It was two or three days after the Fourth of July, 1993, I held Flo in the palm of my hand. Her eyes weren't open yet. I took one look at her and I said to myself "This is my kitty from heaven." I think it was because she looked like the kitten version of my cat who'd just died that May (at the ripe old age of Lord knows). Same brown tabby coat. Same white fluff on her snout.

Flo's mother, Natalie Cat, was a pregnant stray who a friend of a friend had taken in.

I ended up adopting Flo and Natalie Cat and they were inseparable friends until Natalie died in July '07. Flo never did have another full time companion, but she did entertain a steady stream of visitors, human, feline and canine. She treated everyone with a certain baseline of hospitality-- even dogs and her temporary housemate Sancho, a veritable Zorba the Greek of the Cat World-- but some of her friends she really loved. You know how cats have their favorites. Well, Flo definitely had her favorites. My buddy Matt we used to tell him don't sit down until you're sure you don't need to get up for a while, because as soon as he'd sit down, she'd climb on his lap and sit there waiting for him to say something. And then anything he'd say she'd look up at him and purr and knead his leg.

"Yeah I'll have a beer." [Look up. Purr. Knead.]

"REI is having a sale. I'm thinking about getting some thicker socks." [Look up. Purr. Knead.]

It took so little to make Flo happy. I think that's one of the greatest gifts she gave me. She made me see all there is to be happy about in the world. Looking out the window. Listening to the birds. Reading your book. (Or in Flo's case, helping others to read their books.) "Look." She seemed to say to me. "Look how much there is to be happy about, to be thankful for. Sunshine. Birds. Music. Friends. Each other."

A week ago Wednesday, Flo died. I'm not even sure what exactly was killing her. Her health had been in decline for a couple of years. The last night of her life, she was acting like a cat who was about to die. We'd been treating her for an eye infection, and I told the vet "I don't think this is just an eye infection. I think her immune system is shutting down, and the only humane option at this point is euthanasia."

The vet agreed with me. He said he thought possibly a slow growing tumor had weakened her to the point where she was getting opportunistic infections.

Now this vet is a mobile vet, so Flo passed on very comfortably in her favorite spot on the bed with her two main people on either side of her. Couldn't have been more peaceful or gentle.

So how do I feel? I feel like the guilt truck ran me over and as I was trying to crawl out of the street the grief truck came around the corner and ran me over all over again.

I think I've managed to drag myself to the curb, but it feels like all I can do is sit here and think "Maybe it wasn't a slow growing tumor. Maybe it was me. Maybe I should have paid attention to Flo's symptoms instead of just telling myself 'She's an old cat. Don't worry about it. Besides, if you drag her to the vet for every little thing, you'll just stress her out.'"

And then there's sadness, the emptiness, the loneliness that we all feel, that I see here in every post. Every time I doze off reading a book, I wake up and I look for Flo. And my heart breaks all over again.

Kurt, I am so so sorry for your loss. You gave your kitty such an amazing long life! I lost my kitty in March and I am still a mess. It does get better. When they first are gone it is hard to deal with their absence because you are so used to seeing them everywhere you look. But as time goes by you adjust to it. Try to cherish your happy memories and take comfort in knowing you gave her a fabulous life.
Please accept my condolences.
(((hugs)))

Thank you missy so much. If I could have gone through another seventeen years with her, or a hundred, I'd do it. I wouldn't have to think twice about it. She was such a joy. A fluffy little ball of joy from heaven.

I'm so sorry for your loss, Kurt. Your kitty is just beautiful,by the way. You're right. The sadness, emptiness and lonliness is just overwhelming and I know how your heart is breaking.
Try not to let the guilt get the best of you. It is natural to feel these emotions, but you are not to blame. Cry, grieve and hurt the loss of her, but don't feel guilty. You were a good and loving parent.
My heart goes out to you. I hope you find comfort soon.
Hugs.....Berta

An amazing life you gave her...from the palm of your hand, to the place in your heart. A friend just put down her cat today, 23 years old, still walking and eating, but stumbling and shaking and a bit confused. I know it's hard saying goodbye to Flo, still looking for her, still wondering if you did the right thing. Time is merciless when it comes to our pets. I wish you well.

Dennis

I feel so bad for you Kurt. I have a similar story about Nik. when She was a kitten six weeks old we took her to the vet for her first check up when we got her and I was holding her on the way home; she looked up at me and put her little paws in the palm of my hand. That was one of the first events that would create the loving bond I had with her. I feel your sadness, emptiness and lonliness. I keep telling myself it will get better but in some ways even that is sad; even the grief in some way is like holding on to her. But I know it will get better and the memories will be sweet then instead of painful.

I too feel really badly for you, Kurt. It is SO hard to let go of the bodies of our critters, even if we know that the love survives. Flo had a good long run, and you did everything you could to make her life, and the ending of her life, comfortable and happy.

Second-guessing is torture. As I said in a post to Rhapsedy, sometimes we see things with hindsight that we didn't know at the time, but that's why it's called "hindsight" instead of "insight." And in your case, you don't know that there was anything at all that you could have done to prolong Flo's life. She was probably just ready to leave--and when that's the case, we can't stop the process no matter WHAT we do.

But I know the pain is hard to bear, and am very sorry that you are having to endure it. I just got a new kitten, and inevitably, having just lost Ladywolf about a month ago, I have already thought ahead to the eventual loss of this kitten, and wondered just how bonded I really want to become...

You WILL feel better in time, you really will.

Big hugs from Margi, Spiritwolf, and Leopold the Great

Thank you, everybody. I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me. This forum has been a huge blessing to me. Just to be able to see that my experience is so similar to others'.

I'm at a stage now where I want to know what specifically was Flo's terminal condition. Was it cancer? A weakened immune system from old age? Some weird cat disease I never heard of before? And I guess why that's happening is I want to know that there was nothing I could have done to prevent her death. I think if the vet told me "Yeah, she had lymphoma. It was just a matter of time. Nothing you could have done," maybe that would make me feel better. I've been told again and again let go of the guilt, stop second guessing yourself, but it's hard for me to let go of that.

Flo had a little bit of a weepy eye about six weeks before she died. I didn't think a thing of it. I just wiped her face with a washcloth. Then very suddenly about a week later, her eye got infected and she developed a corneal ulcer. The eye had to be removed. She did fine as a one-eyed cat for about three weeks, but then the other eye became started developing the same symptoms. Corneal ulcer, infection. I rushed her to the kitty cat eye doctor, and he gave me all kinds of antibiotics and antivirals to give her and said bring her back in two days.

But then it was like Flo just crashed. The infection got worse. She got weak. That's when I told the mobile vet I thought her immune system had shut down, and that's why she was getting these infections. And like I said, he agreed with me.

But I go back to that weepy eye incident, and I think "What would have happened if I'd intervened then instead of a week later?"

I guess part of the process is forgiving yourself for not doing something that might have made a difference. I don't know if I've forgiven myself yet.

Dear Kurt

Your darling Flo sure is a beautiful Kitty. What wonderful times you shared. The 'what if's' happen to all who share that wonderful bond with a fur baby, we feel so responsible for them , that we always question if we did the right thing at the right time. In hindsight, I'm sure that we follow our hearts and instinctively we know what we should do for our darlings at the time, no matter how hard it is. It's afterwards that the questions start popping up. It's so clear that your love for Flo made you make the right decisions for her.
I'm sorry that I didn't reply earlier. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your dear Angel Flo, who will be watching over you, knowing how much you always have and always will love her.
Hugs
Jan and my Angels and Pixie xx

I talked to my counselor about my guilt issues yesterday afternoon. I think I'm doing a little better with that.

This morning as I was walking to work, I said to myself "You know, kurt_t, your pet is always going to die of something. And no matter what your pet dies of, you can look back at some point in your pet's decline or before your pet's decline and say 'What if I'd done X at that point? Would my pet have lived longer? Or would my pet have been more comfortable? Or would my pet have experienced less pain at the end?' But at some point you just need to tell yourself you did the best you could."

When we first put Flo down two weeks ago, I remember thinking "This would have been so much easier if I hadn't had to make the decision to euthanize Flo, if she'd just died in her sleep." But then I came here, and I read stories from people whose animals had died that way, and they felt guilty. That was such a revelation to me. I thought, "Oh yeah, I guess I would still feel guilty if Flo had died in her sleep."

The counselor said for me to give up my guilt means I have to give up the idea that I had control over Flo's death. I don't know if I'm ready to accept that.

There's the reasonable part of me that says "Flo was almost 17. There's only so much you can do. Just be thankful for the time you had with her and move on."

And then there's the other part of me that says "You blew it. You messed up. Figure out exactly when and where and how you messed up so you can beat yourself over the head with it until the day you die."

I know that's not a healthy place to be, but I keep getting stuck there.

Kurt, keep telling yourself this over and over because it is SO true and So right. I can't stress enough how spot on that is!

I think it's normal to feel guilt over our babies death, no matter how it happened. My baby died during the anesthetic prior to an operation trying to remove a cancerous tumor from her womb. I kept thinking to myself, "If only I didn't agree to that operation." But then I eventually realized that I'd been beating myself for no reason - if she never had the operation, the cancer would have killed her, and it would have been a slow, painful death, so at least she went peaceful. The point is we DON'T have any control over it. Everything has to physically die at some point. Bodies die, but love doesn't.

Try to let go of the guilt. You won't be able to heal until you do.

Hugs, Cheryl x

It's so hard, isn't it Kurt, when the voice of reason tells us one thing and our feelings tell us something else? But I agree with Cheryl--choosing guilt is only going to impede your healing process. And you are clearly CHOOSING it, since you have such a good understanding of the realities of life and death. All things must come to an end--especially bodies. They give out, finally, in one way or another, no matter what we do to try to prolong their existence in this plane.

Your counselor is right--guilt is about US, not our lost loved ones. It's about how much we think we can control, or could have controlled, inevitable circumstances. As they say in AA, "Let go, and let God." (Or your Higher Power, or nature, or whatever you believe in.) Give yourself a break, and be gentle on yourself. Sounds like you're making the grieving process a lot harder than it needs to be.

But I do understand the grief, and the feeling of helplessness in a situation like your's with Flo. I am so sorry that she passed on without you knowing exactly why. My Ladywolf DID die at home just 5 weeks ago today, peacefully and gracefully and even almost painlessly, I believe, but I will never know exactly what it was that got her. Her cancer? Her diabetes? Just her old age? But I don't worry about that part at all. Something took her, and I was lucky that it happened so gently. You were not so lucky. But what occurred with Flo was inevitable.

Take it easy on yourself!

Big hugs from Margi, Spiritwolf, and Leopold

I am really working on the guilt. That is the hardest part of this process for me. Did I say that already?

I started reading Surviving your Crises, Reviving Your Dreams, which somebody posted a link to over in the "helpful links" part of the forum. I think that is helping.

I think that I don't really understand what the guilt is doing in my head or how it works. I just know it keeps intruding.

I've been thinking more about this. I wonder if we subconsciously hold on to the guilt because it gives us something to focus on? Maybe, in a strange way, it actually helps us to cope with the raw loss. It prevents us from moving over to the "acceptance" stage of grieving, which is probably the most painful part. It gives us something to dwell on to take the attention off the fact that they're gone and we're never going to see them again. So maybe when we're struggling to let go off the guilt, it's because we're not ready to move onto that stage yet.

Just a thought.

Hang in there, Kurt. And keep working on it.

Cheryl x

Thanks, everybody. I think I'm doing a little better with the guilt today. I started telling myself that the guilt is something I'm imposing on myself. Nobody else is imposing it on me. Not God, not society, not my friends, not the vet, not my spouse, not Flo. Just me. And I can choose to let go of it. So that's what I'm going to try to do. I don't think it's going to happen instantaneously, but I think I can start making some progress.

I'm glad to hear your doing better today Kurt. I'm also doing better this week. But, having said that I believe Cheryl83 is right about holding on to the guilt, to all the grief for that matter. When I find myself doing better or moving towards acceptance that in itself is in some ways sad because I'm afraid that by moving on, not grieving, I will start to lose touch with Nikita or forget her. I know in my logical mind that I won't ever forget her but emotionally I'm afraid to let go of the grief because it's like letting go of her. This process is very complicated. Try to keep strong.

John

I kind of agree with Cheryl--I think that we do hold onto grief so because otherwise we're afraid that we might lose "that lovin' feeling." But don't you think, guys, that it's possible to hold onto grief without holding onto guilt too? I know that I'm still grieving Ladywolf, and that she is still around me, but I don't feel a shred of guilt anymore. Of course, I was very lucky in the way that she passed...

I'm glad to hear that you're both doing better, Kurt and John. It's a slow, painful journey, this grieving process, and different (and yet in some ways the same) for each of us, depending upon how our psyches are constructed. It IS a complicated process. People can tell us, "I know just how you feel," and yet even we here on this Forum can't know EXACTLY how each other feels, because we haven't lost the same pets. A big part of our histories dies with our pets, and that's hard to take too... That, for me, has been the hardest part of this--that only Ladywolf knew of everything that we had gone through together for almost 15 years...

Hang in there--it WILL get better!

Big Hugs from Margi, Spiritwolf, and Leopold the Terrible

Kurt, I am so sorry for your loss. She was such a sweet looking kitty. Deciding to put them to sleep it is one of the hardest and kindest gifts you can give them. You sensed something was going on with her. You made the right decision. We can't live in the what if's. We have to live in the right now. That's what our beloved companions would want us to do. Grieving is one of the worst feelings I have ever had. You will have better days down the line. This pet loss support forum helped me so much in those dark days. Please feel free to talk about whatever you are going through. We are here for you.

Karen -MishasMom

Thank you Margi, and Karen and John. I have been feeling a lot of free floating anxiety. I think in the back of my mind I'm waiting for somebody to tell me what I did wrong that made Flo die. But intellectually I know that's crazy. She was almost 17 and she'd been in declining health for two years. Last night on the way home from work, I had a really good talk with a a really good friend of mine, the kind of friend who can be really frank with you. He said "You know you're not God. You don't have the power to make your cat immortal." And he showed me how my guilt feelings were based on irrational thinking.

I think that conversation was a real turning point for me. I think it started pointing me in the right direction. Not that I'm all the way out of the "what ifs," but I'm on my way out.

I filled out an application today for Pets Are Wonderful Support, a volunteer organization that helps elderly and disabled people keep their pets. They deliver food, do grooming, scoop the litter box, all that sort of thing. We're going to have a person staying with us in the Fall who's allergic to most cats (but was not allergic to Flo), and I don't think we're emotionally ready transition to a new pet yet, so I figure this is a way for me to get back in the game and give me something positive to focus on.

As Churchill said, "If you're going through hell, keep going."

Speaking of going, I'm going on a counselor-recommended camping trip tomorrow morning, so I won't be online probably until Wednesday night.

Thank you thank you thank you, everyone, for helping me through this part of my life. I don't know how I would have made it without you. Flo is giving you spiritual leg rubs from Kitty Heaven, I can just feel it.

Kurt,

It sounds like it's getting close to the month anniversary of Flo's passing. You had a special bond with Flo, starting from the moment you held her in your palm of your hand. And your friend was right, we can't play God or control things. Like the old saying, "we can't control people, places or things." One doesn't get over the guilt, pain, loss, missing, sorrow, hurt, emptiness and all the feelings...espcially after just one month, compared to 17 years of a life together. I hope your time aways brings you a sense of healing. Take care.

Dennis

Kurt, what you wrote on Zola's thread was absolutely beautiful! Thank you for your words to her. They were a comfort to me. You are so right about there being so many poor souls who need sad souls like us. And you are so right about no matter how the end happens, we battle our guilt. I'm sorry for your loss. I hope your camping trip was everything you needed. And kudos to you for getting involved in the volunteer organization. As my parents are getting older, I often worry about their future abilities to take care of their pets. I don't live near them so I can't help them. Thank you for doing what you're doing.
I hope today will be a calm one for you.
-Donna

I'm going back to work this morning. It's been almost four weeks since Flo died. The doctor put me on Paxil for a couple months. I feel like I'm up one moment and down the next. My camping trip did seem to help a little. I feel like it got me outside of my head a little bit. One thing I did on the camping trip that seemed to help was I read Joan Didion's book, The Year of Magical Thinking. It's about how she dealt with her husband's death. It made me see how crazy some of my own thinking has been in the past four weeks. I guess it's normal to be crazy in these circumstances.

Here's the last picture I took of Flo. It's from two weeks before she died. I've done some research, and I feel just about certain now that she had cancer, and that's what knocked out her immune system and caused those two eye infections. I was talking to a friend yesterday whose 11-year-old cat died of cancer around the same time Flo died. This cat had a history very much like Flo. He kept losing weight, but every time my friend took the cat to the vet, all tests came back normal, blood work, urinalysis, everything. Then a sonogram or x-ray or something showed a small mass in the intestines. Vet said "OK, I can remove that no problem." But the vet discovered during surgery that that mass was only an offshoot of a bigger, inoperable mass that had never been detected. The cat had to be put down.

So I guess that just goes to show how cancer can be so hard to diagnose in a cat, and it doesn't help that they're such stoic creatures. They really know how to hide those symptoms.

I think it helps me to know that Flo most likely had cancer. I think I can finally let go of the guilt now. As I've been told here, "What happened to Flo was inevitable." I think I'm finally at a place where I can accept that now. Thanks, everybody.

What a pretty kitty Flo was, Kurt, even when she was sick. I'm so sorry again for your loss.

Ladywolf trundled along with visible cancers for more than two years. Although I knew that she had cancer on her legs, I did NOT know what was going on inside her. She never once complained about the cancers. I suspect, but don't know, that the cancer had gone systemic by the time she died. She was 15, which is old for a wolf-hybrid, so I didn't worry too much about the cause of her passing, since she was also diabetic.

I'm glad that you are reaching a place of acceptance with all this. Old bodies give out--it's that simple--but so complex for us afterwards, isn't it? All the questioning and worrying about the decision we made, all the second-guessing, when often the tired old body is just ready to let go.

Peace and grace be with you in your healing process!

Hugs from Margi, Spiritwolf, and Leopold the Bold

Kurt,
I am so sorry about your precious Flo. Our stories are somewhat similar. This past Tuesday I had to let my beautiful brown tabby George go. He too was 17 (born in 1993). I had just lost a cat back then and my sisters felt bad for me and came over with this little brown fluff ball kitten to try to cheer me up. Honestly I was really annoyed at them for bringing him in. Of course I held him in the palm of my hand and those big beautiful eyes sucked me right in. I was hooked and here I am 17 1/2 years later lost without him. Last Tuesday his breathing seemed labored. My vet was closed so I took him to the 24hr local pet emergency center. They said he was critical and put him on oxygen immediately. After several discussions with the vet I decided to let him go. I think the guilt truck and grief truck headed my way after it left you. I got to say goodbye to him and he was in an incubater like cubicle with oxygen so he was sitting there all bright eyed looking around. Not what I expected to see. I questioned the vet as to why he looked so "good" and she said it was the oxygen and sedative. He would not have been able to breathe outside of it (like the boy in the bubble I guess). I pet him in his favorite spots and he seemed a little dazed and oblivious to my presence. I guess it was the drugs. I waited in the waiting room for the vet to tell me it was done. It took all of 3 minutes I think. I keep picturing him there so "alert" and the guilt and grief overwhelm me again. Did I do the right thing? Did I let him down? Did he know I was there? Was he scared?
So many questions. Good old guilt, the gift that keeps on giving. My regular vet told me it was the hard decision, but right decision when I spoke to him on Wednesday. I still can't believe he's gone. Like you I keep expecting him to pop up in one of his usual spots. He was a declawed indoor cat so he was always nearby. I was folding laundry yesterday and I swore I saw him walking down the hall towards me. Just wishful thinking I guess. Even though our beloved cats were 17 we don't expect them to leave us, even though we know logically that they eventually will. When it becomes reality it is unbearable. Everyone on this board is so compassionate and truly understands what the other is going through. It is a good place for all of us to come for support. Take care of yourself and know that Flo was an extremely lucky cat to have found you as were you to have had her in your life. So many cats in the world don't get a chance for such a loving home for so many years.

Dear Jenga--

I am so very sorry for your loss of your precious George. I know it feels right now like you can barely breathe yourself, so remember to breathe! (And eat.)

Labored breathing is often a sign that the body is shutting down naturally. My Ladywolf was in that state for three hours before she died, at home, peacefully and relatively free from pain, I think. I'm sure that with oxygen she might have lasted a little longer too, but I didn't want to undertake any heroic measures, so I didn't. People go into that state too--that's how I knew that the hours had come in which my own father would die--he started gasping for breath. So even though George got a little boost from the oxygen, I think he was giving you signs that his time had come.

George too was very lucky. He had a long happy life with a mommy who was totally dedicated to him for 17 years--not all cats get that much pleasure in their lives. though all cats should!

Thank you for sharing your story, and please keep reading and posting. We are all here for you--

Big hugs from Margi, Spiritwolf, and Leopold the Terrible

Kurt

I'm glad that you are coming to that place where you can begin to let go of the guilt. Around three weeks after Nikita died (that terrible third week) I was convinced that her illness was not terminal but that I had made bad decisions which lead to her death. I now have pretty much convinced myself that she did have intestinal lymphoma and that no choices I made would have mattered. I will never know absolutly but now I can look back at her condition and realize that she just kept getting worse and worse; the relapses kept coming more frequently and more severely each time. But this I do know, my love for her and that my decisions where driven by that love and devotion. By reading your post I am sure of your love and devotion to Flo and I am glad that you are beginning to find at least some peace.

At this point I don't think that I will ever be completely over the loss of Nik, and I don't believe that's a bad thing. It seems that out of all the pets that pass through our lives at a certain time for whatever reason we are joined with a once in a livetime pet. That doesn't mean we can't love another but no other will ever be the same as that one. Nikita was the one for me as Flo was for you. They came into our lives and gave us years of love and devotion. I feel that we need to move beyond the pain and guilt and honor the wonderful years we had with them by cherising the memories and finding peace in their inevitable passing. I'm not fully at that point yet but I too am begining to let go of the guilt and that is at least a step.

Keep strong Kurt. I know you miss Flo as I miss Nik.

John