My Support Cat

I wish it wasn’t real. I wish that what my mum was telling me wasn’t true, but in my heart I knew it was. My beloved support cat, given to me when I was diagnosed with panic disorder. He was supposed to help calm me down when I was going through a panic attack, and he did his job well. But my dear cat was found dead on the road near my house. I shouldn’t have let him outside; how could I have done this to him after all he’s helped me with. ‘No, it can’t be true, he can’t be dead!’, some part of brain was telling me but there, right in front of me, in my mum’s arms was his limp dead body. “Seephor….” I say, I wish I could laugh at the stupid name I had given him, Seephor meaning ‘C for’ as in C for cat, but I couldn’t laugh now. I look at my mum, tears blurring my eyes, as she adverts her gaze. Then as if scripted I could feel a panic attack coming on, the only thing I could think of was that Seephor was no longer there to help me through it. The last thing I remember was my mum looked alarmed as I struggled to draw breath. When I regained consciousness I was in the hospital my mum was next to me, she explained that I had gotten a bad panic attack and passed out. I asked her “Was it all a dream? Please tell me it was all a dream”, but as I looked at her, tears welling in my eyes again, she shook her head. “He’s really gone isn’t he” I said, the tears that had been welling up in my eyes now splashing down on the white sheets of the hospital bed I was in. I don’t remember falling asleep I only remember waking up the next day and my mum telling me that I was discharged from the hospital and that we were going to go the therapy. Oh, how I hate therapy, I had to go when my dad died and I absolutely hated it, having to tell a random stranger all your feelings and problems. Fortunately, my mum said we were seeing the therapist I had seen when dad died so they were less of a stranger. When I told them about my cat they listened to all I had to say, all my troubles, worries and feelings occasionally they would ask questions like “Why do you think you feel this way”, and I finally understood the worth in therapists. Before when dad died I didn’t understand but I was just young then now I’m older and I’ll work to get through this. After a few months of seeing the therapist life has gone back to normal there’s still a place in my heart for Seephor but now I have moved on, I even have a dog now called Deephor.


25 was established in 1997, and since then we have successfully completed numerous short story and poetry competitions and publications.
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