L.A. Weekly: So, do you have a cat?
Morrissey: I’ve had many, many, many.
L.A. Weekly: But you’re on the road.
Morrissey: Yes, it’s — I’ve had many, and many have passed away.
L.A. Weekly: That’s the worst part.
Morrissey: Horrendous, horrendous. It’s worse than a human passing away.
L.A. Weekly: Is it?
Morrissey: Yes, it really is.
L.A. Weekly: Why?
Morrissey: Because you feel the cat doesn’t fully understand. They’re looking to you, they’re relying on you to get them through this, and you can’t . . . I’ve been in certain situations where I’ve had to terminate the life for the benefit of the cat and the pain is too much to bear. It’s insufferable. Because even as they get the final needle, they’re purring and they’re loving you and . . .
L.A. Weekly: I know, it happened to me, my dog, too. It was awful, because they gave him the shot of ketamine, so he became paralyzed, but he was still conscious and he couldn’t . . . then I thought, oh God, now where’s his spirit, because he doesn’t understand what happened?
Morrissey: And he is just assuming that if he is sitting next to you, he’s going to be okay.
L.A. Weekly: Was your cat maimed?
Morrissey: No, but he was very, very old, and he was arthritic, and he couldn’t go to the toilet properly and I would have to take him to the toilet, I’d have to do everything, but he was very, very happy, and as long as he was with me, he was thrilled to death. So, I held him at the last moment when they inserted the needle and, uh . . . I cried for hours and hours and hours. This sound came out of me, this sound of despair when he went, and I’d never heard it before.
L.A. Weekly: Wow!
Morrissey: Because I thought I’d be — I thought I could completely handle his death and I’d be fine. I’d look after him, I’d make sure everything was okay, and I’d make sure that his transition was as easy and comfortable as possible. And I howled.
L.A. Weekly: I mean, I still have moments where I grieve again, out of the blue — does that happen to you?
Morrissey:Of course! Of course! You miss your pets. You miss Sir Doo-Dah or whatever his name is . . . You miss them and you feel for them, and my cat was an incredible character. He wasn’t merely a cat, he was beyond human. He had the most incredible personality, an enormous personality, and as tough as, as they say, old boots, and I still miss him, I really still miss him. Sorry, I’m boring you stiff . . .
L.A. Weekly: No! I want to talk forever.
Morrissey: Might not be long enough.