"It's just a cat" - coping with those that don't get it.

June 18th 2013 was just another typical Tuesday.

I woke up to the sound of my Burmese cat, Eva, purring next to me as she slept with her body full length between my wife and I. The morning followed a well established routine. My wife went ot the bathroom first, pushing the door to but leaving it ajar. Eva ran at the door and threw herself at it, pushing it wide open. She then sat in front of my wife and purred whilst my wife laughed. Just another tuesday. I went downstairs with Eva on my shoulders. I told her I loved her. I told her I would buy her some fresh fish for her tomorrow as it was her second birthday. I thanked her for helping me through a terrible time in my life. I watched my wife play with her.I fed her, and kissed and stroked her goodbye. After my day's work I came home and waited for Eva to come home from another day in the British Sunshine. She loved to be outside even though it is so dangerous for Burmese. I couldn't keep her inside so just gave up and let her live the life she wanted. Just another Tuesday.

And then it wasn't just another Tuesday.

There was a knock at the door. I looked through the kitchen window and saw our neighbour, with a stranger, both with serious looks on their faces. And I knew. I knew the most intense relationship I had ever had with an animal was over. I knew that she had been ripped from me. Thirty minutes later I buried her in our field. I was screaming in hatred at a God I didn't believe in. I had survived the terrible trauma of infidelity in my marriage only through the unconditional love of Eva. She had sat with me whilst I twice contemplated suicide, batting me with a paw until I gave up the idea, at least for that night. I owed that cat my life, and I had sworn I would spend every day of her life thanking her and making her feel loved. I swore to her every night I would do my best to keep her safe, and I would never hurt her. And I failed. Utterly. She coped with me at my most depressed, and when I was finally ready to embrace life and start paying her back, she was killed. I wailed. I screamed. I beat the ground with my fists and the unfairness of it. How dare God punish an innocent and beautiful cat, and take away her life so early.

For days I lived as a zombie. It was if someone had taken all the color out of the world. All the light. They had taken all the taste out of food, the humour out of company. Then someone took me aside one day and said the following words.

"Pull yourself together. It was only a cat"

For a fraction of a fraction of a second I seriously considered investigating whether I could completely unscrew his head. The rage inside me was palpable. Just a cat? Just a bloody cat? Had I lost complete touch with reality? Was I completely out of control and grieving something that was an inconsequential animal? I said something fairly abrupt and unsuitable for a family forum such as this and walked away. What I suggested he do to himself was probably illegal, and certainly physiologically impractical.

When I had calmed down I realised that from the perspective of a non cat owner, we must seem like a weird bunch. To them, a cat is no more consequential than a fly. If you kept one as a pet you might miss it for a while, but there is no need to get upset about it. It's just a cat.

It's because they don't get it. They do not understand the depth of the relationship it's possible to have with a cat. So I'm writing this to help you understand in your loss than your grief is justified. It's real. It's valid. It's normal. This is because your relationship with your cat was unique in so many ways. 

Firstly, it's private. All relationships are private to a degree. No-one understands how much I love my wife. They don't see us together in the privacy of our home. They don't see how she can make me laugh in the worst of situations, and how we can do anything together and have fun. People do see us laughing and joking together. They do see us walking hand in hand. They do see us talking over a candlelit meal. Our relationship was private, but out there for the world to see. My relationship with Eva was utterly private. No-one heard my daily oaths to her. No-one listened to the silly song I used to sing to her every night as she purred on my chest. When I walked in the back garden with Eva at my side, no-one else saw. When she did something daft and looked to see if I was watching, no-one else saw the look that passed between us. when I sat on the floor and contemplated ending my own life, no-one saw the paw hit my hand again and again until my attention shifted to her. I don't care what people say about anthropomorphism. That cat knew, and she saved my life. Hundreds, thousands of moments, shared between Eva and I and now remembered only by myself. My grief for eva was so intense, as yours is for your cat, precisely because that relationship so was private, so intense. Everyone on this forum will understand just how intense that relationship was, just how much you loved your cat. But only you really get it, because that relationship was between you and your cat. Treasure that. Recognise how precious that was, even if it was always going to be too short lived. 

Secondly, it's unconditional. I never had an argument with Eva. She never threw a tantrum. We didn't refuse to talk to each other. I didn't sulk. She didn't say something she later regretted. I never insulted her. She never threw anything at me. Sometimes I gave her attention, and sometimes I didn't. Sometimes she was interested in me, and sometimes she wasn't. However, when we did interact there was no hesitation, no holding back. Wow. Think about that. People make careers trying to help others negotiate the intricacies of human relationships, but your relationship with your cat was flawless. Is it any wonder you feel the loss so intensely. Eva didn't care if I was grumpy, or even asleep. If she wanted to show me affection I was getting it. 

Thirdly, the relationship was a core part of your life. Eva was certainly a critical part of my daily life. I alluded to it at the start of this post. In the morning, I expected her to be there because she always was. My wife pushed the door of the bathroom to because she KNEW eva would bash it open and come and say hello. I sang my little song to her every night, and every night she would crawl into the bed between my wife and I and we would all fall asleep. On the night Eva was killed my wife somehow, incredibly, miraculously, held herself together whilst I fell apart. When we went to bed the room seemed cold. The house devoid of life. The next morning I was dead inside with no Eva next to me. We woke up in silence. I had never so distraught. My wife got up, went to the bathroom, pushed the door to, and wailed like a child, utterly devastated. She didn't come out for hours. She was just crying, hoping maybe that somehow, impossibly, that door would open. That little brown cat had formed part of her routine, embedded in her life, just as she had mine. What did we do with our lives now? all our routines didn't work anymore because there was a missing element. This is why you feel the loss to intensely. Your cat was part of your routine, and now you have not just lost a pet, you have lost something that formed a cohesive part of your everyday life. 

So I want you to understand that your grief is very real, and very valid. You are grieving a very real, intense, and private relationship. It will take you a while to come to terms with this, but my advice regarding people that don't understand is to just ignore them. In fact, pity them. You will forever have the knowledge of your relationship with your cat. They will clearly never experience the wonder of such a relationship. In some ways, 11 months later I am still grieving. I still miss Eva, and sometimes I still cry. and that's ok. It wasn't "just a cat". She was my cat, and I will love her forever.

I'm sorry for your loss.

I'm sorry for your loss

Most non-pet owners just don't get it. They don't understand the love and bond we have with our pets. It's best not to be around those people in time of your grief.

Thank you for this post, Gareth. I'm so sorry you lost Eva.    If I hadn't seen the date at the top, I would have read it like it happened yesterday. You have such a vivid memory of that sorrowful day, but also of the beautiful life you shared with Eva.

Luckily, the majority of my friends and family do understand. We are animal lovers. My parents, sister, aunts, uncles, cousins, boyfriend, close friends, etc....all have cats. I have a difficult time associating with people who do not love and respect living things as I do. There are a few people I work with that do not understand, and they make weird faces when they find out I took a personal day off to take one of my cats to the vet. I don't care. I don't care what anyone thinks for all the reasons you explained above. 

I'm so sorry about Eva. What a beauty, and it's so touching to hear the impact she had.

It's hard for non-animal lovers to understand the stance of animal lovers, especially at such sensitive times. I was in high school when my English teacher - my favourite at the time, actually - was conversing with me about pets. She has a dog, and she treats her like her child. I feel the same way about my birds. Earlier that year, my lovebird had died in an accident and it was honestly completely my fault. I rushed her to the emergency vet, where she died, and I had the little one cremated and brought her ashes home to place on the mantle where she used to stand. Teacher said "really? why? it's just a bird". Dismissed my emotions. Brushed it off completely. No ****s were given.

I wanted to be, and still am completely furious with her that she could think that just because they're smaller and find the security of a cage instead of free-roaming dangerous human homes, or possibly can be more easily "disposed" that any animal would be lesser than the complete love of my, or anyone's life. My parents, who while they love animals tend to distance themselves, see me at my worst when any of my pets are suffering and they understand. Most of my friends are pet lovers and fully understand because they love as dearly and as passionately as we do. These are beings we give our love, who give us love, and whose care we build into our lives. It is quite literally a part of you.

Try as I may to understand how people can say "it's just a ______", I can't, and unfortunately I can't even bring it upon myself to not be angry at them. I just feel like at best, even if a fish dies (I was a wreck when my fish died too), people could have the common courtesy and show some empathy when you have no choice but to surround yourself with them. I guess if I'm going to be the better person, I feel bad for people like that, who have never had the privilege of loving so deeply and giving so wholly to a companion animal.

The tears were streaming down my face as I read your beautiful testimonial to the love you shared with your precious Eva. I guess I just wanted you to know I felt the same emotions and went through the same actions as you did. My Chrissy was killed by a car too, she followed me into the street and I didn't know it...... the guilt and the suffering has been terrible in the last 1 1/2 years. I have flashbacks of seeing her hit even now. I received a lot of support from my daughter and most people, my husband was wonderful even though he was suffering himself. But you are right some people will never understand the bond that exists for our furry loved ones. I've always tried to help on this forum, if by no other way just to let them know they are not alone in their suffering. I've always said " our hearts do not know the difference between a human and a furry loved one when we lose them, it just breaks".

Bless you for having the capacity to love so deep, even though it required you to grieve so deeply when Eva left you alone on this earth. Just remember, she would not want you to be so sad, but to rejoice in the love you two shared. Thank you so much for your thoughts, you cannot begin to heal until you openly express your grief. embrace the pain, and accept the burden you were given. Be gentle and patient with yourself, it takes a long time to heal a broken heart. Please take care......

I used to be one of those "Its just a cat" people, even though I had lived with and had to abandon one* when I was very young (yes, I was capable of that then - its complicated - to this day I still see no other way it could have been handled by me at the time - so the first thing I did when I accepted the responsibility of guardianship was to arrange to have a cat god parent should something happen to me because of fragile health in case rehoming was needed - but I digress).

I grew up in a pet unfriendly home and so I have never been an "animal lover," but I knew it was time for me to bring a cat into my life and care for a companion. Since I've had him (and later his sister), I've come to understand that they are not just cats/pets. When I had to leave him at the vet for an EKG I suddenly experienced a lonliness I never felt before, could this be love?

So now I totally "get it," and you said it so eloquently. There is a depth to this relationship, this bond of unconditional love that is greater than the sum of its parts. Thank you for sharing. I will never look at a "pet" (whom I now call a companion) the same way I did before accepting my two best friends into my life.

*Please don't judge, even my animal loving friends accept and even agree to the reason. Breaks my heart NOW and 35 years after. I've totally changed. Some day I may share the story because I often see the question asked "How could they...?" 

I'm so sorry for your loss.  Eva was beautiful.  The pictures are lovely and thank you for sharing them.  Someone said something so ugly when my kitten died years ago when my kitten died that I will never forget.  Some people just do not understand.  Please express my condolences to your wife, as well.  And take care of yourselves.    

Thank you so much for sharing your feelings and love for Eva with us.   My heart goes out to both you and your wife.  I know you miss her and though she is not with you in the way you would like her to be, she is still with you.  It is a crushing blow to lose such a family member, friend and, in many ways, an angel.  If people can't understand what a great loss it is, that is their problem and I think I would be safe in saying they have never know the unconditional love a cat bestows on their owner.  I lost my Sam in 2002 and if I am talking about him to someone, there will still be tears and an empty feeling in my heart.   Maggie, who I had adopted several years prior to keep him company as I worked 12 hour shifts, was my saviour.  It took me a long time to come to grips with losing my friend.  Then in 2010 when I had to say goodbye to Maggie, it hit me all over again with some extra punches because she and Sam had been close.  I will say my vet was great.  They let me spend some time with her and two Kleenex boxes later, I held her in my arms while she passed, as I had done with Sam.  Once again, I did have another saviour in a cat named Pepper whom I had adopted to keep Maggie company.  I have Sam's ashes and Maggie's ashes on my mantle along with a picture of them.  I swore this had to be it, I just couldn't get another cat and as I was retiring, I could keep Pepper company.  But that was not to be either.  I have always had rescue cats and it was as it Sam and Maggie were there in spirit telling me I had room in my heart to love another cat in need.  Through my tears and feelings of guilt, I adopted Emily.  What is great is Maggie knew I was devastated when I lost Sam, and Pepper knew when I was devastated at losing Maggie and even though it is a loss for them also, they came to be with me.   I still love my Sam and Maggie even though they are only with me in spirit.  I love my Pepper and Emily with all my heart and though people don't understand why I work my schedule around them or take them with me when I go to my sisters, I don't care.  They wouldn't leave their children alone and I won't leave my cats for more than a few hours.  Well, I have almost worked my way through my Kleenex box so I will finish off by saying thank you again Gareth and God Bless.

This story has touched me so that I'm literally bawling!!!
Eva was beautiful!!!!
I know people that have pets and that's all they are to them but to a true animal lover they are more then that! I have battled depression and I can honestly say that my furbabies are my life and without their love life would be meaningless. They love us unconditionally unlike humans who are usually passing judgement.
Thank you for sharing your story.