Lessons from My Cat about Grief

My father died when I was twelve and I never learned how to grieve, until now.

Photo by on

It’s been nearly three weeks since my cat Sprinkles passed. She had trouble breathing after eating.

I later found out she had heart disease and that was the underlying cause.

After a discussion with the vet, it was clear that euthanasia was the only viable option. The vet was kind. But nothing makes it easy.

It happened quickly. Too quickly.

I used my body to shield her from the unfamiliar surroundings. She pushed her head into my hand as I kissed her and spoke loving words.

She suddenly dropped from my hand. Her face was screwed up and she looked like a soft toy. I am not sure if she looked calm. She didn’t look ‘anything’. That is what is so shocking about death.

The body is instantly empty of what made it that person or animal. I always joked with my son about her being the best soft toy ever. She was initially his Twelfth birthday present.

I was in shock. I woke up that morning and never thought the day would end like this.

I find myself going into a familiar downward spiral of self-blame. I blamed myself for giving her medication too soon after…