He's Gone...

My Mikey is gone.  And he's never coming back.

My heart is so completely broken. I wish this were all a bad dream.

That photo is the last one I took of the two of us, just two days before he died.


It's been 5 days since I let him go, and it hasn't gotten any easier.

I still keep hearing his voice in my head and expecting to see him around every corner.  I would give anything for one more day with him, healthy, to hold him and snuggle him and smell his head and kiss his paws. 

I've played last Thursday night over and over in my head.  Questioning if I did the right thing.  Going over what I thought went wrong.  Wondering what was going through his mind and if he knew through it all how much I loved him. 

I had a vet come to my house that night, which I thought would be the best way for him.  I didn't want the last thing he experienced to be a cold steel table in an unfamiliar, scary place.

The morning after, I drove back to Pennsylvania, tears streaming down my face the entire time, with both of my cats in the car.  My dad dug a hole and we laid Mikey to rest in my parents backyard under the apple tree where our family dog is buried.  He looked like he was sleeping.  Even though I knew his spirit was no longer in that body, I still couldn't believe it was the last time I'd ever see him in this life.  It still doesn't feel real. 

Sal grieved for days, searching frantically for Mikey in my apartment and at my parents house.  He cried under the bed the first night and couldn't sleep.  He continues to search and look behind him constantly for Mikey and at night sits atop the bed, looking into the hallway, waiting.  I can't imagine what he's thinking and I'm worried about leaving him home alone all day from now on.

From the day they were born and for the past 11 years, they were constant companions.  They have never even spent 1 day apart.  They slept together, played together and groomed each other daily.  They were brothers and soulmates.

There have been a few times I've seen Sal looking over my shoulder, eyes wide and unflinching, and I believe Mikey is visiting him.  Today, he was staring intently down the hall, and then chased something up the stairs.  I believe they are still playing together.

I don't want to keep crying about Mikey, but I also don't want him to think I've forgotten about him.

We weathered the blizzard in Pennsylvania and just came home to my apartment tonight.  I think a tiny little part of me expected to see Mikey waiting for us when we returned. 

His food bowl and litter box are still out.  I still have jars of baby food on my counter and his medicine in the fridge.  I'm not yet ready to pack up all the reminders.

I miss him more than I ever thought possible, and our lives will never be the same.  I can't believe this is our new reality.

I hope he knows how much I love him, and I hope wherever he is, he's not hurting and not lonely.

I got this photo of my boys snuggling, the night before Mikey died:

I lost a piece of my heart last week that I'll never get back.  My sweet boy, I loved you so much and I always will. 

What greater gift than the love of a cat? ~ Charles Dickens

 



When the World Stops Spinning

It's apparent I've been MIA around here for a couple of weeks.  Maybe you noticed, and maybe you didn't!  But my cat's been sick and I just didn't feel like writing.  I don't even feel much like writing now but thought I'd check in and let you know I'm still alive.

It all started off so innocuously.  I took my cat into the vet last weekend for what I believed was a minor cough, and what I thought would be a simple diagnosis. They took chest x-rays and that's when they saw it.  A mass.

I heard the C word and then I lost it.  I felt like I was going to throw up and pass out at the same time.  My world stopped spinning.

I brought him home and then I cried all weekend.  ALL weekend.  Nothing else matters when someone you love gets that diagnosis.  Nothing.  An ultrasound yesterday confirmed the tumor.  We are still waiting on a biopsy which will be performed next week but in any case, it's not good. 

I'm sad every time I look at him, thinking there's something inside his body that's slowly killing him and there's nothing I can do. 

Why my cat???

I cry in the car and in the shower sometimes, when no one's around.  I cry when I look at him and see how thin he's becoming, wondering why I didn't notice anything sooner.  I cry often when I lie down at night. 

I don't know how I'll watch him go through this. 

How do you explain what's happening to a cat?  I don't know. 
How will I explain to his brother what's happened to his very best friend in the world.  I don't know.  How will I pretend that what's happening to him isn't killing me inside?  I won't.  

Tomorrow I leave to spend the holiday in ATL surrounded by family.  I'll board my plane and pretend my world's still spinning, and that my heart isn't breaking into a million little pieces.

And that's all I have to say about that. 

I realize this post is a HUGE downer and I'm sorry.  But that's what's been going on.  If you've ever had a pet with a terminal illness, I'd love to hear what you did, how you dealt with it, and how you helped them through it.

Wherever you are spending the holidays and whomever you are with, love them and hug them and tell them.  You never know how much time you have left.