Thank you. Right now I am living this story. I've been told not to re-live his last hours, but for now I have to. I have to remember that he was hurting and I had to do what I had to do to relieve his pain. I have to know that what I did was an act of love, which is so hard - to end his life because I loved him. I hope and pray that, as you say, the happy memories will come later. Thank you for these words from your heart.A note for those who have lost a cat, or are worrying about when that moment comes.
When we decide to share our lives with a cat, we are making a decision to break our own hearts. That's not melodrama. At some point, that bundle of fur will get under your skin. It doesn't matter how big and tough you are. I've seen British Army Special Forces soldiers cradling their beloved cats with tears in their eyes, hoping against hope that something will put off that fateful moment when they must part. I've seen busy mothers of five children who rule their household with an iron fist reduced to bawling children because they miss their cat. At some point, that cat will work its magic. Its eyes will connect with yours. Its head will rub against yours. Its heart will connect with yours. At that point, you secretly swear your devotion to the animal. It comes under your protection, and you will sacrifice anything to keep it safe. In return, the cat will share that look with you. The one that says "I love you too". That's a special gift, and unless you have been loved by a cat, it is a meaningless one. But if you HAVE been loved by a cat, then you know the value of that gift. It means that the cat will give you a lifetime of love. They will literally spend their entire life in your company. You will feed them, protect them, keep them warm and safe. And they will give you their entire life.
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Their entire life. That's their commitment. And what is yours? Easy, you commit to the knowledge that at some point in the future you will be given a terrible decision to make. That decision will be the last you make for your cat. That decision will result in a transference of pain and suffering. You will take away all the pain and suffering of your cat, and you will begin a process of pain and suffering yourself. That's the price for the look. When they look in your eyes with love, that terrible decision is the price. It's a moment that all cat owners dread, but a moment that comes to us all.
So should we feel bad when our cat passes on? Of course we should. We are losing someone we loved, and someone that loved us. The grief will be terrible, but it will be transient. It WILL pass. You will then be left with memories. Some of these memories will bring you tears. Some of these memories will make you laugh. But the pain and the suffering will fade.
So when the moment comes, you have to find a strength within yourself. You're about to do something incredible. You're about to give a display of love and devotion rarely equalled. You will be given a decision about whether to allow your pet to suffer and thus save your own pain, or whether to remove all pain and suffering from the cat, and take it on yourself. If the time is right, you will know, and you will make the right decision. And then you should be so proud of yourself. In the midst of your own grief, and suffering, you should take such strength from the knowledge that when the moment came, you decided to choose your cat's welfare in favour of your own. What greater love can any pet owner display?
So for those that think they have to make that decision soon, take strength. Know that your moment has come. The moment where you wrap up all the love and devotion you have for your cat into one incredible moment and do what's right. For those on the other side of that decision, then well done. I'm proud of you, and your cat would be proud of you, too. Your cat is forever pain-free. You are in pain, but I promise it will pass. Don't worry, some of us know how bad that pain is. You are not alone, and we know how much it hurts. It's terrible, but it will pass. Then you will have the memories, which you should treasure.
I like to think one day I will be re-united with my pets. There will be no crashing together as we run towards each other as in the rainbow bridge poem. There will be no kisses. We will simply give each other that look. The look that says "I love you, and now I know how much you love me"
Condolences on losing your girl to that terrible, awful disease. It is especially tragic to lose them at the prime of life. Together, you two conquered the obstacles until she made it past the crucial 1 year mark - few FIP kitties manage to get that far & I congratulate you for it. Your sweet girl survived beyond the frailest kitten stage & knew one year of happiness & joy, the fun of toys, the satisfaction of a good meal, of seeing love for her in your eyes & hearing it in your voice & feeling it in your touch. She knew you and about you in ways that only a cat can perceive; she has returned to the ancestors and those yet to be born. There, her spirit will teach your future cats not yet conceived and someday you will meet a cat so in tune with you, so kindred in spirit & you will know a gift from HERI recently (just today) had to make that decision for my 1 year old baby girl. She got sick with FIP and her health was deteriorating fast. She went two days without eating, couldn't walk straight. I knew then by the looks she gave me when I held her last night, that it was time. We both knew it. I miss her terribly.
<3 ((((((((^^)))))))) <3 Fly free, whole, healthy, and forever Cherished, little angel girl! My heartfelt condolences for your loss. She watches over you until you are reunited in due time.I recently (just today) had to make that decision for my 1 year old baby girl. She got sick with FIP and her health was deteriorating fast. She went two days without eating, couldn't walk straight. I knew then by the looks she gave me when I held her last night, that it was time. We both knew it. I miss her terribly.
Magnificent.A note for those who have lost a cat, or are worrying about when that moment comes.
When we decide to share our lives with a cat, we are making a decision to break our own hearts. That's not melodrama. At some point, that bundle of fur will get under your skin. It doesn't matter how big and tough you are. I've seen British Army Special Forces soldiers cradling their beloved cats with tears in their eyes, hoping against hope that something will put off that fateful moment when they must part. I've seen busy mothers of five children who rule their household with an iron fist reduced to bawling children because they miss their cat. At some point, that cat will work its magic. Its eyes will connect with yours. Its head will rub against yours. Its heart will connect with yours. At that point, you secretly swear your devotion to the animal. It comes under your protection, and you will sacrifice anything to keep it safe. In return, the cat will share that look with you. The one that says "I love you too". That's a special gift, and unless you have been loved by a cat, it is a meaningless one. But if you HAVE been loved by a cat, then you know the value of that gift. It means that the cat will give you a lifetime of love. They will literally spend their entire life in your company. You will feed them, protect them, keep them warm and safe. And they will give you their entire life.
Their entire life. That's their commitment. And what is yours? Easy, you commit to the knowledge that at some point in the future you will be given a terrible decision to make. That decision will be the last you make for your cat. That decision will result in a transference of pain and suffering. You will take away all the pain and suffering of your cat, and you will begin a process of pain and suffering yourself. That's the price for the look. When they look in your eyes with love, that terrible decision is the price. It's a moment that all cat owners dread, but a moment that comes to us all.
So should we feel bad when our cat passes on? Of course we should. We are losing someone we loved, and someone that loved us. The grief will be terrible, but it will be transient. It WILL pass. You will then be left with memories. Some of these memories will bring you tears. Some of these memories will make you laugh. But the pain and the suffering will fade.
So when the moment comes, you have to find a strength within yourself. You're about to do something incredible. You're about to give a display of love and devotion rarely equalled. You will be given a decision about whether to allow your pet to suffer and thus save your own pain, or whether to remove all pain and suffering from the cat, and take it on yourself. If the time is right, you will know, and you will make the right decision. And then you should be so proud of yourself. In the midst of your own grief, and suffering, you should take such strength from the knowledge that when the moment came, you decided to choose your cat's welfare in favour of your own. What greater love can any pet owner display?
So for those that think they have to make that decision soon, take strength. Know that your moment has come. The moment where you wrap up all the love and devotion you have for your cat into one incredible moment and do what's right. For those on the other side of that decision, then well done. I'm proud of you, and your cat would be proud of you, too. Your cat is forever pain-free. You are in pain, but I promise it will pass. Don't worry, some of us know how bad that pain is. You are not alone, and we know how much it hurts. It's terrible, but it will pass. Then you will have the memories, which you should treasure.
I like to think one day I will be re-united with my pets. There will be no crashing together as we run towards each other as in the rainbow bridge poem. There will be no kisses. We will simply give each other that look. The look that says "I love you, and now I know how much you love me"
You are more than welcome. If you needed it, I hope it helped.Magnificent.
Thank you for posting this.
Heartfelt *PRAYERS* for your furbaby, inkysmom . Every day is to cherish.It was very helpful to me when I losty beloved Inky in June 2017. I read it recently and it still made me cry . Now my beloved other cat has cancer, he's doing well at the moment but statistically not many cats live a year with his type of cancer it's only been three months.
But your post is timeless and captures the joys of loving a cat perfectly. I have other animals and love them all, it's a unique relationship. And each cat I've ever had expressed themself a little differently.
Lovey sounds like an amazing cat (as every cat is, but in his own unique way. Strong personality!) My Baby Su, who was born feral, gives hard bites, too. Tarifa gives love bites. And Elvis has been called "a character" by his dad, from whom I adopted him. He is certainly that, and then some!Thank you I'll take all the prayers for him that I can get. He deserves a miracle, all beloved pets do but he's so loving and such a fighter.
I'm watching my dog's best friend who seems to be afraid of cats but also can be possessive about her food. She's also picky and won't eat her food unless it's next to her bed in the bedroom. So both my cats go sniff it and help themselves. Drives her nuts.
Lovey, the cat with cancer, was sniffing her bowl the one time she growled and gave him a warning lunge. I immediately stopped her and my other fierce cat bounded out from under a table hissing and cuffed her and jumped on her. The combination of my correcting her and the attack of Lovey's feisty little brother stopped any future guarding issues from her.
Lovey continued to happily prance around her and help himself fearlessly to anything he wants. He jumps over her, walks right under both dogs stomachs, climbs over them and sits right on them to get closer to me or his favorite pillow.
Vets and lots of staff know how feisty he is about nail trims or giving him medications, especially pills.
He regularly keeps his feisty little brother Ruby in line and reminds him he's in charge. Also in charge of my ninety pound dog and any other dogs I watch.
But my dog goes frantic at the vet when they take Lovey away for even a minute to draw blood. When he's had to stay in the hospital, like he had through a lot of November, feisty Ruby curled in a sad pathetic ball on the foot of the bed and wouldnt move or eat. My dog lay around and wouldn't move or eat or play either.
We all need this loving little guy. He looks like a Maine coon and loves everyone. Dogs, strangers, cats. He races to greet all visitors, climbs around their necks and faces, wraps around their necks and hugs them purring madly and drooling happily over getting love and attention. He'll ride around on your shoulders for hours. He literally sleeps wrapped around my face and neck so I can't breathe.
If I pet another animal he jealously races over and finds a way to squeeze in between so I'm hugging him first.
But I find him cuddled with the other pets too.
He's also the only pet left that's connected to and was around when my mom was alive . He lost all the other pets with me. He loved my last dog. He's said a lot of goodbyes to many beloved loved ones, human and animal, with me. My horses have too, especially my older one, but he's the only one that's lived with me through everything.
And he's relentless with giving love bites that hurt! No matter what I do. I taught him the word gentle. He doesn't care. He does things his way. Just like he fearlessly pushes aside a threatening 65 pound dog while he steals her food. He knows I'll protect him, or his cat brother or my dog will. Or he'll fight her himself if he has to. He'll be nice to vets until they make him do something he doesn't like, like cut his nails or take a pill. And he's going to give love bites no matter what I do.
Dogs and horses usually eventually listen on most things. Cats do what they want no matter how much they love you. He knows he's not supposed to go on counters or tables. I get home and both cats are on the kitchen table looking at me. I say off and Ruby meows loudly to argue about it!View attachment 270865
Thank you for sharing this! Letting my little Rascal go was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I didn’t want him to suffer anymore. His decline from chronic kidney disease was rapid, just 6 short weeks from diagnosis of early stage.A note for those who have lost a cat, or are worrying about when that moment comes.
When we decide to share our lives with a cat, we are making a decision to break our own hearts. That's not melodrama. At some point, that bundle of fur will get under your skin. It doesn't matter how big and tough you are. I've seen British Army Special Forces soldiers cradling their beloved cats with tears in their eyes, hoping against hope that something will put off that fateful moment when they must part. I've seen busy mothers of five children who rule their household with an iron fist reduced to bawling children because they miss their cat. At some point, that cat will work its magic. Its eyes will connect with yours. Its head will rub against yours. Its heart will connect with yours. At that point, you secretly swear your devotion to the animal. It comes under your protection, and you will sacrifice anything to keep it safe. In return, the cat will share that look with you. The one that says "I love you too". That's a special gift, and unless you have been loved by a cat, it is a meaningless one. But if you HAVE been loved by a cat, then you know the value of that gift. It means that the cat will give you a lifetime of love. They will literally spend their entire life in your company. You will feed them, protect them, keep them warm and safe. And they will give you their entire life.
Their entire life. That's their commitment. And what is yours? Easy, you commit to the knowledge that at some point in the future you will be given a terrible decision to make. That decision will be the last you make for your cat. That decision will result in a transference of pain and suffering. You will take away all the pain and suffering of your cat, and you will begin a process of pain and suffering yourself. That's the price for the look. When they look in your eyes with love, that terrible decision is the price. It's a moment that all cat owners dread, but a moment that comes to us all.
So should we feel bad when our cat passes on? Of course we should. We are losing someone we loved, and someone that loved us. The grief will be terrible, but it will be transient. It WILL pass. You will then be left with memories. Some of these memories will bring you tears. Some of these memories will make you laugh. But the pain and the suffering will fade.
So when the moment comes, you have to find a strength within yourself. You're about to do something incredible. You're about to give a display of love and devotion rarely equalled. You will be given a decision about whether to allow your pet to suffer and thus save your own pain, or whether to remove all pain and suffering from the cat, and take it on yourself. If the time is right, you will know, and you will make the right decision. And then you should be so proud of yourself. In the midst of your own grief, and suffering, you should take such strength from the knowledge that when the moment came, you decided to choose your cat's welfare in favour of your own. What greater love can any pet owner display?
So for those that think they have to make that decision soon, take strength. Know that your moment has come. The moment where you wrap up all the love and devotion you have for your cat into one incredible moment and do what's right. For those on the other side of that decision, then well done. I'm proud of you, and your cat would be proud of you, too. Your cat is forever pain-free. You are in pain, but I promise it will pass. Don't worry, some of us know how bad that pain is. You are not alone, and we know how much it hurts. It's terrible, but it will pass. Then you will have the memories, which you should treasure.
I like to think one day I will be re-united with my pets. There will be no crashing together as we run towards each other as in the rainbow bridge poem. There will be no kisses. We will simply give each other that look. The look that says "I love you, and now I know how much you love me"
I'm so sorry for your loss. Thank you for being strong enough to let her go when the time was right for her, not for you.I first read this six years ago this week when I lost my 18 month old kitten Gordon to FIP. Yesterday, I put my 15-year-old girl Hanna to sleep and I’ve been crying ever sense. I remembered this post this morning and came back for some more solace. While I love all my cats, and have cried over losing others, Hanna was my heart cat. A week ago today she was nuzzled up next to me, feeling ok. Now she is gone. I gave up another piece of my heart yesterday, and took her pain away. A very hard thing to do, but not a difficult decision and I didn’t make her wait once I knew she was in pain.
I have passed this post to so many people since I found it 6 years ago, and grateful I was able to come back to it. Thank you, Gareth, again. I know this won’t be the last time, but right now, my heart is broken.