A second year gone

730 days and counting.  And missing.  And regretting.  Two years ago I accidentally killed my best friend Back.  Given the circumstances everyone says I shouldn't feel responsible, I was only trying to help, but a friend isn't supposed to be responsible for a friend's accidental death.  Posters on this board ask whether you "get over" the loss of a feline friend.  I euthanized Flash in 2010 because he was dying after 16 months of treatment for heart disease -- I accept his death and what I did to him.  For Back, I accept his death because he is gone, but I don't accept my mistake.  I just wish I had done nothing that day.  It's even hard looking at his pics, I feel guilty more than sad.

You loved your cat and wanted to help I am so sorry that you are in anguish. I am certain that your beautiful boy wouldn't want you to suffer. Guilt is such an awful feeling. Have you tried seeing someone about it? I hope that you can forgive yourself.

1) Being cute; 2) Squealing to play fetch while I am holding a rubber band; 3) Squealing to play fetch after bringing the rubber band back; 4) Leaning in for a good scritch behind his ear.

I remember your post from those years back, my Chrissy was gone a year then and I, too, was responsible for her death, she followed me onto a street when I thought she was safe in the yard. I know of the guilt you speak of, I live with it every day of my life. But what happened was a horrible accident, we would never intentionally do anything that would bring harm to those we love. No matter how much we would like to go back and change that day, it will never be and we must go on no matter how hard it is. We do this because we know they would never hold us responsible for causing something we would never have done if we had only known. They love us too much and would want us to go on with our life and be happy again, just like we would want for them if the situation was reversed. I have to purposely concentrate on the good she brought into my life, and how much happiness she brought to my home and family, she was my world. We can't dwell on the end and the guilt we feel, it brings nothing but heartache and we can't allow it to fill and take over our lives, it was such a short time in the course of our lives but changed us forever and took over everything in it. Don't allow guilt and sadness to crush you, think of the good times and the happiness Back brought to you, although it hurts so badly to have them gone, it was still better to have known their sweet love then to have never known them at all. Open your heart again, it is as Back would want, do good in his name and let sunshine fill that heart once more to shine on him, for that is where he dwells now, don't let tears and darkness be his home. I cry with you, I share your guilt and pain, it helps to talk to those who understand, it lets a little of that pain escape by the sharing. God bless you for your loving heart, and for giving that sweet baby such a wonderful life. Back would never hold you responsible, if he can forgive you, then you must forgive yourself. I'll pray for you both.

Two or three times, in the couple weeks prior to the day he died, I told myself when he was having a bad hairball not to put him in the cage while he was dealing with it -- that I must wait until he had expelled it.  The cage was the most terrifying thing to him and he would cry and pee all over himself when put in it.  I knew that putting him in it while he was in distress would be overwhelming, and I didn't realize he had become severely dehydrated (estimated between 7% and 11%).  The signs were there as he had only wanted to drink from the sink faucet rather than his bowl, months earlier a vet tech told me to make sure he got enough water in his diet because they had had difficulty taking blood for a dental (so I added a couple teaspoons of water to his wet food but I think the other cat was eating Back's share), and in the week before his death I noticed completely white, dessicated poops in the litter -- but since both cats seemed fine I didn't think anything of it (though I should have because that's a sign that there is a lack of bile). 

The shock of being put in the cage while in a severely dehydrated state overwhelmed him, and *I* am the one who put him in the cage.  That scream was so horrific and his whimpers were so sad.

The cat I adopted four months later, so that something good would come of the situation, has no idea Back ever existed.  It's kind of funny to me since Back's death is the only reason the new one has a home with me.  He is a nice boy, likes to hang out with me, but we don't have *that* connection.  I don't even have that connection with the cat Back grew up with, even though I originally liked him more than Back and he can be needy at times.  Thing is, as Back grew out of his shell over the years we bonded -- very slowly over time -- and what I saw in him was appreciation of me as a friend rather than as a caregiver.  It was so genuine.  Whereas the other cat would be happy it was time for dinner when I got home from work, Back was happy because I was home -- dinner did not matter -- and he would run around my legs dropping toys at my feet so we could play.  I miss that. 

Such a handsome boy.