Trigger warning: Pet death, euthinasia, whatever. This is a vent, don't read if you don't want to.

You were never meant to be mine. I remember the day you were born, April 24th 2012. Dorothy's last litter of kittens before being spayed. Back then your name was Sugar, and you were the last born of the litter of 5. By that point I already had two other cats, and mom really really didn't want anymore. She vowed to get both our other cats spayed once the kittens were done nursing.

The litter grew older, eventually weaned, and were then given away. All except one. Poor little Sugar was the last pick of the litter, and try as we might we simply couldn't get rid of you. I, with my soft spot for animals, begged and pleaded to keep you. Just one more cat, it would be fine. Mom couldn't say no to my puppy dog eyes, and with that you were destined to stay with me for the rest of your life.

In order to differentiate the male and female kittens of the litter we gave all of you little ribbons. We were going to do pink for the girls and blue for the boys, but mom had ran out of pink. Instead, we used green for the girls. Once I knew you were mine the first thing I did was change your name. There was nothing wrong with the name "sugar", but I was 11 and couldn't spell to save my life. I got very, very frustrated that autocorrect couldn't tell what word I was trying to spell any time I tried to spell your name. I always spelled it "Shuger". Your green ribbon and fuzzy brown fur reminded me of a kiwi, and the name Kiwi stuck. It was much easier to spell.

You've been with me ever since. You were there when I graduated elementary school, middle school, high school, and even my college certificate. Hell, you were there in my graduation photos. I remember mom drove us out to this big field during the fall when all the grass was golden and the leaves were orange and red. It was freezing that day, and getting you to look at the camera for the photographer was a nightmare because you were so cold all you could do was nuzzle your face into my chest to keep the wind off.

You were there for me during my darkest times. Before I was diagnosed with OCD, when I didn't know what the hell was going on with my mind. Back when I was so paranoid I couldn't speak. You were there when I fell off my bike and bruised my ribs. You cuddled me through every panic attack, illness, injury, bad day, whatever. You were there for me when grandpa died, when grandma went to the hospital. When I moved away from home. You were there when I ended up in the ER due to an extremely rare reaction to my anxiety medication. You were there after I got eye surgery, and after I got my wisdom teeth removed.

All my childhood pets slowly passed away, one by one. First it was Dorothy, your mother. Then it was Josie, the cat my family got two months before I was born. You were the last one left, and you were only twelve. Josie made it to 18 before passing away. Dorothy would have made it longer if my damn neighbors didn't take her away from us before her time. Twelve is elderly, yes, but it didn't seem that old.
You were always there for me. We've stuck through this crazy messed up world for 12 years together. You were my muse, my baby, a source of inspiration, a friend. I don't know what I'm going to do without you. Even now it doesn't feel real. This morning you were alive, and now you're gone. I've never gotten the choice to put an animal to sleep before. All of my other pets made the choice for me. But you were so sick, and so weak. I know you held on for me, but there was nothing anyone could do. Your meds didn't help, and even if they had they would have just been delaying the inevitable. A young, healthy cat would have only had a 50% chance at recovering. You were not a young or healthy cat.

You were the last piece of my childhood, and now you're gone. Everyone keeps telling me you're in a better place now. You aren't in pain anymore, but I don't believe there's any "better place". What better place could there be? The best place was right here, at home with me. But life doesn't work that way. I believe you're at peace now. You don't have to be in pain anymore. Your body isn't killing itself anymore, and you're not forced to fight against it. I don't believe in an afterlife, not really, but I do want to believe. I don't know where you are now, but wherever it is know that I love you. I'll always love you. Don't ever doubt that for a second.

Be at peace now, my dear sweet baby. You don't have to fight anymore. Don't worry about me. I promise I'll be ok. Eventually.

Rest in peace, Kiwi. April 24th 2012 - October 1st 2024. You will be desperately missed.