The Grief of Losing Your Best Friend

I wanted to kick off this blog by speaking about one of my past experiences with grief - one so painful that I denied myself the ability to grieve, even though it was a major loss in my life. The loss I will be talking about is my childhood cat: Biggs. Yes, if you're imagining a very robust looking cat, then you'd be right.

When I was 9, my dad found a post in the paper (yes, the paper) for a cat that just had a litter of kittens. We drove out to someone's backyard where I picked out a cat that I was immediately drawn to. She was so small and so pretty, full of stripes and colors of orange, white, gray, tan and black - she had it all! I don't remember how old she was at the time, but her eyes were definitely a gray blue and hadn't changed to the bright green they became later. It was $40 to take her home, but the companionship and unconditional love she gave me for 16 years was priceless.

I can see why people get emotional support animals because her presence was incredibly soothing and sweet. She was always ready to cuddle up on your lap, or sleep next to you in bed, or full spread out on the carpet in bliss. She was a great cat and a great friend. Anytime I was upset or crying, she was right there and new the mission. Her comfort got me through some of the hardest times (*cough* high school). Even when I had my kid at 21, she never tried any act of aggression against him. My kid in a way grew up with her too, at least until age 4, and loved her so much.

A little before the pandemic, I had noticed Biggs was developing a cyst on her mouth. I took her to the vet where they told me it was probably a follicule that had gotten clogged and most likely wasn't bothering her. "It should go away on it's own," they said. A few months later, she started to lose weight. Drastically. Her bowls were not working as they should. Now we were in the pandemic, in a one bedroom apartment, with my husband and toddler. Both of us were let go from work due to the pandemic and worried about having enough money to last us through the shutdown.

She got to be as light as a feather and her yowling became too much, whether it was from pain or just being senile. It was keeping us up at night and her quality of life was diminishing. Even allowing her to walk around and keep the carpet clean was impossible. She couldn't clean herself the way she used to, so we kept her in a strip of space in the living room which only contributed to a life of confinement. I finally made the decision to put her down in May of 2020. The hardest part to making that decision is not knowing IF it's time, but I knew with our current circumstances, we couldn't afford to run tests and scans and to keep her hanging on for as long as she could. Who's to say that's the right thing to do anyway?

I remember, in order to be "strong" enough for my family and to not cry, I numbed myself. To me, convincing myself that it was her time and there's nothing I could do meant that I should accept this cycle of life and that losing my best friend was inevitable. I knew this day would come, so I completely denied my ability to be sad about it. When the day came, I stayed stone-faced and stoic.

We had an in-house euthanasia, which was nice for her to not be in a sterile office on a cold, hard table. It was also about the only service I could find since most offices were closed due to Covid. We were all masked up and had a beloved blanket on the floor ready to go when a woman came to our place in the afternoon. The first thing she said when she saw Biggs was, "Are you sure she doesn't have a thyroid condition?"

That made me second guess everything. I started to panic and second guess everything, but knew, once again, that I didn't have money to save my elder cat and that she was really struggling. I also showed the lady the growth on my cat's mouth which didn't "go away on it's own." So, we went through with it. As some are aware, 2 shots of euthanasia are given to an animal to slowly put them out... but Biggs was gone within a minute of the first one. It made me feel better to know it was quick. The lady, herself, was surprised that Biggs was gone that quickly and assured me, then, that it was her time by that evidence.

Still, I didn't cry as my cat's breathing became fainter and eventually stopped. My mom, however, let out her tears fully which surprised me. She was so vulnerable in front of me, my husband, and this stranger. Of course, I knew it was completely natural, but since I apparently mentally prepared myself for this (more like hardened) I couldn't shed a single tear. After she was gone, I immediately went back to normal life and did my best not to think about it, but it haunted me in ways I never considered. I was more irritable, less patience, and just generally less happy and satisfied with life.

Anytime Biggs entered my mind, I quickly distracted myself with other things. I had guilt that I scorned myself for, wondering if I should have put her down sooner, if I should have figured out a way find money to extend her life, all the times I may not have been nice to her. The one thing I didn't do was work through my grief. 4 years later, I finally did.

The more I dove into my self-study, the more it became apparent that I was going to have to face many hard feelings and pain that I had buried in order to forgive, heal and move on without it weighing on me. It was the only way for me to be free of what was causing me internal harm. This was one of the first events that I addressed.

I took her box of ashes that I keep in my home, by my front door, and I started writing out everything I wanted to tell her, both before she passed and now she was gone. I wrote about my regrets, the things I loved about her, what she meant to me, the pain caused by holding in my emotions, and vowed to be more like her. I know that sounds weird because she's not human and can't fully comprehend the complexities of life, but she displayed affection and companionship more than any other person had. Here are some of the things she taught me:

1. Be there for the ones you love, in times of play, rest, distress and transitions.

2. Treat people with understanding and compassion - not judgement.

3. Always make time and show up for the people you care about.

4. Love what you have while you have it.

To this day, I can cry about Biggs and still do because I really, really miss her. Sometimes you don't get over things and I'm beginning to think that's the way situations like this should be. Anyone who tells you to "get over it" when it comes to loss is completely insensitive. Please never think something is wrong with you because you're not over your loss. Everyone processes things at their own speed and no one can judge you based on how they handle similar situations.

Despite the pain and grief, I love the time I had with her and I would never wish to have experienced life without her. I'm comfortable saying that she made me a better person. That love and connection we had between each other remains inside of me and reminds me how I want to treat people with respect, care, kindness and without conditions. Pets can 100% change your life and perspective for the better, and I can see why so many people have emotional support animals. In fact, I feel like I wasn't a mess until I lost her, or at least my anxiety wasn't as overwhelming and I could process my emotions with a friend. I was so very lucky to have her and I hope everyone can have a special companion like Biggs in their lives as well.

Feel free to share your own experience with the loss of a pet in your life. We are here for you!

Take Care,

Teddi

(Owner/Contributor)