Sweet Puma

CW: Death, grief

Lick, lick, lick. I brush my hair behind my ear and trot into my favorite place. Her feet are hanging off the edge of our bed, and her arm is draped over her eyes. Asleep. I am happy she is all tucked in, even if she left the light on. I might play with the string that hangs down from the bright circle because it will remind her to turn it off. I jump on my tower and reach my arm out to grab the metal string. It works. She wakes up in a fright. I wonder why she is in a shock. I give my warm hello to make sure she calms down. Then, I notice she is leaking! The black stuff that she attempted to wear on her eyes throughout the day dripped down into her mouth. Yuck. I always hated the smell of it. It would also stick to me whenever she nuzzled into my stomach. Still, I was just happy to be next to her. Without warning, she sits up to an even worse realization of the black smears on the fresh white comforter. I see her frustration and move before she can wad up the entire blanket and throw it across the room. I hop off my tower and prance over to warm the side of her shoulder as she drops back onto the bare bed. Sobs ripple through the room. I feel content knowing she is still here and drifting back to sleep. 

***

Everything has been pretty normal since a few moons ago. Only a few things have seemed to be different. I do not hear the timer or the noise of the little delicious rocks falling onto the shiny plate, and Grandma does not come in each morning to open the blinds. On the bright side, I do not need to run to the timer anymore. I am not sure why. I feel very free and comfortable in my new body. Despite my annoyance at Grandma not opening the blinds, I peak behind them anyway. One day I had enough, so I laid right on the soft, white comforter to ensure she would see me. This would remind her. To my joy, it did. I became confused when she saw me. Instead of her normal hug, she put her hand right next to me and water fell from her face too. I don’t know why everyone is leaking so much around me. But now, the blinds are open. Grandma told the others she knew I was there.

***

When Mom is home, the same pattern repeats. More leakage, black streaks, and then throwing clothes into the closet. She used to fold them until the edges were perfect. I would sit on them, and with a laugh she would toss me off of the piles—with a kiss, of course. It is my favorite game. I look up to find her walking into our room to sit next to my metal plate and smile. I am so happy to see her. I sit with her and lick the black smears from her face. I think it makes her itchy. Millie sits with her. I am usually annoyed with Millie’s presence, but as of late, I have been enjoying it much more. She does her usual smelling of Mom and me, and Grandma watches her with curiosity. I don’t know why they seem confused, but Millie and I greet each other like normal anyway. These days, when Millie comes to say hello, Mom and Grandma have the water on their faces.

***

I trot out to the kitchen when I heard Grandpa opening a can of tuna. I don’t want to eat it anymore, yet I feel full standing on the counter. 

“Oh, Puma. Please come get some tuna. I need my buddy.” Grandpa says with a watery grin. I purr and rub against his hand. He gets itchy too. After he attempts to eat his sandwich, I take my opportunity to knock it off the counter. It doesn’t fall, but I have fun going after it. I sit up, very satisfied, and I watch my people move around the room. 

Grandma and Mom don’t seem to be talking much. Mom’s eyes look red and big, and Grandma doesn’t smile when she sees her. They attempt to put their arms around each other, so I leap down as fast as I can to get in between them all. I have always loved my den and my humans. I feel Mom’s warm blood as I rub against her leg. She is always warm. I was so cold the day she took me home, and the warmth of her body consumed me as we were glued together in the big metal box. The box seemed to be moving, and I remember wishing that I would not end up in another metal cage. That night, we laid in our cozy bed with our white blanket, and the rest was history. I snap out of my memories when Millie approaches. Without warning, her nose in my fur. I playfully bat at her as she barks in return. My humans break up their huddle to look down at the both of us. Grandma reaches down to lift Millie into her arms and gives her a kiss on the nose. I know Mom is too sad to pick me up. I hate seeing her this way. I need to fix this.

***

I decided Mom became this way after my long nap. I am not sure why because after I fell asleep for a while, I woke up so much better. Before my long nap, the smell of tuna made me sick. I couldn’t run to the timer for a long while. I just stayed cozy under the bed until my sickness passed. I knew it would take at least a moon to feel better. To my surprise, I healed before the next moon came! I went with Mom to the other den that I didn’t like very much. But, she held me in the moving metal box, and I was able to feel her warmth the entire time. Mom is always warm. At the dreaded place, where they usually touch and poke me, I had the chance to lay on a warm blanket there too. Soon enough, I took a long nap with my people around me, and I woke up with no sickness. I was so grateful that the touching and poking humans healed me, that I was confused when my family came home and didn’t make their usual noises. So, here we are, a few moons later, and my humans still struggle to make their usual chatter. In silence, with Grandma holding Millie, I sprint back to my perfect room and my perfect bed. Determined. If Mom can’t understand how much better I feel, I must show her. 

***

I enter, ready for action. Since I can’t knock over my usual items, I decide the dents on our heated bed will do. I run, jump, and laugh with excitement. I love my home so much, and I know Mom will feel it too. After my prints are all over the bed, I curl up on the pillow. My purring ripples through my fur as I hear my humans talk about me. The poking and touching humans always called me “Sweet Girl.” My family started calling me that too. I prefer “Puma,” but I don’t care as long as they are talking. I hear footsteps. This is the moment we will be together. She doesn’t know it yet, but I am here. I will always be here. I am her Sweet Puma. She is my mom. Mom stops in the doorway. Oh no. She looks like she is going to throw clothes again. No, I am wrong! She looks like she will fall over if she takes another step. She doesn’t fall. She looms over our bed and swipes her hand over the comforter. 

Mom! Stop! You are ruining the surprise! I muster with all of my might. I spring off of our pillow and do a trot again. She drops to my height and stares at my paws. It is happening. 

“My—” Yes, Mom, me. 

“My Sweet Puma,” she chokes out. Her leaking is back. It doesn’t matter. I lean against her to feel the warmth I have felt since the first day I found my forever den. For the first time since my long nap, I know she can feel my warmth too.