So my cat died two days ago. I can't really say it was unexpected. I knew for awhile that she had maybe a year or so left. I took that information and generally made the most of what time I had left, but now that she's gone I am feeling all sorts of things. There is of course the usual regret. There were times where she wanted more pets than I had left in me on a given day. Days where I felt like doing other things than holding her. Looking back, whatever it was that I was busying about with was not really as important as maybe taking that extra moment and holding her. 

Kitty liked to be held. At least she did before things got bad last week. I could tell things were progressing when that changed. There wasn't a whole lot I could have done to prevent it. Bi-monthly blood transfusions averaging to about 5 K a pop unfortunately weren't an option. Even if I had the money I wonder if it would be worth it. You take away the monetary value that somehow we place on a life and what's left is quality. Was kitty happy ? 

For most of her life I would say she was. I heard the expression soul animal for the first time just last week and while I was reluctant to say definitively Kitty was my "soul animal" - i can now in fact confirm, kitty was a soul cat. There's just something about that bond. I don't believe it's a one and done, like I will never be able to have that sort of deep connection with another animal because I know I will and can, but for whatever relationships I have in the future, mine and kitties relationship will be unique. 

I've been through a lot with kitty. Life has changed immensely over the last 12 years, which is how old she was. Kitty was a constant. I would go to work and then home, alone and spend hours upon hours just hanging with kitty. 

It's unfortunate that we never are able to fully grasp just how important something is to us until we lose it. Even when we know and cherish what time we have our minds hide from us the immensity of our emotions. Or at least try. 

I never doubted that I loved kitty. There has never really been much I wouldn't do for her. And that love was something I felt all of the time. So many hours of just togetherness. Not like lost in love or anything like that, but just moments. Very special moments where you could be yourself, pour your heart into something and really be asked absolutely nothing in return. Well . .  Almost nothing.

Kitty liked treats. Loved tuna, yogurt. The underside of her chin scratched as she was held and leaned backwards with her face pointed down at the ground. When she was younger kitty did flips with me. Sadly there came a day where she no longer cared to do that, but there really wasn't a limit to the trust she placed in me. 

One time she got fleas. I was pretty broke at the time and was exploring ways to get rid of her fleas that didn't cost money. I decided a bath would work. Kitty laid on my chest and had all but her head submerged for at least an hour. I thought drowning the fleas would work. It didn't, but what cat lets their person do that for them. Kitty. 

In some ways I think I must have led a pretty sheltered life if a cat dying was like this supreme moment of grief for me. And it's not l have led a sheltered life, at all . . I've basically lost everything. A few times, but holding kitty as the vet pushed those meds in . . I have never felt grief on that level. It was like a movie. Me holding her face, choked up and sobbing.

You'd think that's the hard part and maybe it was, but living without her isn't proving to be easy either. 

When I got home from the vet, she was in a box. I wrapped her in her favorite blanket and then picked a spot in the garden. A nice perch on top of a hill overlooking the bird bath.

I've been at this maker thing now for 15 years and have had my fair share of moments. Burying her was one of them. It's weird how things come together when they do. A confluence of intents magically seeming to all arrive in that magical moment and with that bringing meaning right when you need it the most. I've learn to trust those moments.

I had a lot of those with kitty. At the vet, I really wanted to take her home. I wanted her to die at home. I also didn't want her to suffer though. I remember holding her and speaking to her with intent, wanting to know what she wanted and she was just so chill. She was ready. 

As a maker you learn to deal with strong emotions. We connect to them differently and with emotions this powerful it has been quite the ride. It is  odd because the pain at times is terrible, but that sense of connection and love is so beautiful that it makes all of the grief and requisite sadness honestly worth it. I suppose that's the point though.

Living a life that is worth going through the pain of dying. 

I'm learning a lot through this experience and sometimes I am torn about that. I feel like finding joy in exploring grief is at times almost a dishonor to kitty. I really don't believe that, but it is a peculiar thing to experience. I find myself opening up and being unable to do anything but run straight at it in classic maker form. 

I believe that's it for now. It's a lot to process and deal with. I tend to sort of just go at these things alone, but I am part of a community here and that's what this space is for. Talking the weird stuff out, sharing and exploring things that a lot of people just don't care to explore. 

I attached a photo of kitty. If you have an animal at home, give it a hug for me ❤️

-Nick

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8 hours ago, Nick said:

. I heard the expression soul animal for the first time just last week and while I was reluctant to say definitively Kitty was my "soul animal" - i can now in fact confirm, kitty was a soul cat.

I’m so sorry Nick. 😢❤️ My dog Cleo was my heart dog. She passed away 6 years ago…I grew up with other dogs and didn’t think I would be affected the way I was when she passed, so I know what it’s like (it sucks 🙁) but it does get better with time.  

((hugs)) 

 

 

So sorry Nick for your loss of Kitty, I feel you. Our bond with our cats is very special, a true connection and love shared unequivocally. I understand how you are feeling right now, know it will pass and remember that Kitty is not gone but just moved on..

((hugs))

Belle

A beautiful tribute to Kitty, Nick. And to death, and life. 
((((((hugs))))))

cheri

{{Nick}}

So sorry to hear of your loss. I know how much it hurts right now, but that's nothing compared to the connection you shared. 

In a way sharing this doesn't seem like the right time, but since I was reminded of it, I'll do it anyway. I used to have two cats, they are both gone now but it was interesting how they dealt with seeing me in pain. They both stalked it really effectively but in different ways. My other cat was a sweetheart about it, she'd poke her head at my heart and meow at me. My other cat, she just wouldn't give a shit. She would just stare me down ruthlessly, while going all high and mighty Egyptian goddess on me. There was something really funny about that, after a while it would always bring me great joy. It's difficult to explain, it's just the perspective she provided through our connection struck me that way.

I don't think exploring your grief or even finding joy in it is a dishonor to Kitty. The opposite if anything, cats are curious stalkers.    

Kai 

 @Nick "Living a life that is worth going through the pain of dying."

The grief can show you things, a nugget of knowledge, when you feel ready maybe try this, go out in your garden and really set it free, move the energy of your sadness, move it into the word, into the trees, the ground, the rocks, let your awareness carry it out and touch everything in the world.  Do that with all the will you can muster.  I understand the joy, this movement can be quite joyful.

Then in the empty space where the sadness was you will see something powerful just for you, probably even more gifts of knowledge that relationship created.

C 

I'm sorry for your loss, Nick. Your tribute to her and how she was interwoven into your life is beautiful. I think you also illustrated how the detachment we talk about as Makers doesn't mean, ' not feeling,' I think because we are more detached from the world, we tend to feel emotions with incredible purity and strength, like a child does before they learn how to shut the world out. I think placing her in view of the bird bath was a nice touch. And I think you made the right choice for her to go at that time, to keep her going would have been for you, not for her. And I think being with your pet, in those last moments, giving them comfort, letting them know they are loved is the best you can possibly do in those last moments here- think of her cat energy, returning to the pool, feeling that love and how that love that she brings in with her will enrich that pool for the new kitties coming into our world.

Lorrie 

 

Thank you for sharing this.

Your energy is so beautiful and the love/bond energy you had with your kitty. She could understand you in such a way and you her that is so beautiful.

Loads of hugs and know that is really beautiful this energy.

@Nick I'm so, so sorry for your loss. I have two sweet boy cats, ten years apart, and my older boy is nearing the end of his years. He's 14 now, and still with me, but he's frail and tired and a bit crusty, but no less precious or loving or trusting or empathic. I've been grieving already in anticipation of what's to come. Every time he puts his paw on me if I'm upset or he just wants to be close feels like a blessing and a reminder that I won't always have him. What you shared is so beautiful and relatable. And the story of you holding her in the bath -- it got me. 😭

Many, many hugs. Your Kitty was clearly so deeply loved.

Nick, I just now read this. I've been down this road, too. I'm so, so sorry. The emptiness that happens the first time you come home after she passes. It's like a huge shock. I didn't even realize how deep our connection had been. The awareness of her is suddenly silent.

You did a great deal for and with her, Nick. I guess we all have regrets, though. But I'm here to say, she told you it was ok and that she was ready. And throughout her life she told you how much she loved you in return. It may take some time to process this grief. The best you can do is allow it.

You're a great kitty dad, Nick. The amount of love you two shared was/is amazing.

Love and hugs,

Beth