I am so tired... only 48 days days after the tragic loss of Simba, it's happened again.

One of our dear sweet orange babies, Creamsicle...he was struck and killed by a car this morning.

I am so tired...I really am. He was inside all night last night and literally all he wanted to do this morning was go out and get some fresh air, as he often does.

And he ended up losing his life.

I have not and will not see his body, my sister told my mum she shouldn't see and she told me I shouldn't see it either. I assume it looked bad, so I only hope it was instant for Creamy. One second he was here and the next, he was gone. No time to process pain or cry for help before succumbing to his injuries. Just quick.

I want to make the rest of this journal entry about Creamsicle and who he was.

He was awesome, that's what he was. He was an awesome cat.

He was about 1.5 years and he was born and raised here in this house. He grew up knowing me as one of his safe persons.

I am also the one who gave him his name. I named him Creamsicle because his orange and white coloring really reminded me of, well, Creamsicles - those popsicles that are vanilla ice cream on the inside and orange sherbet on the outside.

The funny thing is, my sister for a while called him Popsicle instead for the same reason but my mum's husband didn't like that name so we changed it to Creamsicle. (I had been calling him Creamsicle already).

He was very friendly when he was a kitten. I remember he used to love to try to climb up my leg to be closer to me when I was just doing stuff in the kitchen like making lunch. He even kept up his 'I will climb Viola's leg' behavior even when he was an older kitten and was too heavy to actually, y'know, climb my leg.

He stayed friendly as he became a young adult cat, too. Obviously, he learned that he was too heavy to do any leg climbing anymore, but he just loved to sleep in people's beds, be on their lap when they were just relaxing and watch TV, etc.

And he was also, generally speaking, friendly with our other cats. Naturally, he got along really well with his brother Morris (who, by the way, recently got his BALLS removed and has to stay indoors for a while while he heals) because of course he did, they were siblings and good friends.

It wasn't all perfect, of course he had his spats with Tigger (but they got along outside just fine) and, being an unfixed boy cat, he would sometimes try to dominate younger boy cats to let them know who was boss and also mount female cats - who would make it clear that he needed to FUCK OFF by crying and eventually pulling away from him and swiping. Of course, the orange idiot often wouldn't get the message and would try again guaranteed within a couple minutes.

But despite all his changes as he grew up from being a tiny and playful kitten to a very dignified young adult cat, one thing remained the same about Creamsicle:
Sometimes, he looked really silly while he slept.

Just look at these last two photos. Him when he was only a few months old as a kitten and him...only a week ago...

He may have gotten bigger, but he also stayed looking silly. A very slight little blep. Pure bliss and relaxation because he felt totally safe and comfortable where he decided to sleep.

Because of course he would, our house is completely safe for cats. There's no predators or dangers to them inside. Their worst dangers are themselves when they're stupid and fall off a cabinet and are like '????' for a few seconds before going back to cat stuff.

A habit he developed somewhat recently was he loved being outside. Of course, he was an indoor/outdoor cat but no I mean he came to really loved being outside. But he had his particulars: he had to go out the back door. It doesn't matter if we'd later see him in the front yard relaxing in the grass, he'd go out the back door.

And if he wanted back in? Once again, it'd be at the back door. And if he was waiting and saw you pass by - he'd let you know by meowing at the door to get your attention. It didn't matter what time it was - if he wanted in, he wanted to be let in.

And, as usual for cats, sometimes he'd come in and a few minutes later decide 'I want outside again'.

He'd do this whenever he felt like it. I'd have times where I'd have to let him in at 9pm, 10pm, 11pm, one time I woke up to go the bathroom at a bit past 4am and as I headed back - guess who was there meowing to be let in at 4 in the damn morning?

Oh but if he was inside at night though and wanted to go outside? Oh, he wouldn't come and beg me to let him out - that'd be too easy. No, he'd always go to my sister and meow at her until she woke up and let him out.

Didn't matter if he thought I was OK to meow at to let him inside (or would let him outside when he went to the back door and meowed to be let out) or how many times I gave him pets and cuddles. Nope, it had to be my sister who let him out, for some reason. Even if I was literally awake and he had just come in and saw me and would have known I was awake.

At the end of it all though, it's just unfair. All he wanted was to go outside and get some fresh air. That's it. He did not deserve what happened to him and I miss him so much. I want him back. I never even got to say goodbye to him. None of us did because we had no idea this would happen. I want it to not have happened, I want Creamsicle back. I want to give him pets and hugs and tell him how he's such a cute baby he is and tell him how I remember when he was a small kitten. I want Creamsicle back more than anything right now.