On Losing a Beloved Pet
May 22nd, 2009 by Christine Kane
“Relationships are forever. They are eternal. Not just permanent in this lifetime. Once you establish a relationship, it is an eternal relationship.” – Abraham-Hicks
Years ago I was at a workshop, sitting in a circle of women. One of them was grieving a death in her family, expressing anger and isolation.
She said, “…and you know what? If one more of my idiot girlfriends acts like she knows what I’m going through and shares some dumb-ass story about when her stupid dog or cat died, I’m going to explode.”
Of course, that anger wasn’t the truth of who she is. Anyone who has experienced grief knows that she was probably just trying to mask her intense sadness. Anger pretends it can do that.
For some reason, though, I thought of that woman at 1am this past Tuesday.
Atticus, who had been my special pal for 13 years, finally passed away after a long hard final week of a five-month illness. Silently, I assured that woman – wherever she is now – that my heart was shattered enough to satisfy even her needs.
Even though Mr. Patticus weighed in at only 4 pounds at his passing, I felt the grief of a hundred tons of spirit. After all, the sadness of letting go has so little to do with these earthly issues — like weight and form, or human and pet. It’s a matter of the heart. And thank goodness, our hearts don’t know such limitations.
I’ve been so touched by the number of people who have stopped their busy lives to share their stories when they found out about my beloved kitty. I love how common we all are – even the most stoic or the most mental among us can share with stunning detail an instance when they lost a dog, or a cat, horse or bird.
When a treasured pet dies, you may find yourself going through a kind of mental gymnastics – most of which is just a feeble attempt at distracting you from what you’re desperately trying to avoid: the heavy and unbearable sadness of letting go of something so sweet, so precious, and so connected to you.
Most thoughts can be noticed, accepted, or released – yet when you are in the thick of your grief, sometimes it’s hard to remember to do any of those things.
So, the following items are random. I’m posting them for someday. I’m posting them because you might need a friend-in-writing at some 1am of your own. Print this out and save it for that time.
These are pieces of my experience, and pieces of stories from other people. This is my attempt to remind you of the truth, so that you can get back to doing what you are meant to do when you lose a pet – which is to purely experience the release of this being you treasure. In that alone will you find healing.
Guilt
Guilt will sneak in at unexpected moments, telling you that you did it wrong, that you didn’t do enough, that you caused this to happen, or that it’s all your fault.
Guilt is tricky. It seems like situations cause it to rise up out of nowhere. But really, guilt just hangs around, waiting in the wings – and it waits to find the perfect situation to make an entrance.
In the highly charged situation of a sick pet who doesn’t have a voice, guilt is always available to fill the silent spaces. And it serves no purpose.
You find your pet, you love your pet, and you do the best you can. That’s all you can do.
That’s what you did.
Blame
Blame is guilt going in the opposite direction. You’ll want to blame the vet, or the driver of the car, or your boyfriend for taking you out that night when your dog ran off, which wouldn’t have happened had you been there.
Blame serves one purpose: to distract you. It’s not that you aren’t allowed to have moments of blame and anger – but remember that no matter how much of it you experience, eventually the sadness will be what’s waiting for you at the end of that long line of stuff. And you’ll have nowhere else to turn but in its direction.
Blame might postpone the sadness – but not forever.
Second-Guessing
A friend of mine told me that one of the worst things about putting her cat to sleep was the second-guessing that happened afterward.
Second-guessing is just guilt on Halloween. It puts on a mask called “Rational Thoughts” that offer you all the reasons why you did the exact opposite of what you should’ve done.
Atticus died as I held him on my kitchen floor. During this last hour, I was overtaken by fear. The second-guessing began. Had I made the wrong choices? Should I have had him put to sleep? I didn’t do any of this right, did I?
I was able to catch myself and remind myself that all I needed to do was be fully present to this moment, and we would both get through it. That’s all you need to do, too. Your presence is more powerful and more healing than your untrue thoughts.
Knowing
When you’re contemplating putting your pet to sleep, and you ask people how you’ll know whether or not to do it, and when it’s time, they will all tell you one thing, “Oh. You’ll know. You’ll just know.”
The truth is that you might know. And that’s great. But you also might not. I kept waiting to hear a “knowing.” But it never came. My homeopathic vet told me that it might never come, and that you just have to do the best you can do.
Life
It’s imperative that you experience life during this time. When Atticus was dying, Spring was in a “Hey it’s been raining for six straight days!” cheerleader-like exuberance, so I made myself go out into the woods with my dog.
I witnessed Pink Ladyslipper in bloom. I smelled the wet ground. I watched some Pileated Woodpeckers going to town on a fallen tree. I met a month-old puppy and reveled in his puppy breath.
It was as if the earth was shouting at me, “It’s all life!”
I didn’t believe it. But it helped me remember that it was all there for me to return to when I’m ready.
Give yourself time for life and remember that, as Eckhart Tolle reminds us, the opposite of death is birth. Not life. Life doesn’t die.
Time
No matter if your dog was only three when she got hit by a car, or if your cat lives to be 29, you’ll want more time. You’ll bargain for it. You’ll pray for just one more year. You’ll swear that you’ll be grateful 365 days straight.
Atticus had a lifetime of me bargaining for more time. Homeopathy pulled him from the jaws of death on several occasions. I was (and am) grateful for all of it.
But it didn’t make it easy to let go when the time came. I still held tight. I even made a few feeble bargaining attempts. But eventually, I had to surrender and focus on gratitude for the years he lived.
Of course, surrender doesn’t make the sadness go away. It’s just that you no longer are clinging quite so tightly.
The truth about time is that it is only ever now. And all those nows that you had with your beloved animal were perfect. But this now is different from those nows.
Protection
My mom had two dogs when she was little, and both of them died unexpectedly. One day her dad announced that he refused to allow any more pets in their home because he couldn’t stand to go through any more broken hearts. He managed to hold fast to his rule, and my mom never had another pet in her life. I never said this to my mom, but I find it interesting that her dad died of a massive heart attack at a young age.
You might want to swear off animals forever. You might tell yourself that you can’t possibly go through this ever again. While it may take some time to allow another pet into your life, the idea that you can protect your heart from pain by sealing it off from love is ludicrous. As one of my Platinum Coaching clients wrote on her coaching form last week:
“I’ve spent so many years, pretty much all of my life, working so hard to avoid feeling pain that I never let myself see beauty either.”
As long as we’re on this planet, we might as well experience it, revel in it, take it all in, live big, cry hard, laugh a lot, and love every being that will have us. What’s to protect yourself from?
It’s an honor to love something so much that your heart breaks when it moves to another plane. It’s an honor to be loved back, too. There’s joy to be found – even in your sadness.
Judgment
Some people will find you ridiculous. You will cancel engagements and get rolled eyes. Your family might whisper about you.
“It’s just a cat.”
“Why all the fuss over a dog?”
Don’t waste your energy being mad. Whether it’s the joy of a pet, or having your own business, or getting fired, or losing a parent – if someone hasn’t experienced it, then they just don’t understand. They will someday. In the meantime, be willing to be judged. You’ve got more important places to put your attention.
Surrender
Lastly, let’s talk about the moments of sheer peace, surrender, and enlightenment. You will have these, too.
You will have minutes, maybe hours or even days where you feel a deep surrender to the process of life. You will marvel at your clarity, at how you are able to release with love this being that you cherish with all your heart. You’ll wonder if Pema Chodron will be phoning soon to ask you how you do it.
Love these moments. They are truth. But don’t berate yourself if you burst into tears the very next hour, and beg your pet not to leave, and bargain with God to make sure you never hurt again in your life. It’s a part of the roundabout cycle of loss.
The peace will descend again too. It’s who you truly are. And it will return. And it will last longer each time. And your heart will slowly take it in and heal itself into the full joy of being once again.
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May 22nd, 2009 1:57 am
Oh, Christine, my condolences.
May 22nd, 2009 2:13 am
This is absolutely beautiful.
Continuing to hold you, Atticus, and all of your human and pet family in my heart.
May 22nd, 2009 2:18 am
Christine, I am so sorry for your loss, my heart goes out to you,and I will keep you in my prayers. Mr. Atticus touched the lives of all who’ve been to your concerts or read your blogs, and I am thankful to him for the laughter he gave us through you, as his interpretor. He will be missed. Every beloved pet I’ve had the honor of sharing time and space with, forever reside in my heart and they still listen to me, love me, comfort me & even make me smile at memories of their antics.
Peace be with you.
May 22nd, 2009 2:44 am
Thank you so much for bringing us something so positive from the middle of your grief. This really is the perfect succint manual for grieving any loss. I’m almost feeling too superstitious to print it out because I don’t want to need it anytime soon, but I will bookmark it and remember your wise words.
May 22nd, 2009 3:25 am
christine, i am deeply moved. i’m with you. tiny
May 22nd, 2009 4:05 am
Christine, a heartfelt thank you for taking the time to write this – Mr Atticus has truly been a blessing in your life and he was blessed to have a life with you.
May 22nd, 2009 5:28 am
Christine ,I’m so sorry. Like many others I’ve enjoyed the little glimpses you gave us of life with Mr Atticus in your blog and through coaching. But what a wonderful post to write in the midst of it all. Love to you. Rhiannon
May 22nd, 2009 5:50 am
Christine, I’m so sorry for your loss. I understand what you’re going through.. I lost two cats, and I remember how my heart shattered and I thought it was just too much to bear…thanks for writing this post, it contains so much truth and so much wisdom, I wish I could have read it at that time. Love to you, Cristina.
May 22nd, 2009 6:09 am
My condolences to you, and my thanks for writing this beautiful post in the midst of it.
May 22nd, 2009 6:20 am
Christine, here’s a big, warm virtual hug all the way from NH. Like others who’ve commented, I’m so sorry for your loss and for the passing of such a sweet fellow. It says oodles about you and Atticus that you used your love and grief to leave a set of ideas and thoughts that we’ll be able to turn to when our next beloved pal passes. Mr. Patticus’ legacy to us all.
May 22nd, 2009 6:29 am
Much love & many blessings to you now and always.
I don’t know how helpful this could be, but sometimes I still feel my cat, Sam, with me. In the middle of the night, I’ll feel her jump up onto the bed and settle in near my feet like she always used to do. She’s never very far away… No one we’ve lost is.
May 22nd, 2009 6:31 am
Almost every night when I do my gratitude journal, my two beloved cats end up on the list. There’s a pure sweet love there that opens my heart. So I can imagine how you must feel. Thank you for using this occasion to share some wisdom with us. Please give yourself a hug now and take a good rest.
May 22nd, 2009 6:34 am
Dear Christine,
My heart goes out to you, and I wish you peace at this tender time. I know how hard it is to lose a beloved pet — it is a grief that is so pure, and so profound, that it seems to envelop every fiber of your being. I think that’s because the love of our animal companions is so pure and so complete — and it deserves nothing less than a mirror for that in death.
Be gentle with yourself during this transition time… and know that all the best of Mr. Patticus will live on forever in your heart.
Lynne
May 22nd, 2009 7:25 am
Dear Christine
I am so sad for you and know so well what it is like to love your pet with ever ounce of your being and what the devastation is like when they are sick or when it is their time to go.
Please know that we are all sending you positive energy in between our own tears as we grieve with you during this very sad time in your life. Your strength is amazing, your words resonate with anyone experiencing loss.
much love, Lisa xo
May 22nd, 2009 7:50 am
Dear Christine,
I am deeply moved by your words and feel honored to read them.
I am sure that one of Mr. Atticus’s last thoughts was a big THANK YOU to the Heavens for having met the human girl Christine. A wise and caring girl whose heart is big enough to allow room for both humans and animals.
with love,
Simona
May 22nd, 2009 8:09 am
Dear Christine,
Mr. Atticus enriched all of our lives through you. Thanks for sharing your heart experience; your gift of writing is beauty. A giant hug, Laura
May 22nd, 2009 8:27 am
dear christine, my heart goes out to you at this sad time. thank you for articulating so beautifully the emotions of such an experience.
that is your gift. you and mr.patticus shared a special bond and that lives in your heart. thank you for sharing your music, words and humorous pet stories with us!
May 22nd, 2009 8:30 am
Christine-I remember as if it was yesterday the way your heart went out to hold me after the passing of my pup, Nannah-my heart is with you now-all the best-Suzanne
May 22nd, 2009 8:35 am
Oh Christine, I’m so so sorry to hear about Atticus. I had noticed that he wasn’t twittering anymore, I miss his tweets.
Now I’m sitting at work with tears in my eyes (and I’m a receptionist!) feeling horrible for you, and feeling a little horrible for me, too, as the loss of every pet I’ve ever had comes back to me.
That’s one thing that always surprises me- those random moments of sadness YEARS later.
So much of what you said holds true. I lost my beloved Aspen five years ago this week, we’d only had him for two years when he ran off after a cat and somehow ended up on 240. To this day I have *never* been back on the on-ramp for 240 where he was hit (it helps that I moved away from Asheville a year later).
I was very lucky in some ways. I worked for a vet in Weaverville, so of course, they totally understood my need for a couple of days off work. But I still had those people who didn’t understand. The friend who said, “these things happen” as though it was supposed to make it make sense, to make it less hard.
It wasn’t easier or harder than losing our other family pets at the ages of 14 and 16.
Another step for me was pity. The “it’s not FAIR that they only live such a short time” feeling.
It’s just an unfair, frustrating, and sad situation all around. I’m so sorry that you’re having to go through this, but I *am* happy that you got to have 13 amazing years with Mr. Patticus.
May 22nd, 2009 8:36 am
Just noticed that there are a couple of Rhiannons on here. So I’ll update my name.
May 22nd, 2009 8:39 am
So sorry Christine.
You are fortunate to have with you other little 4 legged beings in your home. They can be such a great source of comfort.
May 22nd, 2009 8:53 am
One of your most beautiful posts ever and you’ve dug deep into those pools of grief that languish there beneath the surface. It’s coming up to my mom’s birthday in a few days – and of course mother’s day just was. She’s been gone 6 years now and those pools are still there – rising to the surface when there is enough stillness for me to connect with them. This morning your post allowed me to do that. I believe that every tear is a gift from god and from the comments – you’ve given us many countless gifts today. We are thinking of you and Mickey at this sad time and know that Atticus is too. There is no doing this wrong. You did exactly what you and he needed to do. Let the healing begin.
May 22nd, 2009 8:59 am
Thank you all so much for these thoughts and all of your compassion and connection. I’ve had some astounding hours of real peace and clarity. And yes, I believe that the tears are actually quite healing. Joan Ranquet’s amazing book “Communication with All Life” talks about how grieving for a pet is a gift because it lets loose all the other little things we, as humans, have repressed.
Mr. Patticus thanks you too.
May 22nd, 2009 9:02 am
Christine – I feel your pain. I have always been a cat person and at age 47 I have lost a few to disease, old age and a hawk. I have 5 cats and I mentally calculate who might go first and bargain with the gods about who should out live me. I know you have seen this poem… but it is always great to read it on occasion. There will never be a cat to take your cats place, but there will be one to join him in your heart.
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….
May 22nd, 2009 9:06 am
Christine, please accept my sympathies. I know personally how difficult this is and am so impressed that you were able to capture your thoughts in such a beautiful, helpful essay during this tough time. Thank you.
May 22nd, 2009 9:08 am
much love, many hugs.
when our bear died 3 years ago it was as if someone had torn a hole in our hearts. days, weeks, months and now years have gone by and that hole is still there and while it doesn’t hurt as much every day now, there are still times when there’s a flash of pain just as fresh, just as intense as when his heart stopped beating while i was telling him how much i loved him. (http://fivecats.livejournal.com/181688.html)
during our struggles to cope with the emptiness we would talk about the things bear loved, the type of wonderful spirit he was and what we envisioned him doing in heaven. one story led to another and another and then we thought that the bear’s vision of heaven would be to surround himself with the things he loved best – people and crab. (that bear *loved* to eat crab) we knew that a former maid and housekeeper who had helped to raise bonn, my wife, would be in heaven waiting for her as well and given her love of cooking, it just seemed natural to put her together with the bear. thus heaven became Bear and Ethel’s Crab Shack. (or just The Crab Shack for short)
The Crab Shack has tables enough for all of our friends. people come and go; they stay for a while before movingo n to visit other friends. there are bookcases along the wall filled with the best board games (for me). musical instruments of all types are there as well. somehow i’ll be able to play games, play music, keep several cats in my lap and feed them all the crab they can eat (before they collapse into a crab-induced coma) up there.
over at my blog i’ve written about The Crab Shack several times, especially whenever another of our cats has died. (http://fivecats.livejournal.com/198214.html) several of my fellow LJ readers have taken up The Crab Shack as their beloved animals have died, as i’ve told them i’ve asked the bear to be ready to welcome in another guest.
i know it all sounds a bit crazy.
there is a bit of the crazy in all faith, though, i think. all i know is that we believe what we believe, that small miracles happen around us every day if we just stop and look for them, and that without faith the world can become a very bleak place very quickly.
(http://fivecats.livejournal.com/202490.html)
so, with your permission, i’ll ask the bear to be on the lookout for mr. patticus and give him a big welcome to The Crab Shack when the bear sees him.
…
May 22nd, 2009 9:09 am
Beautiful and deeply moving…Thank you for posting this for’that someday’
Holding you in my heart and thinking of you
May 22nd, 2009 9:36 am
Loving thoughts are winging their way to you and to the delightful Mr. Atticus (whom I never met, but whose Twitter stream was one of my favorites!).
May 22nd, 2009 9:46 am
A beautiful, touching post about your beloved friend Mr. Patticus and this journey we call life. Please accept my condolences for the passing of your beloved little friend. I’m glad you found & enjoyed each other for thirteen wonderful years. I’m sure he’s looking down on you from kitty heaven.
Thx
G.
May 22nd, 2009 9:52 am
So sorry to hear about your kitty. We lost our 4 year old puppy to cancer last summer and I cried for almost a week and there have been moments since then when I tear comes to my eye thinking of him. He was a sweet soul and touched my family very deeply. We can’t compartmentalize how we feel about a person or how we feel about a very special pet. Or anything else for that matter. Our feelings and just that, “Our Feelings”
I think it shows a truly compassionate person if you can have strong feelings for an animal passing. They play such a huge roll in our lives. You can’t just dismiss those emotions, they are very real and need to be acknowledged.
Thank you for sharing your story.
May 22nd, 2009 9:55 am
My condolences on losing your kitty. Mine is 16 going on 17 and has had a couple of illnesses in the past six months. So it’s only a matter of time. It’s very helpful to read this post. Thank you.
May 22nd, 2009 9:59 am
Christine, Thank you for this. Beautiful. Like you, I was privileged enough to have Jobie, our 17 year old tuxedo cat, pass from his fur suit to what we call his Sparkle Suit in my arms. Marcy kneeling right next to us and petting him. We talked to him and soothed him as he took those last breaths.
Throughout his illness and then his passing — an event years ago I would have never thought I could handle — he taught me SO MUCH. In particular, he taught me the value of saying YES to everything this life has to offer — including the deaths. He taught me that it is all GOOD. That it is all BEAUTIFUL.
Wise and perfect and shining souls our animal friends are.
9 Months later her sent me Lilly, another Tuxedo whom I KNOW contains pieces of him.
I didn’t think I was ready, but I knew he wanted yet another “YES” from me.
May 22nd, 2009 10:02 am
Thank you, and my condolences.
We lost our kitty in February, and missing him still hits both my husband and me when we least expect it. Your words help.
Your fellow was lucky to have you (and the luck went both ways, I know.)
I’m sending you hugs. Best wishes.
May 22nd, 2009 10:07 am
I am so very sorry for your loss. I lost my Casey only a few weeks ago, so your words hit very close to home. It’s never easy, but I’m so thankful that I had what time I did with Casey, and that you had your Atticus. I know that my life is richer for having my furbabies in it, no matter how hard it is to let them go.
May 22nd, 2009 10:17 am
This is one of the most amazing posts I’ve read in a long time. Thank you for this.
May 22nd, 2009 10:36 am
I am so sorry. My kitty is my best pal, and I will be devastated when he goes, as he must sometime, even though he’s had a charmed life and is loved dearly every day. He’s my pal, and his soft sweetness and trusting, loving face are always there for me. As Atticus was for you.
I hope that the long-ago angry woman has since been peed on by a large dog, because for some of us our pets ARE like family. Frankly, I hate to have to say this true thing, I’ve probably loved my pets more than most of my relatives – the pets were never malicious, never used children as targets for their own adult anger, unhappiness or disappointment.
It’s hard to be destroyed by the death of someone who caused pain in your life, and it’s hard to not be devastated by the death of a furry friend who never brought anything but love and comfort.
May 22nd, 2009 10:36 am
I’m so sorry for your loss. Losing a pet is one of the hardest things I’ve been through in my life and I know how unbelievably painful it is. After I lost my dog I tried my hardest to focus on all of the good times we had together and the great life I gave her. It’s never easy when dealing with this type of situation, but you have to remember that you brought joy and happiness to an animal’s life. You are much better person for doing that and you have made the world a better place.
May 22nd, 2009 10:41 am
Christine, I’m sorry for your loss. Our beloved dog of 18 years (she was nearly 20 years old), died in the early morning hours on Monday. She had an extended illness of 7 months. We also went through that long, hard final week and the second-guessing – thinking somehow we could have and should have done things differently, done better, and done more. I’ve cried more tears than I thought were possible and felt an incredible emptiness from the absence of her presence.
Beneath the grief, there have been gifts in this too. I’ve processed other pain I didn’t know was there, gained a renewed sense of being alive and a desire to get on with the things I’m here to do, and feelings of love and deep appreciation for all the years I was privileged to have with my sweet girl.
I have found solace in your post. It’s helping me release the guilt and second-guessing. It was just what I needed right now. Thank you.
May 22nd, 2009 10:44 am
Christine – I am so sorry for your loss. Two weeks ago I lost my dog Micah after 18 years. It is so hard. It is different from losing a person, but no less painful. My thoughts are with you.
May 22nd, 2009 10:44 am
Oh Christine! I am so sorry that you are experiencing all this pain. Even though it is indicative of the great love that you held for your beloved pet. Thank you for sharing your story and for being so honest about it. Truly, it is our pets who love us unconditionally, without a moment of doubt and that is a gift that is hard to find in any human, so the loss is momentus.
My heart goes out to you.
May 22nd, 2009 11:07 am
Oh Christine, my heart is SO with you during this time. I hear & feel your soul connection to this sweet precious soul that was a part of your life. There are many pets in a lifetime & deep connections with each & every one. And then……there are…..our soulmate animals…..that reach even deeper.
The loss, the sadness, is evidence of the depth of the love shared. Much deeper than can ever be expressed in words.
What a gift that you were holding Mr Patticus as he passed to the other side. I don’t believe there is a greater gift. I know some may not understand that, but I think you may.
I am in the midst of celebrating new life. I have a new golden retriever puppy & an 8 month old kitten. I lost my dear soulmate golden, Ali, in February. And my soulmate kitty, Mocha, 11 months before. Watching these 2 new precious souls play is soothing to my soul. And my heart still aches for my pals, my soulmates, my heart companions.
And I know that that ache just opens my heart more & takes me deeper. There is no place I would rather be…..
May 22nd, 2009 11:10 am
Dear Christine,
I understand; I lost my Fred-cat just before Christmas. He was about 20 (human) years old, and had declined sharply from thyroid cancer. It is different from losing a person — I lost my husband of 31 years, at age 53, in August of 2006 after a life-time of coping with Type 1 diabetes — but every loss you experience after a particularly difficult one, brings up old grief too. The loss of a pet is no different.
Blessings.
May 22nd, 2009 11:26 am
I am so, so sorry for your loss. You are in my thoughts and prayers.
May 22nd, 2009 12:14 pm
Christine,
I am so deeply sorry for your loss. We just lost our bunny Alice last Monday. It was unexpected—sudden and quick—and we’re all still just gasping and wondering what happened. We are devastated and haven’t stopped crying. Thank you so very much for writing this and reaching out to all of us who have lost the loves of our lives. My heart goes out to you at this time.
Love and Peace,
Donna
May 22nd, 2009 12:35 pm
Christine, I am so sorry. I am thinking of you.
May 22nd, 2009 1:58 pm
I was so touched by your beautiful post. Thank you.
My heart goes out to you and your sweet kitty. Much love and hugs.
May 22nd, 2009 2:37 pm
Your post deeply touched my heart and brought tears to my eyes along with memories of my beloved greyhound, Buddy. Even though he passed away 8 years ago, not a day goes by where I don’t remember him and how much he touched and changed my life. I’m so sorry for the loss of your beloved kitty. Take good care, Karen
May 22nd, 2009 3:14 pm
My condolences, Christine. Pets are very special. I grieve along with you, but I’m also glad that you and Atticus had the opportunity to enrich each others lives. We don’t own pets–the Universe just allows us to borrow them for a while.
May 22nd, 2009 3:32 pm
It is so easy to share ourselves completely with an animal, making it so difficult to say goodbye. Sending Light your way.
May 22nd, 2009 3:54 pm
Dear Christine,
I’m so sorry for your loss. I always say I wish I could be as cool as my dog thinks I am. Who else can make us feel like that but our dear pets? They are pure love without condition or judgment.
Thank you for this post. I hope your heart mends soon, and know you are not alone.
May 22nd, 2009 4:35 pm
A dear friend of mine from high school and my beloved dog of 10 years died within a week of each other last November.
I got enormous comfort from knowing that they were no longer in pain and now ecstatic in their non-physical forms. But I still felt excruciating pain for quite a while.
I knew that the pain was linked to all the joy they brought me and I could access it by doing the things that I had most loved doing with them.
And that helped. But it mostly just took time before I didn’t burst into tears thinking about them – especially my dog who was absolute joy manifest.
I wrote more here: http://myfriendoprah.blogspot.com/2008/11/zoe.html
Take wonderful care. I’m so glad there is so much love and support for you here.
May 22nd, 2009 4:37 pm
Christine, My love and thoughts are with you at the loss of Mr. Atticus. Thanks for the great post too–I think Pema Chodron should be calling you any day now. You are present to it all. What more could any one do?
xoxo Sukie
May 22nd, 2009 6:36 pm
Hi Christine,
I am so, so sorry for your loss and appreciate how hard it is to stay present in the process of letting go, and what a tremendous gift to ourselves and that loved one that it is when we do. Sending love and light-Tracy
May 22nd, 2009 6:50 pm
Wonderful, wonderful words Christine. Thank you and God bless.
May 22nd, 2009 9:31 pm
My condolences for your loss. Your thoughts are much appreciated. I still miss our first dog who died 3 years ago. We’ve had other dogs since and love the one sharing our lives presently, and I can still cry when I think of him and how much I wish he were still with us.
The choices are difficult. I like Michael J. Fox’s perspective and take solace in knowing it applied to us and the choices we made: “(Focus on) doing the next right thing, not the next thing right.” At each junction, we chose what we believed to be the next right thing and, being only human, is the best we could hope to do.
May 22nd, 2009 10:32 pm
Christine, The love of a pet is a special gift forever. What’s so wonderful is how you chose to turn your understanding of this deep grief into help and comfort for others. You’re got a wonderful heart that we all appreciate.
May 22nd, 2009 11:26 pm
Christine, I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. My cat, who moved continents with me and my husband, died in August and while reading your post, I relived all of the emotions again. Thank you for articulating so well what it takes to get through the grief and what to avoid. My heart goes out to you at this time. Blessings.
May 22nd, 2009 11:36 pm
I so enjoyed Mrpatticus’s tweets and have missed them. I am sorry for your loss.
May 22nd, 2009 11:39 pm
Christine, I am so sorry about your loss. Having been there myself, I really appreciate your wise words, and thoughts. They would have been a great comfort in the past…and will be in the future.
Thank you for sharing Atticus with us, both through this blog and his tweets. He was very special indeed
May 23rd, 2009 12:05 am
Hi Christine,
Thank you for sharing your thoughts and wisdom. You and your loved ones are in my thoughts and prayers. The thought that hit me was “knowing.” Even if I had known exactly what to look for, I wouldn’t have had any idea what it would be like afterwards. I’m still learning. Peace and love to you and all those who’ve loved, lost, and found that the love lives on. Pati
May 23rd, 2009 12:33 am
Christine,
you entered my world today through a series of web links, and while reading older blog entries of yours, I fell in love with your writing.
I didn’t read your most current entry until late. As with the other blog entries that I read, this one resonates quite deeply with my own soul and I sincerely wish that I had been able to express myself just as wisely years ago.
The passing of an entity (either human or feline)comes with a jar full of emotions that are often contradictory, overwhelming, and some surprisingly beautiful. You managed to express them all with life and hope. I won’t be referring to this post at just those 1AM moments that seem riddled with a vast unknowing, but will refer to these points on a weekly basis. Thank you for writing this.
May 23rd, 2009 2:43 am
Thank you for this post. I found it at the perfect time, and on the perfect night. Many good thoughts to you in your times of grief. I know how you feel.
May 23rd, 2009 6:34 am
I am so sorry for you loss! You have written such a beautiful, healing piece for all of us who have loved and lost a beloved furbaby – thank you!
May 23rd, 2009 6:55 am
Thank you for this. I still have moments of intense grieving and guilt that I ‘did it wrong’ over my cat Rosie, who died a few months ago. She was nearly 15 years old and had been with us far longer than any other pet in my life. I’m still at the stage of telling the kids no, no more pets, but who knows.
Your words have helped me know I am not the only one, and my heart goes out to you right now.
May 23rd, 2009 8:03 am
Christine, I’m so sorry to hear about Mr Padicus. He was the most beloved cat I’ve ever met and a very good boy. Take heart from your memories. Kara
May 23rd, 2009 9:38 am
Dear Christine,
Thank you so much for this excellent post from the middle of your grieving self. Mr. Patticus was a unique being who was lucky to be with you and you were lucky to be with him. We are now all lucky recipients of precious gifts from Mr. Patticus through you. Grieving is a journey and you have given us an excellent road map for that journey. Holding you and the angel guy in the light. With love…
May 23rd, 2009 9:50 am
Your comments and insights on this are spot-on. I lost my best friend Kato, after 14 years of time together, back in December. I still miss him dreadfully. I know some people, including family, think I’m an idiot for grieving about “just a dog.” Whatever they want to think is fine. It just shows me they have forgotten about the pain that can occur when you really open your heart.
That saying about knowing when to help them pass on – so many people said to me “Oh, he will let you know; you will just know when it’s the right time.” Sometimes that is just rubbish. There was no sudden message or insight telling me, “Today I need to do this.” There was just my giving up and giving him over to peace after enduring old age and cancer.
We love them, we lose them, grief happens. Life and death and one foot in front of the other, with gratitude for the enormous amount of love they give to us. We do the best we can do.
My heart goes out you.
May 23rd, 2009 10:19 am
My condolences on your loss – Mr. Patticus brightened my days on more than one occasion, and my heart and prayers are with you now.
May 23rd, 2009 10:50 am
Christine, I am so very sorry for your loss. Any loss is hard. And I know how Mr Patticus was so very special to you.
Shortly after my husband died, I got an email from a friend who had just experienced “the most devastating thing ever in their life and did not know if they could go on”. (Please pardon the “their”. I really don’t even want to say whether this person is male or female.) This was after the death of a dog. I am not sure why this person sent that email to me just months after my husband died, but they did. I had absolutely not one whit of compassion for them and just hit delete. So although losing a beloved pet is nothing like losing a husband (or more recently a daughter) it is still a loss and is still a very big event in your life. Neither of you have two legged children and in my experience, pets do kinda fill that space in your life.
So I guess maybe I’ve grown a little. I can feel compassion for you. Maybe because I know you better than I knew that other person (if only through our mutual friends and this blog). And maybe because you didn’t say that it was the most devastating thing ever! Just know that you have a virtual hug from me.
Your comments about the emotions that you go through are spot on regardless of the species involved. I have been through them all, just trying to keep my head above water and knowing that everything is in perfect order, even if I don’t understand it. Something that helps me a lot is a statement that I believe also came from Abraham. “Pain is a given. Suffering is optional.” For me the key is to feel the grief when it comes up and to stay out of the wallowing. Hopefully I am managing not to stuff it!
Love to you and Micky,
Pam
May 23rd, 2009 12:45 pm
Thank you Christine for saying things I couldn’t.
My dear akita, Giga, died earlier this month.
You’re post has helped me with the grieving process.
Here is my tribute to her: http://www.craftcast.com/main/?paged=2
May 23rd, 2009 2:28 pm
As often as we humans allow it, our pets are a pure and instant connection with source energy, unconditional love. All the lovely ways we experience joy through knowing them is deeply missed when they are gone. Our sweet friends are so easy to love and they give us so much. It does help to talk about and remember them – with people who understand. My heart is with you.
May 23rd, 2009 4:18 pm
With tears in my eyes and a sad, bittersweet, knowing smile on my face I commiserate with you and send you love. I believe your Atticus Patticus and my Mutee are together munching on Greenies kitty treats and comparing notes on favorite sleeping spots!
May 23rd, 2009 5:18 pm
I am so very sorry….I loved his “tweets” always so funny about negotiating his 2nd breakfast and bowling pin pose..etc..He really had a great “presence”..I have had several pets & cats (4 now)thoughout my life and it is always tough when they pass on.
May 23rd, 2009 5:57 pm
I am so sorry…Atticus sounded like a very special cat. I found this post amazingly profound and I have saved it for the time when I will need it most. I have a “senior” dog who is my first dog and I am sure that letting go will be a hard part of the process of living. With your words I can be a bit more guided in the process…thank you.
May 23rd, 2009 9:04 pm
thank you for a wonderful beautiful post! I am still struggling with grief of losing our beloved pekingese just over a month ago after a losing battle with oral cancer. Your post has helped me thank you so much for that!
This is my tribute to our Toby, the best pekingese ever!
http://claudinehellmuth.blogspot.com/2009/04/tribute-to-our-beloved-toby.html
May 23rd, 2009 9:19 pm
sending you love, warmth, hope, and long hugs for your journey right now….adored and valued deeply what you wrote….but more that you claimed all of these truths for yourself so very immediately and then saw the gift in s t a n d i n g for them and sharing with us all that’s helped you, all you’ve found/proved true. i too shed tears reading this, and just cherish the eternal idea that is Atticus….may the comfort of all your furry ones and your friends/family lessen the sting of missing him so much. sooo cherish all you are about and all you push each one of us to be…..
May 23rd, 2009 10:42 pm
Christine, I am so sorry. I have been reading about Atticus on your newsletter and hoping he would improve. This post has left me in tears and sending you love.
May 23rd, 2009 10:57 pm
Oh, Christine, I’m so sorry to hear you’ve lost Atticus. I’ve been reading your blog for years and have enjoyed his stories as much as I enjoy yours. My heart’s breaking right now because I lost my own sweet Simon Little just yesterday afternoon after a long fight with fe-leuk, so I’m writing this through tears. When I light a candle for Simon tonight I’ll add a blessing for Atticus, and heartfelt sympathy for you & the aching loss I know you feel.
May 23rd, 2009 11:02 pm
Just sending you a huge big hug – I am so sorry to hear about Atticus passing.
May 24th, 2009 2:46 am
People who know are often surprised to discover the strong feelings I have for Kimba, my cat. Doesn’t seem to fit. She is very much my child, and my love for her is deep. I don’t expect anyone else to feel similarly, or to understand why I feel this way.
But I’ll admit it’s good to know many do understand.
My condolences…
May 24th, 2009 6:41 am
I am both so sorry for your loss and so grateful for the gift of this beautiful post. Thank you. Blessings to you and Atticus.
May 24th, 2009 10:20 am
Thank you so much, everyone, both for your kind thoughts – and for sharing your own stories and treasured memories. I just love that our four-leggeds (and winged’s!) have the power to open our hearts in such huge ways.
May 24th, 2009 10:29 am
Christine, I was one of those people that didn’t understand…until I got my own babies (donnely is a rescued weimaraner and keely is a weim mix from a shelter). I can be moved to tears at the thought of them ONE DAY having to leave this plane. You are so right-until I felt the connection and love we can have with animal, I couldn’t understand what a loss would feel like. I pray for comfort for you as mr patticus transitions and for those that have lost beloved pets. And I am so grateful that you spoke about this with kindness, courage and compassion.
May 24th, 2009 10:43 am
Christine, I’m so sorry. I have loved my animals so deeply, as well, that I truly can feel your pain and loss. To paraphrase Will Rogers: “If there are no cats in heaven, then when I die, I want to go where they went.”
May 24th, 2009 10:50 am
Christine, my heart goes out to you. Thank you for sharing this.
May 24th, 2009 1:28 pm
It’s funny… I grew up in a household in which someone was often criticizing someone else they knew for giving a pet extra love or attention.
“She treats it just like it’s her child. It’s a DOG!!!”
Even before I formed the bond I have with Kimba, I came to see something was wrong with this energy, and at some point in my thirties I spoke up about it.
“Look, this lady you’re criticizing was unable to have children. What’s it to you if she wants to treat her cat in this way? What are you so worried about? That if people start giving pets too much attention, it’s going to detract from your value as a human or something? She wants to give her love to something. What is wrong with YOU for criticizing this?”
There were a few grumbles around the table.
May 25th, 2009 12:24 am
Christine, I am sorry to read that you have lost your dear friend, Atticus. Reading your excellent post about all the feelings we move through during such a difficult time, I reflected on the animal companions no longer with me who meant so very much. And I missed them all over again!
Yet, in time, I find that I smile at the memories of my cat, Rhiannon, who liked to jump up the walls and turn on the light switches just to hear me yell her name in annoyance. And Angel kitty, who was a miserable cat her whole life, so sour that I often felt bad for her, but who I loved dearly anyway for her crabby little self. And Rascal who snuggled on my lap during Red Wing Hockey night and purred until she drooled on me. And Duchess, my dear German Shepherd, who lived to the ripe old age of 15 1/2, a sweet girl who was a wonderful, wonderful friend.
When my mother died, I don’t know what I would have done without my furry companions. Just to lie with my cat and hear her purr. And to have my wonderful dog, Sophie, remind me that life (and playtime) continues.
May your grief gently turn into wonderful memories over time. And may those who have the need to vocalize their lack of understanding at a time like this be condemned to repeated viewings of “Old Yeller” until they get it.
Thank you for sharing this, Christine, along with that very cute picture of Atticus.
Sincerely,
Jeri
May 25th, 2009 9:24 am
Hi Christine,
Your post really moved me. I am so sorry for your loss of Atticus. I have an older dog who I love deeply and she has not been well for the past year. Watching her decline rapidly is tearing my heart apart. All those things you mentioned in your post – Guilt, blame, second-guessing, judgment – I feel all of them. I feel like I have already started the grieving process of her dying because she does not have the same spirit she has had her whole life.
She has the most beautiful eyes and face. We are their caretakers. I feel so responsible and yet I know I cannot control everything. But I keep thinking there is a way to save her, a way to help her. It is so hard to know if and when you have done enough.
Thanks for sharing your beautiful thoughts. It helps.
Best wishes,
Gayle
May 25th, 2009 11:14 am
Christine,
I am so sorry for your loss. I too have shed tears reading your post and the comments, appreciating a community that understanding the lunacy of the phrase “It’s just a dog/cat/pet!” I hope to share this post with my mother, who has had a hard time allowing herself to greive for so many dearly loved pets who are now gone. Thank you for sharing your journey with us. Many kind wishes to you.
Memory
May 25th, 2009 12:54 pm
Sorry to hear of Atticus’ passing. Losing a cat is indeed devastating. I lost mine 10 years ago and still think of him when I see a similar looking cat. Thanks for your thoughtful approach. Deanne
May 25th, 2009 3:27 pm
Christine,
I’m very sorry for your loss. Your article was very touching and I appreciate you sharing it in the midst of your own pain of losing a long time furry friend. You are right that your heart breaks weather it is a human or an animal. I lost my husband and several pets over the years and though you never “get over it” you do learn to live with it better and appreciate the time you had with those precious beings. Thanks again for sharing your wise and tender thoughts. I’m praying for you.
Love and peace,
Carolyn
May 25th, 2009 4:48 pm
I am so sorry at the loss of your pet. I remember when my own beloved cat, TingSu passed away at the ripe old age of 19 1/2. He had a tough go towards the end, too, but I still miss him and he died 32 years ago when my daughter was born.
I must say, I am very appreciative of your post. My father passed away in 1985 and my mother in 1997. There has always been a lot of anguish and blame around my father’s death, and not so much around my mom’s (I was with her at the end, Dad went quite suddenly). I have been grieving for years although not overtly and your article finally has given me some closure for the way I’ve been feeling. Thank you.
May 25th, 2009 7:24 pm
Christine, I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s 20 months since I lost my precious 15-year-old Yorkshire Terrier, Trixie, and the wisdom you share here is so, so relevant, so, so true… I wish you healing, and know it will be there for you, because you are allowing yourself all your feelings about losing Mr. Patticus. Aw… Blessings to you.
May 25th, 2009 9:47 pm
Thank you for sharing your experience with us, I’m so sorry.
May 26th, 2009 2:30 am
Hey, Christine ~
So sorry to hear of Atticus’ passing – I felt as if I knew him from the wonderful stories you would tell… on your blog, in your e-newsletter and during your concerts…
My Rocky (who you’ve cuddled as well as captured on film) just turned 14 and is slowing down day by day – I hope to “know” when it’s time… and pray that I too can be holding him in my arms when he transitions…
I’m now in the Atlanta area, visiting my ailing/aging mom to help her through the final stages of pulmonary fibrosis – whether beloved parent or pet, it’s never easy…
Sending love and light your way – thanks for a heart-hitting post exactly when I needed it… <3
May 26th, 2009 5:03 am
Christine,
My condolences are with you. Words can’t take away your pain, but I hope knowing there are so many thinking of you and your beloved Atticus brings you some comfort in this time of loss. My deepest sympathies!
May 26th, 2009 2:08 pm
How sad you must feel. And how strong you are able to learn and teach from it. I am amazed. I love what you say about protection. This is true in any situation really I guess. If you try to protect yourself continuously from all the bad, you have no chance in experiencing the really great stuff either. And that is not living, that is just passing through. The big bad stuff makes you feel and live the really good parts even better and deeper. So thanks Atticus for reminding us of living it all, good and bad, deeply and truly.
I send you courage and time, and lots of really good parts in your life to balance out this loss.
Mimi
May 27th, 2009 2:41 am
Hi Christine,
I am so sorry that you are experiencing this pain right now, but I think you are processing it in a very productive way. I still have the card you made for me to remember my beloved D.J. last year, and yes, second-guessing was a big part of my process. I ask his spirit every day to help me find my way to an acceptance of losing him when I believed was “too soon”, though the universe had other ideas.
I know, and I know you know, that in time, the joy that Atticus brought to your life will squeeze out the pain until all that remains is the quiet knowledge that both lives were better for having been shared in the way they were. Part of your mission in this world is provide love and caring to the animals who have found their way to you. They are drops of grace that rain down on our lives when we least expect it, and we are left changed forever. I ask my D.J., and all my animal angels to welcome Atticus to that next plane of existence, where they have no pain, and will occupy pure, unadulterated positions in our hearts and minds for as long as we draw breath on this earth.
Chris
May 27th, 2009 6:11 am
Christine, I am so sorry for your loss, but I thank you for such a wonderful & moving post. My beloved cat, French passed on Thanksgiving, Nov 2008 & I miss her every day. I spent 2008 having treatment for breast cancer & she was with me all the way. I had no one to talk to about what was happening to me, except her. When I came home after the chemo treatments she would lie on my chest & touch my face so gently with her paw. When I lost my hair she would curl around my bald head in bed at night. I still dream that she’s on the bed with me. Everything you wrote about feeling guilty & second guessing is so true for me & I thank you so much for writing about them.
My very best wishes to you.
May 27th, 2009 6:52 am
Oh I’m so sorry. I found it interesting that your grandfather refused any more animals.I felt that way for a bit. After my mother died, our guinea pig died as well. We never got another one. After my dad died, so did our dog. That was nine years ago and I’ve just risked opening our home and my heart to another dog. Hope the pain eases soon.
May 27th, 2009 9:47 am
Christine, I’m sorry to hear about Atticus’s passing. I know he was dearly loved and had a wonderful, full life with you.
We lost two cats within 6 months of each other eight years ago. I still carry a tiny bit of guilt over the second cat’s passing (that feeling that I didn’t do enough or didn’t do it soon enough.) It is probably why I watch our current two cats like closely for the slightest change in behavior. They are my kids after all.
Thank you for sharing your feelings. I’m sending you warm thoughts and Mr. Pippin (currently on my lap) send you warm purrs.
Peace,
Amy
May 27th, 2009 9:52 am
Christine,
We are so sorry to hear about Mr. Atticus. Animals become such a HUGE part of our lives and are considered part of the family. The pain the is associated with losing a beloved pet can be overwhelming. Anyone that hasn’t experienced that loss or is not an animal person doesn’t truly understand the depth of that emotion. Through the year, I’ve held many of my 4 legged babies as they have passed away and the only comfort that I’ve found during that exact moment is that they knew they were in the arms of someone who loved them so much. While I couldn’t always make their pain go away, I always hoped the comfort of my arms around them and my voice made it bearable. At the Wilkes home, we have 4 4-legged canines who were all rescues. We have 3 4-legged felines who were all rescues and we have 2 rabbits that were rescued from becoming a snake’s dinner. You could say we are pet friendly
Thank God my oldest daughter is a junior at UNCW working her way to becoming a vet. While our house can sometimes become chaotic and rather noisy, it’s a house full of love not only for the people who live here but for the animals that always bring a smile to our face even on our roughest days.
You’ve written such a lovely blog and I am sure that Mr. Atticus is watching over you and smiling and telling his new friends how proud he is that YOU are his Mom and gave him the love that he needed. He’s probably also saying — WHAT?? I’m checking out things in the woods- will you give me a minute
You’re an inspiration and I’ve learned some much since I found your site and went to your first concert. Your music is a daily part of my life and sometimes when it’s upside down and I wonder – what the hell I’m doing here…My Ipod seems to find me and your music is the calm during the storm.
We love ya girl!
Keep up the fantastic work and we are so looking forward to your upcoming CD!
Take Care of yourself!
The Wilkes Household!
May 27th, 2009 12:40 pm
Thank you so very much for this post. I lost one of my greyhounds to an accident two months ago (three days after my arrival in the UK) and I have been through and continue to go through everything that you’ve written here. Just the fact that you wrote it down helps me remember that I’m not insane and that it will get better.
Mr. Atticus has to be so proud, wherever he is now.
May 27th, 2009 12:44 pm
Dear Christine
I am so sad to hear about Mr Atticus I am sending you so much love.
I have had many many animals in my life, and when we moved here to Spain there were 22 cats and kittens in our new garden, all wild. After a few weeks of getting to know them and taming them a bit, we had them neutered and they all stayed. It has been a very special 9 years and we have learned a lot. We are now down to 6 and with each one’s passing there has been a huge gap, but you have put it so beautifully, thank you so much.
Lots of Love Pam
May 27th, 2009 2:20 pm
Christine,
I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. Thank you so much for sharing this post. About a month ago, my cat of 18 years left me. He knew it was his time to pass on to another life so he just went out the cat door into the yard and found a way to slip under the fence and leave in the middle of the night. He had never left the yard before that. I felt terribly sad because I wasn’t able to be there with him at the end. I went through all the emotions you mentioned in your post. I know he loved me as much as I loved him because he wanted to spare me the pain of his having to leave me.
Love and peace to you,
Renee
May 27th, 2009 5:16 pm
You post was beautiful & moving…. You continue to amaze me…how at such a seemingly difficult time you are able to move beyond & reach out to comfort others. My sincerest condolences on Atticus’ passing. My heart & thoughts are with you.
May 27th, 2009 10:57 pm
love, love and more love, c. xo kathreen
May 28th, 2009 5:03 pm
Christine, I am sorry for your loss. In my experience it is a privilege to share one’s home, love and life with an animal and especially privileged to bear witness and love in their passing.
Your essay expresses all of that. Thanks and Love, Andrea
May 29th, 2009 4:20 am
This is beautifully written, so poignant and sensitive.
“It’s an honor to love something so much that your heart breaks when it moves to another plane. It’s an honor to be loved back, too. There’s joy to be found – even in your sadness.”
So true, even though I think it’s the hardest thing in the world to experience. I can’t find words to express the sheer gut-wrenching-heart-aching feeling that is the physical experience of losing a beloved pet. But those moments of clarity are pure serenity, we seldom experience such moments in our every day lives, and would surely not recognise the feeling if it weren’t for the depth of loss that is grief.
Thank you for sharing your story Christine, I know that I am who I am because of the animals who have graced my life thus far.
May 29th, 2009 9:13 pm
Oh thank you for that. I just lost a beloved little gerbil. So sweet and affectionate. You think people think you’re crazy for mourning a cat? Guess how they respond remorse over a lost gerbil.
I was blessed to learn how big a heart can be in such a tiny animal. Unfortunately rodents don’t live long. She was only three. In the past 6 days, I’ve had all those feelings you write about so eloquently. Especially the guilt and the blame. Thank you for sharing your story.
Shereen
May 30th, 2009 7:04 am
I so needed to read every word of this. I googled “Abraham-Hicks on putting animals to sleep” in hopes to find a suggestion or two on “how and when we know when”…. or when to simply let nature takes its course.
My dog Sushi (a 10 yr. old Shih-Tzu) has lymphoma cancer. He’s outlived the vet’s guestimation for survival by 3-4 months. He did amazingly well for the first 8-9 months (if it weren’t for his swollen glands, you’d have hardly even noticed)…. and then suddenly, this past month, it’s as if he hit a brick wall. He’s hobbling around like an old man who can’t move without his walker. He yelps when I pick him up, and tumbles to his belly if you try to stand him on his own 4 legs. It’s crazy to witness such a drastic change… and, as you know… a heartbreaking experience. I’ve had him since he was a puppy, and he’s such a mamma’s boy.
I know the day is coming soon where I’ll have to either put him down or hold his as he passes. Or maybe I’ll wake up or come home to find him “gone”. I keep trying to prepare myself for it, but then that takes me right out of the present moment NOW, where I can still hold him and pet him.
Your words have provided comfort, and a reminder that this experience will be another part of life. And though I know the sadness may not fade for awhile, the relationship is never-ending.
Thank you. Warmest Namaste.
-Kris
-Kris
May 30th, 2009 8:59 am
Thank you for these continued beautiful comments.
Shereen – i had chameleons when I was little and so I’m with you on the gerbil. Humphrey was a chameleon that I had a truly an indescribable connection with. I rarely share it with anyone – and i still think of him with all the tenderness I had back then. So, size doesn’t matter. i’m sending you lots of love.
And Kris – your comment made my eyes fill with tears. I know exactly what you’re going through. Just know that you have all these people who have commented here who understand your experience right now. I am sitting here blessing both you and Sushi. I”m glad you found this post and that it gave you a little comfort.
May 30th, 2009 1:39 pm
Thanks to Trikaya on Twitter, I was brought to this page. Just last week I had to put my beloved cat of almost 15 years to rest. I so struggled beforehand about how to determine when the time was right, but what I was sure about was not prolonging any suffering of his for my own needs. I committed to honoring him through his illness. Not an easy task for sure. My humanness kept coming in and finding reasons to cancel the appointment for the humane euthanasia.
The love with a pet is pure. It’s the purest love there is – no head games, no belief battles, just love. Christine, I am so sorry for your loss. Know that your angel is still with you in spirit. Stay in touch with each other.
And, if you’re interested, I invite you to read that account of my Kramer’s passing. You’ll find it on my blog here: http://www.kerriscorner.wordpress.com.
Sending light your way,
Kerri
June 1st, 2009 4:30 am
Christine, my heart goes out to you. I still miss my beloved Moony Cat, who went to sleep on the 19th Feb this year, my dearest little companion for so many years. I have to admit I still struggle with incredible guilt, when I had to make the decision while she was on the operating table, and the vet discovered that the tumor was inoperable.
It is incredibly difficult, for the pets that stay behind too, as they truly do grieve as well. My three year old niece, who knew nothing of my cat’s passing, and had not seen any of the other cats, walked up to me the day of Moony’s passing and told me that Talulah, my other cat, was very sad. My niece in deed has an amazing affinity with animals, and she was right, Talulah watched over and protected Moony from when she was a little kitten to the day she left us, and she truly displayed sadness for a good while.
We are blessed to know such love, which will always be with us, and remind us how beautiful life is, even though there is immense pain. I look forward to meeting my little companion again on the Rainbow Bridge.
Much Love
Janine
June 1st, 2009 10:29 pm
My beautiful 15 year old kitty, Tommy, was put to sleep this morning. He too died in my arms and I’m going through everything you wrote about in your blog. My grief is so intense that I can hardly breath.
My friend Elsa sent an email to me this afternoon with the link to your blog. I confess that I knew nothing about you,your blog or your music, but through Atticus and your profound words,I feel comforted by an old friend. I’m looking out at the most beautiful New Mexico sunset. I can’t help but think that Tommy had something to do with it.
Thank you, thank you Elsa, and thanks to so many of your readers for their sharing.
Jackie
June 3rd, 2009 11:45 pm
I had missed the astute and observant posts. Now I know why. He looks like my dear cat who I know always watches me and has sent me (I know she wouldn’t approve of him in the slightest because he is not royalty) another friend. Somehow or another, even now, no one will ever live up to her high standards! Clyde is a reminder of that everyday. She was the best, but he is a pretty good cat, nonetheless. I know she is hoping that someday soon, he puts a little regality in his strut so she doesn’t regret it too much.
June 4th, 2009 6:39 am
I too have just lost my kitten, Bobby was just 4mth old.Its just been 2 days and i miss him so much it hurts to the core,its like losing a child,I feel all of the things you have mentioned esp guilt, he was hit by a car.I feel he was just a baby and i let him out when i shouldnt have.I am also angry,not at the driver but at God for the spitits that could have protected him,why didnt i have a longer time with him.
I also feel embarrased that i get so upset,like people say,it was just a cat,but he was my baby,i loved him so so much.
I keep hearing him cry,I am spiritual but cause of the sadness i feel not sure if it is him or in my head and its freaking me out a bit.I just want to see him again,miss the things he used to do,like suckling on me as if i am his mom,in a sense i was.Just want this dark feeling to pass.
The kids want another kitten to fill the gap,but i cant replace Bobby and dont want to.
Any advice can i love another without feeling guilty and disloyal to Bobby,would Bobby approve.
any advice would be grateful,how long should i wait
June 8th, 2009 10:36 am
Thank you so much for this. I lost my beloved, Persian, Sonja, about two months ago and recently decided to get another Persina. I’m lucky to have a number of people who truly understand, but there were some things I didn’t say out loud to anyone and here you were, reading my mind! Thank you so much. I’m so sorry for your loss.
July 14th, 2009 12:03 am
[...] – about being homesick. It applies to everything, absolutely everything in our lives. From the death of a pet to losing a job to the illness of a child to waking up each [...]
July 30th, 2009 3:29 am
[...] Last week I read that earlier this month, Martha Beck lost her famous and beloved beagle Cookie and Christine Kane lost her beloved Atticus the cat. Both posts are enjoyable reads on the love of a [...]
September 7th, 2009 7:40 am
I lost my english bulldog a few day ago too soon 3 1/2 years only. I believe you have the right understanding for how to start the process in recovering from this tragic event. Surprise in an early loss is even worse as it broadsides you and there has been no time to plan and slowly move toward these emotions. I was throw in head first and have been trying to find some peace not any closure for my loss. Thank you for what you have written and god bless your best friend as I pray god blesses mine.
With loving memories to my Peanut
September 14th, 2009 10:53 pm
Thank you so much for these gentle, comforting insights. My beloved old cat, Teddy, is nearing his final days and I’m finding it so hard to accept this reality. I expect that I’ll be turning to these words here again and again. I just need to remember–as you said–there is joy to be found, even in sadness.
September 15th, 2009 6:22 am
steve – i tried to send you a special email, but the addy didn’t work. yes, i understand how hard it is to go through that sudden loss. my first cat was hit by a car and i thought I’d never get over that. this experience with atticus was different. but like i said – there’s never a point where it’s easy and you can just let go! i’m sorry for your loss.
holly – i’m sending you lots of love and light. i was just thinking last night as I went to bed of those weeks before atticus died and how i can’t believe i made it through. i don’t know that there is actual JOY in that sadness. but i do know that it’s all a part of the joy of LIFE. I’ll ask mr. patticus to hang out and wait for Teddy. (he’ll be in good paws that way!)
October 7th, 2009 5:24 pm
I happened upon your words, and am so glad you took the time to examine your pain. I just lost my sweet yellow lab, Bessie. She was 15 years old. My head knows she had a Montana life that was canine paradise, but my heart is broken. I can still feel my cheek against hers, and if I close my eyes I can feel her leaning into me for a belly scratch. Bessie ran wildly through meadows and rolled in scat despite being absolutely ancient. She barreled into old age like a rolling keg. I hope to do likewise.
November 26th, 2009 12:03 am
[...] That Mr. Patticus was in my life for a whole 13 years – even though I still miss him so much every [...]
December 1st, 2009 5:53 pm
Christine, my heart weeps for your loss and rejoices for your memories of your sweet kitty. I found myself teary-eyed while reading this entry. Knowing that there may come a day when I face the loss of my beloved Pomeranian who is very much like a child to me. [unhealthy, I know, but I still "humanize" her and find myself wishing that she could miraculously talk to me
] Thank you for your writing and I know that it will prepare hearts for the future.
December 18th, 2009 7:48 am
i lost my beloved dog exactly one week ago, this will be the saddest holiday in my life. 14 years of memories will always be in my heart. the whole family grieved for him.what makes the pain even greater was that he died while i was abroad, and that he was with a vet instead of his family. yes, if only i could read his mind, knew the pain he went through. he was the kindest, most loving dog we ever had…. i love him and will never forget him for the rest of my life….
January 1st, 2010 10:38 am
we lost our best friend Rambo on November 8, 2009. our whole family is grieving over his passing. there is a deep sorrow in our hearts. he was our “dad dog”, the heart of our family. we have Roxy his life partner and three of their offspring (Marty, Molly and Mickey) still with us. it hurts to see the dog family also miss him as much as we do. he was a wonder and a joy with a heart the size of a mountain. his capacity to love was amazing. it is taking time to put his passing into perspective and for it to find a place in our daily routine…some days are better than most. we love you Rambo and hold our memories of you foremost in our hearts.
January 5th, 2010 4:17 am
TYVM Christine.
I was one of those “it’s only a cat” people before I got my first kitten 12 years ago. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I just lost him 3 days ago, a sudden attack and he died. I consider myself an iceberg in many sad situations. The loss of my best friend of 12 years has left me in heartbreak, longing for his warmth and friendship, his purrs and whimpers, in this now empty home.
This page is a blessing for us in mourning a pet. The best I’ve come across on the internet in this sad time.
Thanks again.
January 21st, 2010 6:19 pm
Dear Christine,
Way back in 1991 I was given two Persian cats (1 black and 1 blue-grey) and I called them Flossy and Sooty. Young Flossy had been involved in an accident and the vet told me that she was a lovely cat but I shouldn’t hold out too much hope of her living a long life. But a long and fantastic life she lived. I had to take the decision this morning (Jan 21st, 2010) to have Flossy put to sleep. Kidney failure and arthritis had finally caught up with her. Words cannot express the sorrow I feel inside. It has taken me completely by surprise and I’ve found myself on the internet trying to get advice. Your words (and all the kind posts submitted) have been really helpful in realizing I’m not alone in my grief. It’s late evening as I type this and I miss my little devil so much. I held her and stroked her as she passed from this existence to the next. I know that when this raw pain has dulled I’ll be able to see the happiness we both gave each other. Sooty is still with me and I can tell he misses her too. We have each other for now, and while I know Sooty is also a ripe old age, I intend to make the most of his company and unconditional love until it’s his turn. Thanks once again for your lovely words and wisdom.
January 22nd, 2010 10:37 am
My heart goes out to you, John. One of the things about this post is that the comments that show up are always from someone who is experiencing the painful first moments of loss. In my infinite capacity for control-freakishness – I wish I could somehow take that away. I can let you know that time does heal the heartbreak. (though i still miss mr. patticus all the time!) And the gratitude piece (that Sooty existed at all) will become bigger and bigger too.