I’m sorry for your loss.

Growing up on a quasi-farm we had quite a few animals. With that being the case, we also had them pass away over time. Recently I had to give up both my cats to a friend due to my wife’s allergies. I cried so much because I truly loved them. Over the past 2 years we picked up two dogs. They are wonderful, but a handful compared to our cats.

Death is a scary thing. It is a sad thing. No matter how hard I try to be optimistic about “eternity”, I just can’t shake my fear of death. I’ll keep you in my prayers homie.

KK

I felt a similar need to write about loss when our oldest cat, Max, passed on.

The responses I received were very touching and helped a lot.

No, don’t get another cat right away. That is the most direct path to disappointment, because the next cat will never be the same cat. (The same with dogs.)

I also don’t think I’ll get another car after she passes.

You never mentioned her name?

A big hug from me. And really, if you don’t feel right about getting another cat, then trust your gut feeling and forget what your family says — well-meaning though they are. A couple of years ago, the eight-month-old kitten that my husband and I had adopted with Horus (we named her Nekita) was diagnosed with FIV. The vet said she’d probably had it since birth. She’d been getting lethargic, cried all the time, and didn’t want to eat anything. She also couldn’t control her muscles very well, couldn’t jump, couldn’t get to the litterbox in time (which really distressed her). She was also going blind. We didn’t have the heart to keep her this way and decided to put her down. I cried all the way home. She’d been with us for only four months, but it still ripped me up inside. That night my husband held me and comforted me, saying that at least she lived out her last months with us, in an actual home and surrounded by love, instead of alone and more scared at the animal shelter we got her from.

We didn’t get another cat for half a year, until we found this black kitten crying near the street. She was full of fleas, thin, and quite scruffy. Took her to the vet, cleaned her up, took care of the flea problem (after she inadvertantly infested the entire apartment!), and named her Bastet.

I still think of Nekita, but memories of her don’t hurt anymore. I always knew I’d adopt another cat when the timing was right — it may sound sentimental and really stupid, but I always thought that Nekita would’ve liked it, that I was taking care of another fellow feline and giving it a good life.