she was losing her mind in grief. 

Eventually, months passed and all Timmy’s things were in boxes in storage. A photo of him hung in Annie’s living room, and sometimes she would talk to it, as if chatting with an old friend.

Annie had no friends; the love of her life was gone, and she felt lonely. Her therapist suggested joining a class or a club, but Annie was petrified. She was afraid of being laughed at, of no one talking to her, and of being left out. So she turned to books and told herself she was content being alone.

One spring day, Annie felt the need to deep clean her kitchen. She started mopping the tile and thought she should probably mop behind the refrigerator. She sang along and danced to the songs on her playlist, and felt excited to clean.

She pushed the fridge a few inches away from the wall, and gasped at what she saw.

It was Timmy’s foil ball.

Annie picked up the ball and sat on the floor for a long while. To her surprise, she didn’t cry. She felt nostalgic, and grateful to have known Timmy. She suddenly realized that she would be okay. She placed the foil on the mantle under Timmy’s picture. 

In the coming weeks, she joined a book club and went to a meeting. She felt awkward, but met another woman who had a similar sense of humor. They lingered after the others had left, talking about their favorite authors and genres. As they left the coffeehouse, the woman turned to Annie and smiled and said, “See you next week?” 

It was the first time in a long time that Annie had something to look forward to.