Reading through this forum has been helpful in dealing with my feelings of overwhelming grief and guilt over the death of my 17 year old cat, Shashka. She was dying slowly of cancer. She was not showing outward physical distress signs until about 2 weeks ago when she began refusing to eat and having troubles with her bowels and obvious physical weakness. We had thought she had manageable kidney problems. But, after watching her withdraw from her normal routine and her increasing weakness and weight loss, I took her back to the vet yesterday, who immediately sensed we were dealing with a much bigger problem. I could tell she was dying and that she was ready to go and that she was becoming, for all of her proud stoicism, uncomfortable and unhappy. I knew in my heart I needed to help her go. I could see that she wanted to go. But it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I have trouble swatting flies! I know death comes to every living thing. It is programmed into the map of our lives from birth, but losing a friend you love, no matter how logically you work it out in your brain, is painful and miserable. She showed me so much love as she lay dying that I could scarcely believe it. Just before the vet came to our home, she lifted her head and put it in my hands. I held her like that and talked to her and told her how much I loved her until it was over. She struggled when the vet came. She has always hated going to the vet and I know she could smell the vet's office on the doctor's coat and she howled when the needle went into her paw. I thought the pain this caused me would tear my heart into a million pieces. I have no doubt that she was going to die some time within a 24 hour period and that she was suffering. And I know her howl was more a personality thing--she always howled at the vet. She hated needles and handling by folks she didn't know. She was very haughty, white and fluffy and pretty and snooty to most but me. And I know from my experiences with her that she wanted to die. She didn't want to be fed or given pills or fluids. She howled in protest each time I tried to do a little to save her. I truly believe she thought that, as the needle slipped in, here we were, trying to pester and save her again. But I worry, though I know it's not logical, that I hurt her, when all I wanted to do was help and ease her pain. I know she knew I loved her, but getting past my guilt, my wild projections about her feelings at the end, is proving a bit of a tough thing. I know these things get better with time, but like others on this list, I expect to see her on her perch or around a corner and I think I do out of the corner of my eye and then I realize I wont see her again, and I cry. It's been less than 24 hours. I did not know I would grieve so much, especially when I could see how badly she was ready to go. Thank you for listening. I needed to come somewhere where I knew I could find people who would accept how strong my feelings are and how deep my sense of loss. My family is kind and supportive, but they do not grieve as deeply as me over this and so I do not feel I can really share my grief with them. Thank you to any readers and listeners.

I am very sorry for your loss. I know how it feels. My Indy had to be put to sleep as well for his health. He was 14 and one of my best friends. I know it is hard because my family moved on very quickly. But me I still cry for my Indy. I didn't think I could get through it. It sounds funny but my Indy had the same problem with the vet office and in the end he was scowling too. I know you feel guilty but don't (easier said than done). You did the best for your furbaby, one of your best friends. You had his/her health in mind not you or your feelings. I guess as humans we have to make this decision not just for our furbabies and we have to deal with the outcome. This is part of the grieving process . . . it is hard but we are resilent(sp?) people. Let yourself grieve for your lost friend, cry and do something in his/her honor. The hole will heal in time. Do come here and share your feelings or just read. The people here on LS are the most understanding and willing to help anyone here out. There are great stories about other furbabies and stories about their loss that makes you cry but you know that the people here understand your feelings and your loss. It has helped me to go through my grieving process. Please give it time and feel your loss and remember all the wonderful times you and your furbaby had together. And as everyone says here your furbaby is at the rainbow bridge, in bliss not pain and waiting for you when it is your time.
You are in my thoughts, ChrissyW

When my grandmother was dying, she was in her own head-space for months. She was in the hospital, and didn't seem to know what was going on. I came in one day, and she snapped out of her fog for long enough to recognize me, call me by my name, and tell me that she loved me. I told her I loved her, too. She asked me if I was happy, and I said that I was sorry to see her go, but that I was happy over-all. We talked for a bit longer, then she went back into the fog. She died a few days later. With what we shared, all of the years, all of the time, the only important thing was to let each other know that we loved each other. That was all that it came down to, this conversation before death. I was blessed to have shared it.

Guilt has been the toughest part of the grieving process for me. I believed I was doing the right thing by having my old boy put to sleep. But there were the doubts - some people who had cats with kidney problems treated and the cats lived happily for a few years, I had let it go for too long, I hadn't let it go for long enough, I let him suffer for me, etc. etc. etc. The broken record in the head - always trying to second-guess everything. No matter which road I decided to travel down, the guilt and questions would have been there. I had to finally tell myself that even if I had made some wrong decisions in this process, I could not have loved my poor boy more than I did. And that has helped me to come to grips with the guilt. I could have been a better "mom" to Oswald. I could have been a better granddaughter, better friend, better cousin, too. But I still loved.

I still feel some guilt, but now it is being tempered with the loving thoughts of him. I am remembering less of his last days, but more of the years that we spent together, more of when he was healthy and lively. Shashka will live on with you, too, in all of her ages and all of her forms.

I am so sorry for your loss. Shashka was a lucky girl - she got lots of love and a good life. And you were blessed, too, for the privilege of sharing your life with her. The grief is proof of how much you loved. The guilt seems to be an unfortunate part of the grief. But, like with my grandmother, it came down to how much you both loved each other. That is ultimately all that matters.

Dee Dee

Liz,
I am so sorry to hear about your Shashka. Dee Dee, I thank you for being able to respond to Liz with so much understanding and compassion and wisdom. I will try to respond more later, but at this moment, I feel so shattered too that I am unable to really do that right now. One thing I can say is that I understand how it felt when your baby screamed when the needle went in. My little Hannah did the same thing, and I can still hear her clearly and feel my anguish all over again.

I do feel your pain Liz, and I hurt for you too.
Marcia

Wow. I went out with my young son to run errands after posting my story and came back to these wonderful messages, full of compassion and good advice. You know what I think the best thing is? That I now know I am not alone. In grief, you feel so alone and if you continue to feel alone you are likely to dwell more, I think, and possibly become depressed. All of these things you are telling me I have known to be true since the moment I realized Shashka was dying. And, even more than my own wise little voice inside, Shashka showed me how to let go. She said good-bye in her little ways. She took a walk each morning outdoors, just for a minute because she was getting weak, and sat and would look out over the grass. Then she'd come inside and go into the closet and sleep. She turned away her food, chided me with a growl when I tried to make her eat, and then forgave me and let me pet her and purred to let me know I was forgiven. And when those last hours came, I stayed with her and she slept, breath shallow, eyes open to slits occasionally to see if I was there. But her whole posture was one of acceptance and no fear. I was afraid. I was the sad, crying one. She was ready to go whenever her body would let her. There is this clinging, fearful, doubtful person that tries to drown out what we know with our hearts--why, I don't know. But we need to cut through that ego-person and listen to the quiet voice. It's a lesson, not just for how we treat our dying pets, but for how we live. I feel so much better than I did this morning. I know I'm still going to cry over her and miss her, but the horrible, suffocating feeling of guilt is dwindling away. Pure love was the motivation for our choices, and we need to remember that and the good lives our pets lived and also remember that death was just a flicker in time at the end of a long, wonderful journey. Thank you DeeDee and Chrissy and Marcia and Karen. Peace be with you.

Dear Liz,

I am so sorry for the loss of your beloved Sashka. I too had to end my cat's suffering and it is terrible. I know the seccond guessing, the recriminations and guilt first hand. My Solas was a 16 year old american shorthair with a beautiful shiny black coat. Very haughty too, just like your girl. So proud and mad at all the fuss we made to help him. It was like, "Don't bother me with food, can't you see I'm busy dying".

I hope you find comfort here. We are a good group of those weird people who are too attached to their pets . You never have to worry about sounding strange to us. We have all been there and we can be there for you.

Ariel
ps write and tell us how you came up with such a beautiful name!

Dear Liz,
having to face what you DID face--!! bravo Liz!--you were there for Shaska. You weren't just there for the easy and good times---you were there for the most difficult time when Shaska needed you the most. And you did not shrink from your responsibility. You are the kind of owner ever pet should have--the one who is in it for the long haul. There are plenty of folks who wouldn't have allowed their pet to have the most comfortable departure due to their own squeamishness. And despite the howl you know that your dear pet's ending was far better than the alternative. I have a kitty that howls about everything--so I am betting your Shaska was just thinking "what now"? like you said--not a hurt howl but a "leave me be" howl. different meanings for sure.
That first day is the worst I think--there is the shock, numbness and that bizarre float-y feeling of loss--actually I had that for several days but every day got better of course. I know that you will continue to steadily feel better. Maybe you will post your Shaska's photo. I am looking to post a really good one some day of my fella. That's him there in my avatar.
You can always come here if you every feel down--(or up!) we are your "kindred spirits"--the ones who know just how you feel.
I bought a sun catcher and put it in the backyard for my kitty. It dangles from the tree that he was always sitting beneath. The design of it looks a little like tears..but now when I look at it, I smile instead of cry. I hope soon your tears will turn into smiles too
your kindred spirit, Patti

Thank you all again for so many lovely emails, sharing your stories and your support! All these departed animals were so well-loved! We can't forget that. Despite the sorrow of their passing, however it occurred, they were well-loved to the end, and they knew it, because we each made sure of that throughout their lives. I wish I had a picture of Shashka on hand to post. My photos are so disorganized, and I don't have the heart yet to rummage for one. I still see her in my mind very clearly, and she was pure white, so sometimes, when the sunlight strikes her perch really strongly, it reflects in a way that looks like very bright white-ness, and reminds me of her. Thanks to everyone, again, for all the kind words! I hope any new members reading through these stories in search of some comfort in their grief, as I did when I came here yesterday, will find the peace that I have found in sharing and knowing I am not alone.
Shashka means "saber" in Russian. It also means "checker". I adopted her in college when I happened to be taking my first course in Russian language. I meant to name her the Russian word for "cat" (which is actually "koshka"), but I confused the 2 words. But I did not change her name once I realized my mistake, because I thought "Shashka" was prettier and she did have very sharp little teeth and claws!
Namaste.

Liz,
I have many, many little "Buster" scars on my hands from his sharp little teeth! His name fit him
well too!

Glad you're doing better.....

Love,
Karen

Liz, heartfelt thanks for your kind and comforting answer to my post about Samantha. So hard to let go. So hard about that needle in the paw too - when Buddy went to sleep, the vet put in the canula, and he didn't like it, wanted to bite it and fuss with it, and I made up my mind then that if I had to go through that again, I'd ask the vet to do something else first. Samantha already had the needle in from her IV's, but when the vet started the first sedative, she cried out. Looking far into the future, when and if I get another cat, there will have to be an easier way, there must be something that doesn't hurt the pet at any part of the process.
I know those elusive shadows seen out of the corner of the eye so well, in certain places.... Samantha looking at those places...looking for Buddy.....but since she has been gone, there are no more shadows, and I comfort myself by thinking of them together at the Rainbow Bridge. Thanks again, and hugs to all here.

Hi,

You have my deepest sympathies. Parting with a loved one is never easy. Having to chose the time and place can make it seem unbearably cruel.

I had to let go of my beloved cat Sebastian just over a month and a half ago. He was eighteen and had been fighting several diseases include a Thyroid problem, kidney failure, and now some type of cancer. He was doing pretty well but had gone downhill over the last several months. When I took him to the vet for the last time it was not my intention to have him put to sleep. He was losing weight rapidly and the vet didn't give him more then a month to live. After talking with the vet, making the decision to let him go left me stunned. Saby was walking around and meowing up until the time the vet came back in the room. I held him as they put him to sleep. It was very peaceful but even now the guilt sometimes consumes me.

From what I have read here and on other sites this is very common. We all hope that they would pass peacefully in their sleep but things don't usually work that way.

Again, I am sorry you are going throught the pain of your loss. You are not alone.

Sincerely,

Josh

In Memory of Sebastian

Josh, what a beautiful kitty, and what a wonderful poem. Even the longest kitty lives are too short for us. Thanks for letting us see gorgeous Sebastian, and glad you came here to share with us.

"I was afraid. I was the sad, crying one. She was ready to go whenever her body would let her. There is this clinging, fearful, doubtful person that tries to drown out what we know with our hearts--why, I don't know. But we need to cut through that ego-person and listen to the quiet voice. It's a lesson, not just for how we treat our dying pets, but for how we live."

Your words, Liz, so true, so hard to "get" sometimes, so difficult to let go.

I am so glad you found this site and you got so many wonderful words of wisdom and understanding from all of these kind, loving people here. I want to add I'm 100% with what Athena said. They say it's painless, but now I've heard so many stories where it wasn't painless at all. There's got to be a better way. There's just got to be -- maybe a Valium pill or something so they will really be relaxed. I don't know. And I'm still upset that the vet gave Hannah the valium shot and she went to sleep immediately. He let me hold her only for a few minutes, and then he PUT HER TO SLEEP. I wish he'd have let me or asked me or I had thought to say, "can I please just hold her for awhile???" I told him this subsequently, and he apologized. That ought to be part of the option too.

There's just no good way to let them go. I suppose we would all pray that they would just peacefully die in our arms, but that wouldn't work either because we would still blame ourselves for not doing something! I think it would help a lot if more people were told what to expect and to be told to expect sooner or later to be utterly swamped with feelings of guilt. I don't know. It's just all too much sometimes, isn't it? I'm so glad we're all here for each other.

Bless you all.
Marcia
Baby Hannah's Mom and
Babe's Mom

Hello Everyone,
Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. I remember, just a few days ago, when my post was the latest post on this forum, and now there are so many more. People for whom grief is very fresh and painful as it was for me just a few days ago. And I am grateful for all the support I have received here, and that I have been able to offer support and the story of my experience, as well, as a way to comfort or answer the questions of others. Without this site, I think I'd still be in the deepest depths of my grief, mired in guilt and reliving death over and over, instead of remembering life and the goodness of it, able to move forward. It isn't easy or quick and there is still a lot of sadness, but the black sort of grief passes, if you work through it and don't get stuck in the crazy workings of your fretful mind. This site and the folks here have been a great source of comfort and support on that journey through the dark places. Thanks Josh and Marcia for your latest messages and for sharing your stories and thank you everyone. You are in my prayers.
Namaste
liz

liz, I can certainly relate to much of what you have shared. It will be a week tomorrow since we had to put our dear cat, Chuchelo, to sleep. She was feral when we took her in and was always afraid of the vet and other outsiders until she came to know them very well. I was so afraid that she would be frightened and I feel in the end, that she wasn't, that it went as well as this sort of thing could kind of go.

As your dear cat slipped away, I believe she, too, was easing into peace. The price of love is pain when parted. And we did love!