Remembering Kojo

I woke up this morning thinking of Salem and Rowan. I had a dream about them last night. All I remember is that they were watching over us; just as I'd imagined they'd be. Our guardians. I woke up like it was just another ordinary day; college; mocks next week; revision to do. I certainly didn't wake up thinking that I was at the beginning of another event that would completely rock my world. I was already late getting ready for college when I heard my Dad say, distressed "I think it's him. I think it's Kojo." Kojo? What was going on? Something doesn't feel right. I listened with bated breath, to the tears, the anguished speech. "We need to go and get him?" "Is he still alive?" My body shook. This can't be happening, but it was. I collapsed on my floor, I stopped what I was doing and heard my mother's cry of "Not Kojo" before tears wracked my form and I completely broke down. It all happened within twenty minutes of waking up. It felt more like a dream than reality. And I sincerely hoped it was. It wasn't. My Dad, and a lovely woman from further down the road, carried him in, wrapped in a pink towel. Gone. My little Kojo. Killed by a car in the night, just like his sister.

After the initial shock, I carried on getting ready for college, but it didn't feel like I was moving. It felt like I was trapped inside somebody. I didn't know what to do. If I didn't walk up to the bus stop now, I would miss the bus. Still, I persisted. When I finally got downstairs, I stopped. Put my bag down, and realised what I was doing. I couldn't go to college now. I was kidding myself. So I sat down and thoughts threatened to overcome me. Kojo? Surely not? What is happening? Just last night, he was led on my bed, trotting around as per usual and purring. I kissed him goodnight on the head. That was the last I ever saw of him alive. Now, here he was, a mirror to the two cats that had come before him, taking one last rest on the chair in the front room. My stomach was churning. My thoughts were racing. How did it happen? When did it happen? But most importantly, why did it happen? Why does this keep happening to us?

It's a question I will never find an answer for. It was his birthday on the 19/1/20. 1 year old. Just as his sister would be if she was still here. When you're a pet owner, you automatically feel responsible for any peril they might find themselves in, even if it's far from your fault. My guilt persisted. We brought Kojo and Rowan to our house in May, and within 10 months, they had both died. You begin to think about how you could have prevented this tragedy. This pain. For them and for us. But it happened. They came here. And now they've gone. To a much better place I hope, as in the words of Larkin "they were too good for this life."

As you can probably imagine, we were all speechless for hours. I didn't go to college and my parents didn't go to work. When I could muster enough energy to move, I went to go and clean some of the blood off Kojo, simply not being able to bear it. Again, I still felt as if my body was moving like a robot. Every time I looked at his face, it didn't feel like him. It couldn't be him. But, there was always that little voice dragging me back to reality in the back of my head saying "it is." I finished cleaning him up as best I could, and left him on the chair with the fire on. None of us knew what to do next. Do we keep ourselves busy, distract ourselves? Go to sleep? Do nothing? None of those felt right. I didn't know what to distract myself with. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, and doing nothing means being left with my thoughts. I just couldn't believe it. There's no more emphasis that I can give, apart from repeating that. Three cats lost. Only a year gone by.

Kojo was a character; much like Salem, in more ways than one. I thought Kojo was here, not to replace Salem, but to remind us of him. So that his spirit could live on. The way he purred, the way he looked, the way he acted, it was so reminiscent of Salem, and was only becoming increasingly more obvious as the weeks passed. Only on Sunday night, he spent hours in the dining room with a pom-pom ball, kicking it around, skidding around and spooking Kurt in the process! So lively. He used to come in and out of the cat flap during the day; never resting or tiring, just making sure that we still knew he was there, and hoping to get a few morsels out of us if possible. He'd venture into the bathroom a lot (like Salem), fascinated by it, I think. Who knows? Kojo got on with all of us too. He'd play games with us. Run off when we asked him if he wanted a cuddle; provoked Kurt in a playful way, which led to them chasing each other up the stairs. They really grew to love each other. Sometimes I would look at Kurt and think "He's seeing Salem." That's what it was like. It was like having Salem back. But more than that. Kojo was his own cat too. In no way was he a copy of Salem, and I grew to love him immensely because he carried both his own and Salem's characteristics.

I don't know what Kurt is going to do now. He didn't get on very well with Rowan. But Kojo. He grew to love. When Salem died, Kurt was overcome with as much grief as us. It was horrible to see. Slowly but surely, when we brought Kojo and Rowan home, Kurt started to come back into his former self. He even became more lively! It gave him his youth back. He was always used to having another cat in the house. Now he won't ever have that again. We've decided, as a family, that we cannot get another cat whilst we live on this road. We've noticed, recently, that it's started to become a lot busier than usual. People parking on the golf course side of the road; people still speeding down the road, when they should be going at 20. What can I do about it? Shall I stand up with a banner that reads "Your actions destroy lives?" I can't do that. It's not just our road. There will be plenty of other roads where people will go too quickly. It's not enough. We talked about blocking the garden off after Rowan died. Stopping them going out of it at all. But it wasn't fair on Kurt. Kurt had been going out, up to the golf course and around, for over 7 years. Some might argue that it's fairer to stop him going out if it saves his life. But it's done now. I can't look back at what could have been. One thing's for certain is that when I'm older, I will either have indoor cats that have been that way since birth, or have a big enough garden that is cat-proofed so they can't access any roads. I just don't think I could deal with another loss as painful as this. I wouldn't wish it on any pet owner.

So we continued on with our day, whatever day that was. I was supposed to be at college, but I had emailed to say that I couldn't come in today. I have mocks next week, at probably the most inconvenient time, but what can you do? You can't choose when things happen, just as I couldn't choose to stop Kojo's death from happening. I'm just going to have to face it head on, as I always have done. I love cats. Anyone who knows me will know that. I like cats more than most people. For the past few weeks, I've become even more independent than usual. I've started to enjoy my own company more, partly because I feel that there is peace in solitude, but also because I feel like I don't really fit in anywhere at the moment. It's hard when you feel like that because you feel torn. Feeling torn between what everyone usually does: socialise, or just choosing to take some time to be on my own; to figure some things out. I've never been the most social anyway, and I have no problem doing things differently, so it hasn't been hard. And whilst I still have hope that I will find my place again one day, at the moment, I feel like I'm floating somewhere on my own. The loss of Kojo has only made that worse. Home is the one place I feel safe, secure and happy. Our little family is only small now, but it's my family, and I love them all. We're such a tight unit, and an event as hard as this one will upset us for weeks and months to come. Do I think we'll get though it? Yes. Do I think it will be without its problems? No. We've had one of the worst years of our lives, and yet we've stuck together as a family. I'm happy to say that I have some pride in that.

Rowan obviously needed her brother back to stick by her. She was lonely up there. Missing him. I don't blame her. I know what it's like to miss people. Maybe that's what this is trying to teach me. As the weeks go on, I will continue to miss Kojo; always. I was speaking to a nice woman on the way back from sixth form a few weeks ago, as we were walking past each other and we got into conversation. She lives on my road too. She said something really interesting, and it made me think as I was walking back that day. "Our relationship with others. That's what makes the world turn round, doesn't it?" Is she right? I don't know. She probably is. My relationship with Kojo is what brought me to this grief process. People make us think; animals make us think. They lock onto our memories, and he will be locked onto mine, just as Rowan and Salem are. I'm certainly stronger than I was a year ago. I've knocked back, fought back, and got through so many things that I never thought I could. We're all stronger than we imagine. I will never forget you Kojo, I hope you're happy up there with your sister, and dear Salem, catching butterflies and moths in the sky. Farewell Kojo. Let your spirit shine; you'll forever be a part of us little one.