Coping with the loss of a feline family member
I’ve not been writing much in the last couple of months, and the reason for this is remarkably sad. Within the space of three weeks, two of our feline family members passed away.
It’s taken me some time to feel able to attempt to put in to words the range of emotions that go with such a tragedy, but I’m going to try.
On June the 10th, after attempts to treat a blood clot were initially successful but it became apparent other issues had occurred during the trauma, we had to let our Little Man, Darwin go. Making this decision for a six year old cat who had previously been healthy right up until the trauma to his body is probably one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done in my life. And after the decision is made, and you’ve done what you feel was possibly the only fair thing for the animal you love, recognise as family and vowed to protect come a lot of feelings; very few of them positive. There’s guilt; that you couldn’t help, that you didn’t know they were ill, that you in some way caused the situation to arise. (Grief isn’t rational. It takes no prisoners when you’re consumed with the pain of loss.) There’s anger; that life could be so cruel, so brutal. Regret that you didn’t do all the things you planned to do to make your home the perfect place for them to be; so they knew how loved they were. You convince yourself things like that matter, even when the logical part of your brain knows that the little personality in question loved life, enjoyed every day and wanted for nothing. In short, you punish yourself for something that you ultimately have no control over.
Some people will never understand reacting so extremely to the loss of a cat; those people potentially never reach a point where they view their cat as an actual member of their family. A small individual who has their own quirks and flaws, and makes your life better by being in it.
Three weeks later to the day, on July 1st our oldest feline family member Sage, went in for exploratory surgery on a mass that had been found in her stomach. The mass was discovered to be inoperable stomach cancer. There had been no glaring sign our beautiful girl was this ill; the only subtle clue was alarmingly rapid weight loss which really hit me after she did something entirely out of character and went “walkabout” for an entire day. The mass was discovered at a check up the day after.
Again the decision that is kindest for the animal you love had to be made. Making it more than once in such a short space of time, was beyond description. Not only had we lost our cheeky, mischievous Little Tiger but now we had to feel a new wave of grief in our family for the loss of our adorable, wonderful Little Cat.
Over two months have passed since losing Darwin and I’m still struggling to regain control of my feelings of loss for both my wonderful felines. I get snippets of memories that my mind feels I’m not able to cope with yet and snatches them back, leaving me feel adrift. I sporadically burst into tears when doing a mundane household chore that was infinitely more fun when a small ginger tom decided it was the optimum time to sit on my shoulder, or a sweet, quiet girl decided to keep me company by nestling into the chair next to where I was. The loss of their physical presence and personalities in the house is palpable and I’ve no idea how long it’s going to hurt this way for.
But with the knowledge that the pain of loss is the price to pay for loving comes the absolute certainty of one thing; if the choice was to go through it all again and feel the pain or never have met either of them, I’d still choose the former.
This is for you, Darwin and Sage. Thank you for enriching my life by being a part of it. Thank you for making me happy by just being you and thank you for the unquestionable love and affection I know you both gave us.
Darwin and Sage, enjoying life