Melonfarmer

I still think about my cat every day and feel a little sad and sick, nearly four months later. Got a new washer/dryer unit, with the dryer up on top - much more difficult for a cat to get into. Why didn't I do this years ago? Wish I'd thought about how to make my home as close to zero accident when it comes to pet and human life. The old dryer is still here; I see it every day until I figure out what to do with it.

Real love also means you recognize your pet is suffering, going downhill, or having many more bad days than good. It took me a long time and several cats to get to the point where I could understand that the only reason I was keeping them alive was for me and my inability to let them go. Good advice I've seen in other forums is, "better one week too early than a day too late." One of my cats, Lucy, taught me that. She had kidney disease and for over two years her health was a rollercoaster. Finally she was at the point where she wasn't eating, hiding out in her cubby in the bedroom for about 5 days. I decided that *this* was probably it and made the appointment with her vet. Left for work, then came back in the afternoon to take her. But as soon as I opened the front door, there she was, laying in the living room. She'd probably gotten up, made her way out and died not long after I left. Her position looked like she had been in pain, and unfortunately rigor mortis had set in. For years I carried that last image of her, along with the guilt of not being brave enough to let her go before it got bad. Don't make the same mistake.

Another one of my cats passed away last week, although this time it was expected. What else is going to happen this year? I dread thinking about it.

Speaking with the grief counselor helped a lot. I'd recommend it to anyone who is hurting. Normally there are several free options available at the shelters around here, there are pet loss groups who used to meet weekly before the pandemic. But also being able to blurt out, cry, lay all the emotions out on the table privately was good. She let me talk at length about my cat, his personality and our life together. I felt able to honor him despite what happened. She said what she's seen in her practice is, the pet's death is usually not the only thing going on. Often it's another event layered on top of other emotional events or situations. She herself related the long-ago story of her letting her cat out and it getting fatally hit by a car. She said, what I must try to do is first, be a friend to myself. As a good friend, what support would I offer or say? Learn to interact with myself this way, and often. The other important thing she said was, my goal should be the guilt turns into regret. Eventually. With work. Today I opened up the package with the little medallion I'd ordered for my cat's box of ashes. It has his picture. I affixed it to the box, and took the opportunity to add my letter and another keepsake to the box that already includes his collar and certificate of cremation. I am sad all over again. I don't know how these feelings of utter sadness and wishing things were different ever change into regret.

I'm so sorry. As if the loss of pets wasn't enough, we have to deal with this awful pandemic. I hope Suki will be able to come home soon.

LittleDogMacy, how are you doing? Your experience sounded traumatic and swift. So many thoughts about regret. Interestingly, a pet grief counselor told me this week that turning guilt into regret is a positive step. I hope you've recovered and been able to make peace with the passing of your sweet Macy.

I tell you what I learned along the way. I had a cat who was diabetic, had CKD, also treated for hyperthyroidism. She had been abandoned at an apartment complex and I took her in. She was probably already a senior but I wasn't sure. After I'd had her about 5 years, I got the chance to go on an island vacation for 3 weeks, all paid. I was a little worried because my cat had been peeing on the bed and needed insulin twice a day, but I found a pet sitter to care for her. Had a great time. About 3 weeks after getting back, she started losing weight rapidly and threw up dark red, grainy vomit. Where she used to love having her belly rubbed and being close to me, she would move away when I touched her stomach and started hiding under the bed. That was the beginning of the end. She would spend more time in intensive care than at home. And then, 4 months after my vacation, the attending vet at the specialty hospital called and said, "You really need to get here now and let her go." I could tell he was a little angry, thinking I'd kept her alive for far too long. The back story of course, is that the internist had been feeding me false hope day after day until I got that call. I drove as fast as I could to say goodbye. My takeaway? Had I known my kitty was only going to live for a few more months, I never would've gone on vacation. I felt robbed of the three weeks I could've had with my sweet girl. I'm still learning and trying not to do regrettable things, obviously not very successfully since I'm here in this forum.

Have you seen any of the kittens since? I know this is a late reply but can you put extra hay or insulation in your shelters just in case?

How are you doing? Will having Suki back bring you peace? She was so beautiful inside and out and I am so sorry for your loss.

My heart goes out to you on the loss of your sweet Cookie. If guinea pigs are still considered rodents, then I can sympathize completely. When I was about 11, I had a pet rat named Mousey. He was so smart! He'd come when we called his name, even when outside in our yard, and would gently nibble on us and was so playful and inquisitive. Mousey didn't live a long time but we treasured the time we had with him. I think you're experiencing the should've could've guilt that always comes with the loss of pet due to illness. As MartyT said, you're not a veterinarian, or clairvoyant. But you did give Cookie a wonderful life. And now she's taught you something you can use for the rest of your life with your companion animals. A grief counselor gave me some good advice recently. When you're ready, try seeing yourself as a friend. What support or advice would that friend say to you? Have the conversation as often as you need. If you find it hard to forgive yourself, work towards turning your guilt into regret. Little by little. It will take some time, and everyone's grief has its own timeline. I'm working through this process myself.

Did you find out what happened to her?

When our beloved pets are in such pain, with no promise of resolution, the answer is clear. Releasing their poor bodies is the kindest thing we can do. We can't let our loved ones suffer. I'm so sorry on the loss of your precious boy.

Yesterday I dreamed my cat came back from the dead. He was in the same position as when I retrieved him and lay him gently on the counter, I kept stroking his head and then he moved and stretched as if he had been taking a nap. I was so happy. In the dream I was thinking to myself, I'm so glad I didn't take him to the crematory yet. Then I woke up. Still not sleeping and eating much. My life is different, hollow. I know I can't change anything but don't see any way around feeling 100% responsible anyway. I killed my child. Will be speaking with a pet grief counselor tomorrow.

KayC, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend or disrespect anyone or anything said here. I came to this forum basically to confess what actually happened and try to come to terms with what I did. My partner and friend are the only people who know. With others I've been silent about the details because I have so much shame, guilt and self-hatred. What I want is something I can't have, to turn back time.

Knowing this has happened to so many other people doesn't make me feel better.

MartyT, thank you for replying. I'd like to read the articles but but when I click the links they go to my personal blogger account. I tried signing out of blogger and clicking the links but Google insists I log back in and I can't get any further.

I woke up feeling sad and teary today. Reading another person's year-long thread, with many letters, poems and song lyrics to her dog, made the hurt fresh again. Tomorrow I pick up my cat's remains. A part of me doesn't want to because it's another step into this painful reality I'm living through. I've been doing the best I can to stay really busy and distracted and am not really sleeping or eating. I feel dead. A friend of ours said I need to cry and scream, to go deep into the grief in order to get past it. I don't know about that. I think if I go deeper I'll probably hurt myself; no punishment will be harsh enough to assuage my guilt or redeem me. That is the truth I'm trying so desperately to avoid.

I read the whole post and am touched by the obvious love you had for V and the enormous sense of loss over her death. I just lost one of my cats a few days ago through a terrible and tragic accident, so I feel your pain acutely. It is truly awful to go through several diagnoses until you finally get to the one vet who speaks frankly about your pet's condition. Of course, by then it's usually time to say goodbye and that bluntness releases so much emotion, while dashing any hopes you had left. You did everything you could and V knew she was loved. I'm so sorry her life was cut short. I can heartily recommend, when you're ready, to channel your grief into volunteering, fostering or even getting another cat, to honor V and her life. It really does help a lot in recovering emotionally.

Thank you. Tears are falling as I write my grief letter. It's going to take a long time to feel normal. Maybe once his ashes arrive and we have a little ceremony there will be some closure. Maybe. A LETTER TO MY CAT I AM SO SORRY. At this moment I am wracked with guilt and despair over your death. Obliterated. Can’t eat, can’t sleep. The guilt is crushing my chest. I’m screaming with grief inside. I feel like a part of me has died. We knew how you liked to hang out in the dryer and the other appliances. We knew it. And in a matter of minutes, years of everything we’ve been through and built on was destroyed. I hurt so much, knowing this horrible tragedy wouldn’t have happened if I’d been paying attention to you rather than just trying to get dinner on the table. I want to forgive myself for my carelessness but it will be hard. Yesterday, I confessed that I’d failed you, as I held you and stroked your head and little ears for the last time. I can barely hold it together thinking of the terror and suffering you endured before you died. I'm so angry that it's a struggle not to punish myself. If there was anything I could do to turn back time or bring you back, I would gladly do it. I can’t believe you’re really gone. I keep thinking I see a figure jump down from the subwoofer, or expect to see you snuggled into the cushion or the cat bed or the window perch. Do you remember when I had to go on a business trip and when I got back, you ran around so crazy with happiness that I had to adopt you? That memory is one of my most cherished. Will you forgive me? I think you would. I always knew in your heart that you were a good cat. You turned out to be the best cat anyone could’ve ever been blessed with. I want to thank you for teaching me so much about cats and how not to give up because of bad behavior. I use what you taught me every day. Someday I may forgive myself. But there's a huge hole in my heart that cannot heal. I miss you so much my heart aches. It's all my fault, and I'll be sorry for the rest of my life. I loved you more than anything in this world. I can't wait to see you again at the Rainbow Bridge.

A little over 24 hours ago, we sat down for a late dinner. We were also doing laundry and one of us had put some wet clothes into the empty dryer and turned it on before sitting down. After finishing dinner I started hearing a clunking sound from the dryer, like there was a shoe or something in it. I immediately freaked out and wondered where our boy was. Unfortunately, when I opened the dryer I discovered his hot, lifeless body amongst the clothes. Our cat was 9 years old, a rescue I'd had since he was just a few months old. Mean and fractious, he sent me to urgent care many times and was so dangerous I ended up adopting him myself. But in the last 5 years he'd transformed into a great cat who embodied hell and heaven in one body. Mischievous and full of fun, he loved being hoisted in the air upside down and using me as a scratching post. He was obsessed with hanging out in the dryer, the microwave, the dishwasher, cupboards. We knew this. I have many pictures of him sitting in appliances from when he was a kitten up until now. People who knew his street urchin-to-suburbanite story followed him on social media, cat lovers who enjoyed his pranks and everyday events for years. What do I say to these people while I'm reeling with disbelief and trauma myself? We're horrified at what happened. Trying to process but with so much guilt and sadness. I feel numb, sick, with a hard lump in my chest. I'm afraid to close my eyes and wonder why didn't I do this or that so this tragedy could never have occurred. I feel like we're the worst pet parents in the world and am sickened to think of what he went through. In half an hour we literally lost the center of our family. Every room in our house carries evidence of his being. I still can't believe he's gone, even after holding him and stroking his ears for the last time at the crematorium. How do we get past this? We've had so many pets and fosters over the years and nothing like this has ever happened. This was by far the most f****d up thing that's ever happened in my life. Our unique, special boy was such a monumental part of our lives. Right now this burden of guilt, this heavy thing in my chest, feels like it will be with me forever.