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A Light in my Life Has Gone Out.
5 years ago
I am very fortunate in my life.
I have a family that is supportive. That helped me through the moments of life where I was at my worst, helped me succeed and grow.
I have a warm home. I have friends. I have wonderful pets that always bring me cheer.
One of them had to leave today.
Pavarotti, or Pava for short, was a lovable, vocal orange tabby cat that I met when he was barely big enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Among his siblings, he sought me out, crawled his way into my lap and into my heart. He was often remarked as a "little me", taking after my mannerisms, never leaving my side for long, and always loudly proclaiming when I was home or when he wanted my attention and affection. He was, by all sakes and purposes, a fragment of my very self.
Cancer snuck into him all too sudden. Even though he struggled to breathe, he still sang proudly for me, always forced his way into my lap, always snuck in by my side at night.
Even though he could barely stomach his food any longer, even though he labored to do much more than just perch in his soft spots on my bed, on my couch, on my lap, he always seemed to do it happily. Always cherishing each pet, each scritch, each second he was with me.
The veterinarian told me today that while his body seemed okay now, it was only a matter of time before the cancer in his body would slowly suffocate him.
I said my good byes. I told him I loved him. I said I was sorry I could not do anything more. He gave one last meow, nuzzled my hand, and then I had to leave. I couldn't watch my baby boy die. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing his normally cheery, wobbly self go still and stiff.
As I sit here, my only remaining pet cat Dust sitting in my lap, I hope he understood that I couldn't watch him pass away. Part of me feels like a coward. Terrified that he would slip away, wondering where I was, why I couldn't protect him as the light faded.
He's gone.
And a part of me went with him.
I have a family that is supportive. That helped me through the moments of life where I was at my worst, helped me succeed and grow.
I have a warm home. I have friends. I have wonderful pets that always bring me cheer.
One of them had to leave today.
Pavarotti, or Pava for short, was a lovable, vocal orange tabby cat that I met when he was barely big enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Among his siblings, he sought me out, crawled his way into my lap and into my heart. He was often remarked as a "little me", taking after my mannerisms, never leaving my side for long, and always loudly proclaiming when I was home or when he wanted my attention and affection. He was, by all sakes and purposes, a fragment of my very self.
Cancer snuck into him all too sudden. Even though he struggled to breathe, he still sang proudly for me, always forced his way into my lap, always snuck in by my side at night.
Even though he could barely stomach his food any longer, even though he labored to do much more than just perch in his soft spots on my bed, on my couch, on my lap, he always seemed to do it happily. Always cherishing each pet, each scritch, each second he was with me.
The veterinarian told me today that while his body seemed okay now, it was only a matter of time before the cancer in his body would slowly suffocate him.
I said my good byes. I told him I loved him. I said I was sorry I could not do anything more. He gave one last meow, nuzzled my hand, and then I had to leave. I couldn't watch my baby boy die. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing his normally cheery, wobbly self go still and stiff.
As I sit here, my only remaining pet cat Dust sitting in my lap, I hope he understood that I couldn't watch him pass away. Part of me feels like a coward. Terrified that he would slip away, wondering where I was, why I couldn't protect him as the light faded.
He's gone.
And a part of me went with him.
We're all here for you!
I'm so sorry ; -;
I'm sure Pava would have very much understood why you couldn't stay. If it's any comfort I can say that this was the least distressing option between the two.
I've recently lost my dog to a hit and run driver. It's never easy to say goodbye. If you need anyone to talk, I'm of course open.
Spend time with Dust and give him lots of love. You never know when they won't be around anymore and and you never want to be left feeling you should have spent more time with your loved ones.