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Thor

King of Everything

By Katelyn Virginia HarnischPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
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Thor, caterpillaring.

Thor was the God of Thunder, sleeping weird, and trying to steal the breath of mere mortals. He finally succumbed to the pressures of life in the Summer of 2019. He was a brave, young sir. All hail the Thor.

Thor was the runt of the litter. That part of him was a vital part of his personality: he was a feline representation of myself. He was shy, dedicated to his loved ones yet pretty nervous about standing up to bullies, kind-hearted, funny, quiet but adorable when he spoke up, and he was damn good looking. Thank

In his hay-day, Thor brought home the most delicious treats: snakes, baby birds, many, many baby rats and mice, a variety of worms, etc. Incidentally, he had a very diverse pallet, or maybe it was that he assumed I was the one who needed that miscellany. Because, as it turns out, he was an expert at being a sort of “fox in the hen house”.

He would climb over the fence to the neighbor’s yard and I would wake up to a vast assortment of presents. I set aside a basket in an attempt to make a sort of cornucopia of his vegetarian treasures. At one point I has amassed a collection of walnut shells, banana peels, an entire head of cabbage, and several halved egg shells. The fact that he carried those so delicately over a fence to leave for me deserves some sort of medal.

There was one day, I went to the mini mart and was away for roughly ten minutes. In that short amount of time a banana peel appeared on my bed. I started to have a slight crisis.

“Did I not remember that I ate a banana?!”

“Did I eat said banana and then put the peel on the bed because I’m just that bad at stuff?!”

“Do I have a cat?!”

“Oh... I have a cat.”

“Well thank goodness because now I can only get away with being slightly unbalanced.”

Thor did many things for me. He knew when something wasn’t right, and when I didn’t want to be touched he tried his best to crawl up into my face, and although I hated him for it at the time I know now that he was just doing his best in love and support.

Except when he put tiny baby birds in between my legs while I slept on the couch.

“Not cool, Thor.”

“Those tiny babies can’t even open their eyes, and here you are stealing them out of their bed like an even more sadistic Grinch and then giving them to me as if I would delight in living out some sort of Disney version of The Godfather.”

“Nope, Thor. Nah. Hell no, sir.”

That whole cabbage thing impressed the hell out of me, and when he brought me snakes I giggled because the boyfriends screeched and Thor and I made it a sort of inside joke. Even that one time he made friends with a bat was fantastic.

If he were still with me he would have thrived at the beach. He would dance in the sand, kick around all the little sand creatures, and sat near the sea with me.

If only I had ever found his body.

This fine sir deserved a Viking burial. No less. He was a warrior, despite his small frame. He protected those who needed protection. He loved those who needed love or wanted to give it in return.

People say cats don’t have as much insight or dedication as dogs. I disagree. Thor was the most caring, loving soul I have ever encountered. When he looked you in the eye you knew there was a conversation happening.

cat
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About the Creator

Katelyn Virginia Harnisch

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