It seems odd to be writing this more than a month after Pippin died. I thought I was okay. Well, I'm okay, but I need to talk about it. It still hurts, and I still have moments of near-blinding grief. They're fewer than they were, but - well. I need some support.

Pippin was my seven year-old tuxedo cat. My husband and I brought him into our family when he was just eight weeks old. The first thing he did to DH was bite him (and that's about how their relationship went, LOL! Not a mean bite, but Pippin liked to chomp my husband. It was how he showed his love). My first cat Cleo had died that summer, suddenly from cardiomyopathy and heart failure. We lost her over the course of an evening. Of course she had been sick for much longer, but with her being our first cat and only being 6, we didn't realize how sick she was, and how stoic she was being. We lost Cleo the week we moved into our first house, in a new city. The vet was an all-new vet, and over the years, we've become close to them - they only saw Cleo the once, before referring us to Tufts, which is where she died. Our vet's office manager mentioned on the phone, the day after Cleo died, that when we were ready for a new family member, to let her know and she'd help us find one. And then she mentioned she was fostering an adorable grey kitten - and she told me his story. A state trooper had pulled someone over on a local 4-lane highway, and when he got out of his car, he and the speeder saw the kitten dart up under the speeder's wheel well! So the cop and the speeder both got out and rescued the kitten, who then dove into the cop's car and hid under the seat. He couldn't get the kitten out, so he came to our vet and basically said: Help! Ha. So, this little kitten was named Robert after the cop that found him, and our vet's office manager was fostering him. As it turned out, we brought him home the next week, renaming him Horatio Robert. About a month after bringing Horatio home, DH and I felt he needed a sibling, because boy, was he tiring us out! We mentioned that we were looking for another kitten to our vet's office manager, and in a week or so, she called us. A rather troubled teen in a troubled family had found a kitten. The family was about to have their dog euthanized because they were "tired of it." The family had a history of not taking great care of their animals, and so our vet talked them into surrendering the dog and kitten instead of euthanizing the dog and doing who knows what with the kitten. I believe the dog found a new happy home shortly thereafter.

And so Pippin came to live with us at the age of eight weeks. We had a few scares at the very beginning, with him vomiting and having diarrhea, and getting terribly dehydrated, but we brought him to the vet quickly and they nursed him back to healthy. We lost his brother Horatio at the age of two, over the course of a weekend, to FIP. It was awful. He, too, died at Tufts. We were heart-broken, but carried on. Fast-forward to this past October, when DH and I went to my younger brother's wedding - we were away for the weekend, so we left out dry food for them. Pippin was quite overweight (he loved his noms!), so we'd been trying to get him to lose weight for over a year, with less success than we would have liked, and thus, we didn't give him dry food. We're pretty sure, given the amount we left and the amount that was gone when we got home, that Pippin must have gorged himself. The other three cats probably ate some of it, but... well, Pippin loved his noms, as I said. :-/ A few weeks later, at the end of October, we had a terrible snowstorm that knocked our power out. We noticed Pippin acting off. Not eating as much, acting a little lethargic, not moving around as much. Finally, on Halloween, we took him to the emergency vet - ours didn't have power! After a workup, we found he had developed diabetes and pancreatitis! Oh no! But I'm a nurse. I had perfect faith that I could manage this. He stayed in the ICU for a weekend while they got his sugars under control and gave him fluids.

Pippin was a trooper about blood sugars and insulin injections. He grumbled a little about the pawsticks, but he quickly returned to being his old self, running and playing and being generally happy. Two weeks later, he was sick again. Back in the ICU with a flare-up of his pancreatitis. A month after that... we were still having trouble regulating his blood sugars, increasing his insulin... and we found he had a bump in his kidney numbers. Pippin was in mild renal failure. Say what?! A seven year old cat with little prior history in renal failure? So we saw the internal medicine specialist, who did an ultrasound and thought he had pyelonephritis, a bad kidney infection. We put him on antibiotics and fluids again, and he appeared to bounce back again. We worked closely with the IM vet to try to get his sugars under control. Poor Pippin was still being such a trooper! Still happy, still eating, still playing and running around like a kitten. We had Pippin home for Christmas, and had a wonderful Christmas together - my DH, Pippin, the other three cats and me. I had to leave to go to my other brother's wedding, while my husband stayed home and took care of Pippin. At this point, our lives revolved around him and trying to keep him healthy and get him better. I thought Pippin was doing wonderfully.

And then after the New Year, another bump in his kidney numbers, so we took him to our IM vet, who did an ultrasound to find his kidneys were big again. So now it's time to do a biopsy to see if he has lymphoma - we'd already gone through the agony of a needle aspirate to check for it, and the waiting and waiting to find out. So again, we put poor Pippin through another procedure, and he does okay. In the meanwhile, we've started SubQ fluids daily. But that Friday, he starts vomiting. Back to the IM vet & a few days in the ICU with pancreatitis flaring. My poor baby! Every time he was in the ICU, I visited him before and after work. I work 3-11, so I'd go and sit with him in an exam room and play with him from 1-2:30, then spend a couple hours with him after work at 11. I did that this time, too. And so Pippin came home after a day in the ICU this time. Great, we think! They send us home with some injectable anti-nausea meds, just in case, and more SubQ fluids. Our ENTIRE existence is now revolving around our baby Pippin. He is our life, trying to get him better. And then, on Monday January 23, DH and I went to Petco to pick some things up, and come back to find Pippin has used the litterbox. Now, off and on throughout all this, Pippin has had chronic diarrhea, either from the antbiotics or pancreatitis, or a combination. We look, and holy cow! It's the first normal BM we've seen from Pippin in months, hurray! But then I look more closely and see he's vomited. So we give the anti-nausea med, which we'd had to give a couple times since we last had him in. It doesn't help. He still is acting nauseated. He goes and hides in his litterbox, just sits there. That terrified me, because he never does that.

So after multiple calls to the emergency vet, we take him at 1 AM. They look him over, say he looks okay, and by then he didn't look so nauseated. I asked them to do labs on him, so we'd be able to talk to the IM vet in the morning about it. They do, and the ER vet comes out with a very sad look on his face. His creatinine, which had never been above 3.5, was 9. It had been 2.6 eleven days before that. At this point, I know we're going to lose him. But Pippin's looking at me with those big yellow eyes, and he tells me with that look that he still wants to fight. (At least, I really hope that's what he was telling me.) So we admit him, start fluids and talk to our IM vet in the morning - not that my husband and I slept at all after we got home. She suggests bringing him to Tufts, because she really isn't sure what's going on. I was terrified. Even more terrified than I had been. We lost Cleo and Horatio there. This can't be happening, I thought to myself. But we took him to Tufts.

A wonderful team followed Pippin while he was there. He stayed from Tuesday AM until Friday when we let him go. We tried continuous dialysis, after a long talk with the attending specialist, and a long hard look at Pippin to see if he was ready to give up. He looked like he didn't feel well, but he still held his head up. He still purred and rubbed our hands. We talked with our IM vet, who knew Pippin and us so very well by now. She said that she wouldn't say this about most cats/in most cases, but if Pippin were her cat, she'd try it. So we decided to try it.

It was a roller coaster. He was in a little heart failure, so they put him on a lasix IV and another med to help his heart and kidneys work better. And that didn't work so they did put him on dialysis. And then he started making some urine. And then he stopped. And then he started again. And then there was blood in his bladder, since they did another renal biopsy to try to figure out what the heck was going on, and he was on a blood thinner on dialysis. And then his blood counts dropped, so he got multiple transfusions. And all this time, I'm looking at Pippin, still trying to decide if he wanted to give up. Wednesday night, I visited him and he ate from my hand. What a blessing that was. What a precious, precious memory, now. He kissed my cheek with his little sandpaper kisses. So I knew he stilled loved me, and that he knew we were just trying to make him better. And we thought he was making urine, so the dialysis was helping his kidneys. The next day, he was worse. I called out sick from work to go be with him, and I sat with him from 11 AM until 11 PM. They let me sit with him in dialysis, and I am so very grateful to have had that time. Friday morning, they call and let me know he's stopped making urine again. The attending began trying to seriously pursue transplant as an option, since Pippin was so young and we were willing to try it. DH and I rushed to Tufts to be with him, and we discussed the options. Euthanasia was an option, but so was trying him off dialysis, seeing if his kidneys started doing some work on their own, since his numbers were back to normal.

Again, we talked to our IM vet, who advised us to ask ourselves if we'd be able to live with not giving him that 24 hours off dialysis trying. So that was the plan - try him off dialysis. I looked at the heart monitor, though, and since I'm an ICU nurse, I recognize that he's in ventricular tachycardia, which I point out. So my husband and I, terrified, step back far enough to let them get to him. The doctors ask how much we want them to do. I look to my husband, because he wasn't in the same place I was - he wanted them to do everything. Suddenly, his heart rate drops, and Pippin cries out. The doctor gives three chest compressions, and his heart goes back into a normal rhythm for a kitty. DH and I call out, "Pippin, we love you. We're here, and we love you." They bring in the ultrasound to look at his heart, and draw blood from the dialysis line and find his potassium is sky-high on dialysis - a very bad sign, and I don't need anyone to tell me how bad, at that point. I know. I hate being a nurse and knowing. I don't always want to know. They give him a fluid bolus, and we go back to sit with him, petting him and telling him how much we love him. And then the tech takes his blood pressure, which is 40. Incompatible with life, I know in my heart. I tell my husband, "Honey. Pippin's body is telling us he's done fighting. We have to let him go." We have a talk with our IM vet, who is as kind and wonderful as always, and who agrees that Pippin is done fighting.

We took Pippin off dialysis, and held him. On top of all this, I called out sick to work for the weekend. I'm the sort of person who NEVER calls out, even on my deathbed, but I knew I couldn't take care of patients safely if we were losing Pippin. My boss calls me and insists on speaking to me. He asks how the kitty is. I tell him - a fellow nurse - that we took him off dialysis, and we're about to let him die. He proceeds to tell me that he and I need to have a meeting to talk about my calling out and future expectations. So at the moment I should have been most focused on my family, he's distracting me with that. I was so angry. But I refocused on what was important - Pippin and my DH. We settled Pippin in my arms, wrapped in a blanket, and we held him and talked to him. We told him how special he was, and how loved he was, and we would never ever forget him. We told him how much we were going to miss him, and petted him. We called my mother, who told Pippin she loved him and goodbye over the phone, and she told him she'd see him again someday. I think we held him for about an hour and a half. He was comfortable; he'd been on a narcotic IV, so that was still in his system. He was calm, restful. And then, we let them give the injection to help him die. DH and I stayed for at least another hour with him. It was so hard to let him go - to give him to tech and doctors. He fought so hard to stay with us. I loved him so much. I would have done anything for him. And then, we went home... January 27th. My baby was dead. My soulmate was gone.

No Pippin. Even with three cats, the house is quiet. Pippin was the one who was always hanging out at our feet. Letting us know when it was meal time. Letting us know when it was playtime. He was the one that slept on my hip. He was my baby. And he was gone. I explained what had happened to the other cats, and that Pippin wasn't coming home this time. I don't know how much they understood, but I do know that his sister Willow wouldn't look at me for a couple hours, after I explained things to her. For days, the other cats kept looking for him. He was the one that herded them into the kitchen for meals. Our Karma kept looking for him at mealtime. Strider was dejected. They've started to heal now, and we have a new family member, Earl Grey. It's beyond the scope of this post, but I'm fairly certain Pippin led us to him. And Earl is fitting in well - yet of course, he doesn't replace Pippin. I think Pippin would have liked him, though.

Most of the time, I'm okay. I go on with life. I hate being at work now, after the way my boss treated me while I was losing a family member. My mom says this is a gift from Pippin - a motivation to find a new job that's closer to home, where I'm happier. She's probably right. She usually is. (At 36, yes, I can finally admit my mother's right.) The other cats - thank goodness for them. Loving them helps. Being around DH helps. Distracting myself with decorating and craft projects helps... but none of it brings him back.

I know how this goes. I've lost pets before. I lost my dad when he was 49. I know it hurts like crazy, and that some days are good days, and some days are bad days. But today's not a good day. I haven't told the full story all at once yet, like I did here. Thank you for letting me share it.

Kel

Oh Pippin's mom

My heart is breaking for you. What a hellish experience - the hundreds of things you guys did to save Mr Pippin's life! Most PEOPLE'S relatives wouldn't have done that much. And it must have been thousands of times more horrible for you - a nurse - knowing what each and every lab and procedure meant.

It reminds me of the year 1994-5 when my (human) sister had a pancreas transplant at the U of MD. It went VERY bad, they had to take the new organ, and she developedd EO-PTLD - one of the first cases and BOY did they not know what to do!! Even tho I'm a lay person, my mom was a nurse and I learned almost everything there is to know about lab chemistries!! My sister lived - it was a TRUE miracle - alk phos over 3800 and bili 48+. As you say, incompatible with life!

I lost my Gretta, the first dog I'd ever had as an adult, last April 10. She is the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived. She, too, had the wonderful fortune of having been treated at a good vet school (like Pippin at Tufts) - at the U of MN. Like you and Pippin-kitty, Gretta died in my arms, hearing over and over that I loved her )still do) more than anything else on earth. Everyone (vet, tech, friend) was sobbing. I'll never forget her last deep sigh before she went over to the Perfect World from which she came and where we WILL be reunited some day never to be parted again.

I know your mom is right when she says that Pippin sent you the new kitty - the Earl Grey. Gretta sent me a dog, too - Rufus, a half black lab, half newfie.

All of us cradle your heart in our hands (or paws) and reassure you that PIPPIN LIVES and that, just as before, she loves you and watches over you. It's a little late right now but in the morning I'll write and tell you how I know that Pippin isn't an ordinary animal - she's truly your soul-mate, what American Indians called "white buffalos".

Peace and blessings to you tonight.

Gretta's mom

Hello Kel, welcome to this forum. I am very sorry for your loss. I too had a sweet little Tuxedo boy. He was named Danny and went to the angels last December. It must have been so stressful for you to go through the ups and downs in Pippin's health. Grief comes over us in waves. At first, they hit us really hard, but as time goes by the frequency and intensity of the waves of grief diminish. The first few months are very hard. It has been two months for me since my Danny boy died, and I'm still struggling. And now it looks like I might lose my little Tina who has been with me for over 14 years. So, it's a double whammy for me. I know how you feel about Pippin having been so special and more close to you than the other cats. I always had a special bond with Danny as well. There is just something about the Tuxedo boys.

I am glad that you added Earl Grey to your family. My, what a distinguished name! Kel, the grief journey is one that is imposed upon us. Nobody enters the house of grief voluntary, and we'd rather soon leave, but in order to get through it we need to embrace the grief and let it take us to a new place. It is hard to adjust to the new normal, and I still look at Danny's favorite napping places and picture him there, napping so contentedly. Please know that we are here for you in this forum.

Hugs,
DannysMom

I am so sorry for your loss.

It's so good to hear of another person that has so much love to give to so many kitties. Pippin loved you so much and wil be so grateful for all the love and help you gave him. I am so sorry to hear as well how your boss treated you. He was totally out of order but unfortunately not all people out there understand the pain animal lovers go through when we lose a loved one. You have come to the Ruhr place as there are so many wonderful understanding people on here.

My thoughts are with you.

xxForeverxx

Gretta's mom,

Thank you so much for your kind words and thoughts. It was so, so hard to step back and just be a family member, not the nurse. And it was hard, because some of my coworkers asked me why I was torturing my cat - my boss, in particular. Naturally, I worried that I was, but I always stepped back and asked myself how uncomfortable things were for Pippin, and if he seemed to be tired of fighting, and until the very last day, he was still a fighter. The last day, I knew he was done. And so I told my boss: He is my cat. I know him, and I know he's not done fighting. You know your child the best, right? Well, I know my Pippin the best. And he's only SEVEN. ... Sigh. It was hard, feeling like I had to defend myself for going above and beyond. I always asked the vets, even the specialists at Tufts: is this too much? And when it was, they said so. We could have done more. We could have put him on blood pressure support medications and antiarrhythmics for his heart... but we didn't. We let him go when it was time.

Then there were the people who said: I wouldn't spend that much on a CAT. We were able to do it, and I know some people can't - and that breaks my heart for them. It was just so hard to hear people judging me for being willing to. And yes, my husband and I would have gone into debt, if it would have saved him. I can't put a price on a life, especially not that of my baby. I'm having trouble working through the reactions of other people, even a month+ later. It still hurts. And it's still none of their business, but you know how people are...

I'd like to think that Pippin and I will meet again someday. There's a small - maybe a little crazy - part of me that wonders if Earl Grey is Horatio come back to us. The superficial resemblance is uncanny. That's part of what got our attention in the first place! We went to Petsmart, and saw a cat who looked like Pippin when he was all curled up, and that brought us over to look at their shelter kitties (that cat, Divo, didn't look much like Pippin when he lifted his head). And then we saw Earl Grey, big, grey fluffy kitty, who looked a lot like Horatio. He was snuggly and loving from the start, even just meeting him for a short while. The next day, we looked for him on the shelter's website, but he was gone, and Petsmart said he had an adoption pending, so DH and I figured it wasn't meant to be. I, on a whim, decided to check their website and Earl Grey was back- it turns out not one, but two adoptions had fallen through! So we brought him home the next Sunday, a little over two weeks after Pippin left us. When Earl stepped out of his room for the first time, he did not act like a typical shy, exploring cat. No slinking around - he held his head up and checked the whole place out, almost like he'd been there before. When he met our orange cat, Karma - the only cat left with us who'd known Horatio, and the big protective male that we expected would freak out the most about a new arrival - he and Karma touched noses like they were old friends!! And Earl does the silent meow thing... he opens his mouth to meow, and sometimes no sound comes out. Horatio's the only cat I've ever seen do that, until now. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but maybe this means we'll see Pippin again someday, too. I can hope, right?

Hi, Danny's Mom, and thank you so much for your reply. Tuxedos certainly are special, aren't they? (Though, I've found all the kitties I've had are pretty darn special - but Pippin and I were so tightly bonded.) Everyone at the emergency vet/ICU adored him. They'd do rounds carrying him around with his paws draped over their shoulders when he was there! It sounded like they all took turns doing that. And he was so in love with one of the vets there, Dr. S. My big, handsome flirt. He also used to give them headbutts. The vets at Tufts fell in love with him, too; he kept chatting to them while he was on dialysis, for the first couple days. He was all heart. I miss him so. I'm finally adjusting to not having my life revolve around caring for him, though. Intellectually, I know this is how things go when you've been the caregiver for someone with a chronic illness, but I've never experienced it before.

Earl has been a wonderful addition to our home. We brought him home two weeks after Pippin left us, which we worried was too soon, but I couldn't NOT give a sweet, wonderful kitty a home because of time. It's ended up being very good for the three other kitties. Little Strider was Pippin's playmate, and now Earl (who is only two) and Strider chase each other all over the house. He and Karma are bonding, too. Willow, our little calico girl, still isn't quite sure. Earl has no concept of anyone not being his friend, so he doesn't always get it when Willow tells him to back off. She's warming up to him, slowly but surely. She was Pippin's girl, though, from the moment she came to us as a tiny kitten, and Pippin was a big guy, by then. He used to sleep with her, groom her... They didn't do it much when she grew up, but I think she stayed his girl. So, I think Miss Willow is still adjusting to her new normal; we just keep giving her all the love in the world.

I'm so sorry you lost your Danny, and that your Tina isn't well. I hope she stays with you for a bit longer.

Thank you, xxForeverxx.

The behavior of my boss made it far more challenging to deal with Pippin's loss; it would have been nearly impossible anyway. I'm trying to remind myself that anger is a part of grief, and I'm trying not to look for a scapegoat for a situation that no one is really to blame for. It isn't his fault Pippin was sick. (I have, however, revised my opinion of this boss - I used to think he was great, but it's funny how folks show their true colors...)

It's nice to come to a safe place where people Get It. Thank you.

<3

Hi, Kel, please permit me to add my sincerest sympathies in the physical loss of your beloved Pippin. Losing a companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we are blessed with the privilege of their company. Euthanasia is the last gift of love we can give to our companions on this side of eternity - - at great sacrifice to ourselves - - so that they can be restored to their former youthfulness in the company of the angels.

I am so sorry that your supervisor was so horrible to you. I know what it is to work in a place with a person / people that have no clue about the grief of losing a beloved companion. Although clinical professionals now recognize that the grief journey for the physical loss of a beloved companion is identical to the physical loss of a human family member or friend, our society in general, and sometimes some of the people who are closest to us geographically, does not. I have learned that when I need to be off work because my furkids need me, I simply say there is a family emergency and do not offer any specifics. I hope you are able to continue working in your current job without too much stress.

Even when there are precious companions in the home, there is no denying that the physical absence is noticed of the one little life that is no longer present. It feels like even the structure of the house itself is grieving. This grief journey is one of adjustment to the physical absence of your beloved Pippin, and this can only be traveled one day at a time, sometimes one moment at a time, in your own way and in your own time.

Please let me add my sincerest congratulations to you in your precious new fur family member Earl Grey (perhaps named after the tea?). I wish for you and your precious Earl Grey a long, happy, healthy earthly journey together.

Thank you so much for sharing your beloved Pippiin with us, Kel. I know right now there are no adequate words in any language that can soothe the pain of loss that is in your heart, but I assure you that one day the deep sorrow that is in your heart will ease. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Kel, I am sorry that you had to deal with a boss who did not understand and co-workers who questioned you spending so much money on your little Pippin. They have no right to tell you what to do or to judge you for spending money on helping Pippin. These furry little creatures are like our children, and if it would have helped my Danny boy I too would have spent more money on him. God bless you for having a compassionate and caring heart. When we love someone we naturally want to do all that we can to help. I am sure your little Pippin appreciated everything that you did for him. Grieving the loss of a beloved pet is often called disenfranchised grief, because it is not socially sanctioned to grieve over the loss of a furry companion. And that adds to the pain that we already feel.

Moon_beam,

Thank you so much for your sweet words. It is comforting to know that there are people who understand the depth of the loss I'm feeling (although I wish no one had to feel this pain). I know that this hurts as much as it does because Pippin and I loved each other so deeply - but what a bitter pill that is!

Earl Grey was already named when we got him, but I do believe he was named after the tea. He's often underfoot in the best possible ways.

It's good to be able to share Pippin with people who understand. I feel like talking about him honors his memory.

Thank you, Danny's Mom. Those things have certainly made it more difficult to work through my grief. I have to stop and remind myself that in truth, I should feel sorry for the people who don't understand. It makes me sad that they've never felt the depth of love and that special bond that I had with Pippin (and the other cats I've lost).

Today, I went out onto our sunroom. Earl Grey was curled up on a chair, enjoying the late winter afternoon sunlight, and what should I find next to him but one of Pippin's whiskers. It's like he put it there for me to find when I needed him the most.

Pippin's Mom - I'm so sorry for the loss of your kitty. It sounds like you and dh are just super awesome pet parents and your Pippin and your other kitties are SO lucky to have you !

You really did everything that you could for Pippin. I know how frustrating the whole kidney thing can be (I lost my cat Wicket 6 months ago to Kidney Disease, he was just shy of 7 & my 18 year old kitty is dealing with off the charts bun & creatine as we speak ).

I'm sorry that on top of it all you are dealing with insensitive and rude people. Even if you don't understand what someone else is dealing with - why in the world would someone pick that moment to say something like that?! You made the right choice for both your family AND your patients! I'd like to have a word or two with your supervisor!

I hope that your dh and your other kitties can help you get through this very difficult time.

Petunia, thank you so much for your kindness and understanding. The kidney thing is horribly frustrating. We still don't know why his kidneys failed so quickly, and I don't think we're ever going to have those answers. I was hoping we'd get some closure, but I have to accept that's just not meant to be. I'm sorry to hear you have experienced losing one so young from it, and that your 18 year-old is going through that. I'll think happy thoughts that her (his?) values improve - or that kitty remains happy and eating, at least.

Thanks for the understanding and sympathy re: work. It's made things a lot harder than they needed to be, you know?

DH and kitties are helping. I think Pippin himself is helping, too.

I know this might sound crazy, but I think Pippin is still poking his little paw into my life from the spirit world. I mentioned above that yesterday, there was a Pippin-whisker on a chair next to Earl Grey. I mentioned to my husband that I had looked at that chair before, and I knew I hadn't seen it there. In his typical, non-committal (read: trying not to tell me I'm crazy) way, he said, "Maybe." Me: I *know* it wasn't there.

And then, I rearranged our bedroom later in the afternoon. Behind my husband's dresser, I found Pippin's favorite toy. It was a puffball he carried around in his mouth all the time. When he wanted to play in the middle of the night, he'd stand outside our bedroom door and meow... with it in his mouth. It was the funniest, most plaintive sound. So I showed DH, and said, "I have no idea how that got back there. I swear, it's like Pippin's putting things where we can find them so we know he's here when we need him the most." Again, the husband says: "Maybe."

Finally, we go to bed, and I'm still awake, having trouble falling asleep, and I thought, for just a second, I heard Pippin's "puffball-in-mouth-play-with-me" meow. I tell myself that it's my imagination. I start to drift toward sleep, and I realize my husband got up out of bed, then laid back down and was tossing and turning. I ask him if he's okay. He said, yes, he'd just heard one of the cats meowing really loudly, but when he went to check on them, they were all asleep. I asked which one it sounded like, where each of them were, and so on - he said it sounded like Miss Willow, but she was sound asleep with the rest of them. After thinking about it for a moment, I asked him if it sounded like the meow Pippin made when he was holding his puffball. My husband gets very quiet and says, "Yeeees. Why?" And then I told him what I heard, earlier. Being me, I couldn't help but say, "Now, are you going to stop looking at me like I'm crazy when I say that I swear Pippin's around once in a while?" Again that pause. "Yeeees."

Oh, Pippin. Always backing your mom up, even if she IS crazy.

Hi, Kel, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. Please let me reassure you that you are NOT losing your mind. It is very normal for us to hear / see our beloved companions even though they are not physically with us. I am so glad your beloved Pippin is letting you know he is still near - - for he truly is. His sweet Living Spirit is no longer confined to the physical laws of time and space. So enjoy your beloved Pippin's visits, Kel.

I hope today is treating you kindly, Kel. Thank you so much for sharing your beloved Pippin with us. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and that I look forward ot knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Moon_beam,

Thank you so much for the reassurance! My husband has also had a few experiences, where one cat has moved and then he thought he saw Pippin sitting right there, too - and it took him a few minutes to realize Pippin really wasn't there. He thinks his eyes were playing tricks on him, but I think Pippin WAS there! I feel much less crazy now and I look forward to Pippin's next appearance/gift.

Today has been treating me kindly so far, thankfully. Your kindness is appreciated.
Kel

Last night, I started writing letters to Pippin on Livejournal. I'm fine when I'm occupied - working, at home in the middle of a project, and so on. But my drive to and from work is an hour long. Those are lonely hours, and I think sometimes that's when I miss him most. Before he died, I was usually driving home to give him "second dinner" and insulin.

Hi, Kel, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. Keeping a journal is very helpful, and I'm glad you are finding it comforting. Long drives can be difficult when going through deep grief. I remember the gut-wrenching sobbing drives both to and from work, doing errands, etc.. Even though keeping busy and distracted does help it is also important that you allow yourself the time to grieve the physical absence of your beloved Pippin. It's not a pleasant part of this grief journey to feel the pain and loneliness and emptiness, but I assure you, Kel, that it s a part of this journey that will eventually help make the sorrow in your heart less painful. I truly wish there were an easier way to do it, and if there were I would most certainly share it with you.

Thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing, Kel. I hope today is treating you kindly, and that you, your husband, and your precious fur tribe will have a very peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Pippin's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you're in my thoughts and prayers, and that I look forward to knowing how things are going.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Hello Kel! I am glad that you started writing letters to your sweet Pippin. I wrote about Danny in a special pet remembrance journal, and I pasted some photos and one of his super-long whiskers in the journal. It helped to put my feelings into words, and I am sure that is helping you as well. We need to let our grief out instead of holding it in. On the grief journey the waves of grief sweep over us, and it is best to embrace them instead of fighting them. It is like trying to stand against a big wave on the beach; it takes more energy to fight the wave. On the long drives to and from work it might help you to vocalize your feelings and to just talk to Pippin.
It is so hard to adjust to life without our precious little friends, and it will take a while to really find the new normal. We are here for you in this forum.

Hi Kel

Starting a journal sounds like a wonderful thing to be doing. Your baby Pippin is probably smiling now at the thought of you doing that. I think it is the best tribute we can give to our little ones and I am currently in the process of writing a journal too.

It is harder when our minds are not occupied. And I still struggle but I do find myself thinking well maybe this will give me a boost to do more stuff with my days instead of moping around feeling sorry for myself as I know Chewy would have wanted that for me.

I hope you are ok today.

xxForeverxx

Hello, Moon_beam - hope you're well.

I definitely like keeping a journal. Sometimes I find myself able to articulate what I'm feeling much better in text than I can out loud. I do talk to Pippin on those long drives, usually through tears, but I know that's a part of this process. After all, it wouldn't hurt nearly so much if he weren't so special to me; my tears, though painful, honor his memory. Yesterday was 6 weeks since Pippin died, and that was very hard, though I found the days leading up to it were hardest.

It's been a rough few days at work, thanks to politics and challenging patients. Today, though, was a day off, and I was able to spend it with the husband and the fur tribe. I saw Miss Willow and Earl Grey playing together for the first time today! Tomorrow's our one month Earl-i-versary, so that's very nice to see. Today was a good day.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers, Moon_beam. They mean a lot to me.

I love the idea of a pet remembrance journal. How lovely to keep those things close. We have a lot of things of Pippin's that we can't bear to throw away, but having them out and visible is too painful a reminder of his illness - we have his IV fluids, his medications, his glucometer... the sheet that was on our bed the last nights he was at home, and when he slept with me. We can't bring ourselves to put it in the wash, so it's folded neatly in my closet. I was thinking of finding a storage trunk - something pretty - and placing Pippin's things in there. That way we're reminded of him, but not faced with the constant, concrete reminders of how hard we fought to keep him alive. I would like to remember the good times with him: the times he played with us, and the times he enjoyed his meals so very much... the times he and his brother had cat-battles... the times he slept on my hip.

Thank you, Danny's Mom. I hope this has been shaping up to be a good weekend for you, and that you continue to be surrounded by Danny's love.

xxForeverxx,

Thank you for the kind thoughts. Are you finding that writing your journal is helping you? I think I like to keep myself busy for the same reason you mentioned. I certainly accept my grief and sadness when it comes over me, but sometimes I find myself ruminating over the "what ifs" and "whys." I think those are the times when I find it most helpful to make myself do something constructive. Consequently, I think I've gotten more home improvement done in the past 6 weeks than I have in the past 6 years!

We just had a very sad moment. Our little guy, Strider, just found Pippin's carrier in the basement. We only just were able to bring it in from the trunk of my SUV two weeks ago, and it still has the comfy pad in it, and Pippin's favorite toy that we brought with him to comfort him. It was the carrier we took him to the emergency hospital in for the last time. Strider sniffed it, pawed at it, then ran upstairs and started looking around for Pippin. How do you explain that to a cat? Poor guy. We just gave him lots of love, and told him we understood, and we knew he was sad. My poor little guy.

Thank you, again, xxForeverxx.

Hi, Kel, thank you so mcuh for sharing with us how you're doing. This grief journey, particularly during the first year, is filled with continual "angel-versaries": the first day, the first week, the first month, the first holiday, the first vacation - - every day holds its own form of reminder that "this time last week, last month, last year" and my beloved Pippin was here to share this / that or did this / that, and on it goes. But you are so right when you say: "my tears, though painful, honor his memory." I promise you, Kel, there will come a time when you will be able to remember your beloved Pippin and smile - - which will honor him, too - - and which is what he wants for you.

I'm glad you are findng keeping a journal helpful. I know your beloved Pippin is reading every word you write, and you may even find him helping you by softly saying: "hey, mom, remember this?" and you will find yourself writing a memory that you had not previously thought about.

I'm so glad Miss Willow and Sir Earl Grey are becoming friends. I know how seeing them play together brought joy to your heart.

I hope today is treating you kindly, Kel, and that you, your husband, and furkids will have a very peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Pippin's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, kel, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Hello Kel, greetings to you and yours from my little household. I know exactly what you mean about the reminders being too painful and the need to keeping them hidden. Every time I went in my spare room and looked at Danny's carrier I started getting panicky. It was disassembled and still had a tag with his name on the carrier door. One day I just went and put it in the closet. I can't bear to reassemble it and I don't think I will transport another cat in it. It is just way too painful for me. The last time I was at the vet with Tina they wanted to put me in room 2 ("the" room) and I started panicking and asked them if they could put me in another room. They said it was no problem and they would put that in my chart. I remembered how Danny kept looking at the print that hung on the wall in that room, Tuxedo cats sitting down for dinner.

Kel, for you it was a much longer battle than for me, and that has got to be so hard on you, knowing that you did all you could. I too struggled a lot with the "whys" and "what ifs". For the first few weeks I was just eaten up by guilt, but that too is normal and part of the grief journey. Accepting something that you can't change is so hard. I am glad that Willow and Earl Grey are playing together.

I had been doing okay today - okay enough that I started to make a book of pictures of Pippin. But looking through them, seeing how happy and wonderful he was... I can't stop crying. I'm so glad he had a good life - a life where he was happy and loved. And I'd so rather I have this pain, than he have the pain of being sick and hurting, but I miss him so. My heart just aches to have my little guy back with me.

Oh, Pippin, how I miss you.

Hi, kel, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. This grief journey is a very difficult adjustment to not having our beloved companions' precious physical presence with us. During the deep grief our hearts literally feel like they are breaking from the seering pain and the loneliness and the emptiness. It wouldn't matter if our earthly journey with our companions was as long as ours - - for we would always want just one more minute, one more hour, one more day - - one more lifetime. The good news for us to hold onto is that we will be reunited with our companons in eternal joy at our appropriate time. But for now we are blessed with their sweet Living Spirit in our hearts and our memories - - for they are always a heartbeat close to us.

Like you I worked on memorial scrapbooks for each of my companions. From my experience, if I may make a suggestion - - which you probably are already doing - - just work on it when and as you feel up to it. And I hope as you continue to work on your scrapbook that you will feel your beloved Pippin's sweet Living Spirit beside you sharing each of the memories you have made - - and continue to make - - during your earthly journey.

Kel, I hope you will have a very peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Pippin's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing and to sharing your treasured memories of your beloved Pippin.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Moon_beam, thank you so much for your reply.

Tomorrow is a difficult day. It marks 8 weeks since Pippin died. I still miss him oh so very much. I miss his little 'mrrt' of greeting. I miss his barging into my bathroom whenever I was in there (fresh boy!). I miss him winding around my ankles while I was getting his dinner ready. I miss him sleeping on my hip. I miss watching him run after treats. I miss his life, his joy and his exuberance. I miss his utter devotion to me, and mine to him. I miss carrying him in my arms, his paws draped over my shoulder. I miss his white tummy and his tuxedo spats. I miss looking into his eyes and knowing he understood me. I even miss worrying about whether or not he was going to get better, because then at least he was still with me. I miss the trust he had in me, letting me check his blood sugar and hold him in my arms like a baby while I did. I miss hearing him meow with a puffball in his mouth outside my bedroom door, only to spit it out and look up at me with those huge, golden eyes and beg for play in the middle of the night. I wish I had indulged him more. I miss the sound of his purr. I miss watching him lift his chin to have it scratched. I miss scratching his chin.

Oh my little Pippin, I miss you so. I hope you are happy, wherever you are now. I hope there is no pain. I hope there is a field of puffballs for you to play with, and a giant fountain for you to drink from. I hope that every meal is your favorite. I hope that remember me, and that you know I would have given anything to keep you with me. I hope that you aren't angry at me for trying so hard, for so long to keep you with me. I hope that I didn't just keep you around for selfish reasons. I know you fought so hard to stay with me. I know you tried. You were so brave and strong, and I wish I had half of your courage, baby boy. I'll always love you.

We have been through the same thing overe the decades. The horrible choice at the end, our Stewardship dues, the 'Job" we agree to when we bring an animal friend home.

But Pippin did you one last favor. Over the many years we have had animal friends, we learned they are experts at reading people, and reveal many things, serving as lie detectors, or reactions of people towards animals in general can be very revealing.

Year ago, we had a "Ghost Cat", Molly, who was born feral. She hid when strangers came. She hated them.
At the time, a company wanted to buy a product line of mine. The Company President flew in, and came to the house to discuss it.
This was a big deal for me, and there was a lot of worry. "Can I trust this guy? Can I believe him? Will he screw me?, etc."
So we were talking, he was sitting on the couch, Molly walked up to him, gave him a sniff, and curled up purring in his lap.
OK, that was enough. We signed the deal. Over the years, it has been a fair and good relationship, to our mutual benefit.

When vendors visit or make deliveries, Ignatius and Zacchary interview them. Their judgements have never been wrong.
The way they interact with unknown humans tells us all we need to know. Perhaps people will think this is narrow minded...I do not care.
Anyone who has contempt for animals is so fundamentally flawed that I will not conduct business with them, if they gave me stuff for free.
I do not even want to know them.

If your boss cannot have compassion for the loss of a friend...Fire Him.

Hi, Kel, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing, and your beautiful love letter to your beloved Pippin. The angel-versaries are very hard particularly during the deep grief when all we desperately want is to hold them one more time, to look into their eyes one more time, and on and on and on. The truth of the matter is is that our earthly journey with our companions is never long enough - - for we will always want just one more minute, one more hour, one more day, - - one more lifetime with them.

This grief journey is both a physical and emotional adjustment to the physical absence of our companions. It helped me to hold something that belongs to my beloved companion when the physical ache to hold them became very unbearable during the deep grief. I slept with their collar under my pillow and held tightly onto a blanket or toy when the waves of deepest sorrow would overwhelm and consume me. No, it can never replace the blessing of holding their precious physical body in my arms - - but it served as a bridge to hold something that belongs to them in my arms that ached to hold them. Eventually as the deep grief eases so will the physical pain of separation. Some folks are afraid that when this happens that they are forgetting their beloved companion. Please let me try to reassure you, Kel, that it will be IMPOSSIBLE for you to ever forget your beloved Pippin, for he is forever a part of you. Not even the dimming of our minds with age can we ever forget our beloved companions.

I hope today is treating you kindly, Kel. Thank you so very much for sharing your and your beloved Pippin's 2 month angel-versary with us. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Kel, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Hello Kel, thanks for letting us know how you are doing. When I read your letter to Pippin tears started welling up in my eyes. Not to put down other cats, but the Tuxedos are VERY special. Just ask Jon730. Your Pippin sounds like such a sweet little boy. And I know what you mean about missing his white tummy. My Danny boy had a mostly white tummy, but it looked like he had his tuxedo 'jacket' buttoned in the middle. Danny had one tiny black spot on his left hind paw.
It is so hard when all the beautiful memories come flooding in and then we long for them and want them back. When I think long enough about Danny I can almost 'feel' his soft fur.

Your Pippin was a real special little boy. It is good to remember him, to tell his stories. I hope today is treating you kindly.

Hugs,
DannysMom

Jon,

Thank you so much for your comforting words and for sharing your story of your little interviewers! It was actually my first cat, Cleo, who saved me from marrying an abusive man, and who helped me confirm that my husband was The One. She hated first guy, and she just couldn't get enough of my DH. They really do read people, don't they?

As for my boss, well, other things have happened at work and he is no longer a manager. I kept my head down, and let things fall out as they would. I was comfortable with my actions and behavior, and I knew that I wasn't the one in the wrong. Pippin and the rest of my family - DH and the other kitties - were my priority, and I put them first. I would make the same choice, even if I lost my job from it. I think it is Pippin's gift to me, to see people for who they truly are, and not for who they pretend to be. Bless my little boy for that sacrifice that has shown me people's real selves.

Again, thank you, Jon. I hope, as moonbeam says, today is treating you well.

Moon_beam, thank you so much - as always - for your kind words and empathy. I actually have a stuffed version of Pippin that I sleep with every night. A couple years ago, my mother visited and we were shopping and saw this rotund, stuffed plush tuxedo cat, and we laughed and thought it looked just like Pippin. She went back, when I wasn't looking, and bought him for me. When Pippin was in the ICU (as he was so many times, my brave boy), I would sleep with the stuffed version of him and think of him. I sleep with him every night now, and even though I'm terrible about kicking covers onto the floor, losing pillows on the floor, no matter what I've managed to lose on the floor overnight, "Pippin" is still in my arms. It's not the same, but it does provide some comfort. And I'm tearing up and crying as I write this, oy.

I actually was able to laugh and smile, with my husband, last night about Pippin. I struggled during the three months he was ill about whether we were doing the right thing or if we were torturing him and should have just let him go. I sat down and sobbed, so many times, "I can't do this anymore." And now I feel terrible for saying that, and I hope Pippin didn't hear me and decide not to stay because of it. Logically, I know it wasn't his choice, but I still can't help but ask - did he leave because he thought I didn't want to take care of him? I only meant that I just wanted him not to be ill. I wanted him to be stable, and not in and out of the kitty ICU every 2-3 weeks. I wanted his blood sugars to stabilize so he could be happy and feel good. I didn't mind any of the care I had to give him: blood sugars, insulin injections, pills, subQ fluids, making sure I was home at midnight after work to give him his insulin, and making sure he ate and didn't vomit afterward, giving him his anti-nausea shots when he needed them... I didn't mind cleaning up the chronic diarrhea from the pancreatitis and then the antibiotics he was on, and I didn't mind when he had accidents because he couldn't quite get into the litterbox fast enough. I didn't mind any of it. I just wanted to stop worrying that he was going to die. And then he did. I feel so, so, so guilty.

But yesterday, I remembered that those three months, even if he was in and out of the ICU, he was a happy cat. He started playing again, in between all the treatments. He ran around with his tail up, all perky. He mrrted at us and begged for play - he even did jumpy play, which he hadn't done in a while before we realized he had diabetes. He got to eat all his favorite wet foods, especially near the end when we just wanted to make sure he was eating - and eat he did! He was happy, playing, eating and loving us the very morning of the day we took him to the emergency vet for the last time, before his stay at Tufts. I had gotten the day off work because we didn't have enough patients and I wasn't needed, and I spent the afternoon playing with him. I guess, if I had to lose him, I couldn't ask for more. This is what my husband and I were talking about - how happy he was for those three months, and how he acted like he did when he was healthy. Not only that, but Pippin adored the staff at the animal hospital he went to, and they were all head over heels in love with him. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but they'd do their morning and evening rounds in the ICU with Pippin in their arms, paws over their shoulders. One doctor, Dr. Silk, was his girlfriend. I'm pretty sure he had a crush on her, and she adored him. And Liz, the nurse who took care of him with the internal medicine vet we worked that, was in tears when we took him from there to Tufts and told him she loved him, and emailed me a couple times during his few days on dialysis to tell me she was praying for him. I made sure that in his last moments in his arms, I told Pippin that Liz loved him too. Even at Tufts, they adored him. And I know they're supposed to say that, but we got three whole cards with hand-written notes from the residents and dialysis techs and vet students who were taking care of him. You could really see, as they were all saying goodbye to him, that they felt a genuine affection for my little guy. He talked to them while he was on dialysis, and they talked back - they had conversations. I know I'm a kitty parent and I'm supposed to think this, but I really feel like Pippin touched so many lives, even if only for a few days. I suspect I'm not the only one who won't forget him.

I'm crying right now, but I'm also smiling. I guess that's a step in the right direction.

Thank you for listening.

Thank you, Danny's Mom. It is nice to remember their stories, and to share them. The other day at work, we were talking about animals getting overly amorous, and I just had to laugh because Pippin really got into his play, even though he was neutered. He would chase my husband around and try to have his way with my husband's foot - especially when my husband wasn't looking! It was nice to laugh about something Pippin did, instead of sobbing because I miss him. And of course I miss him - I'm in tears now - but it was good to tell a part of his story... a part of his story that wasn't the days surrounding his death.

Pippin was very special, and I know what you mean about almost feeling their soft fur. Pippin's tummy fur was so soft, and he only let me pet it. He'd invite my husband to pet it, but then it was time for the Claws and Jaws of Doom. Me, though? I could rub his tummy all I wanted. He was certainly a mama's boy.

Over the weekend, I was driving to work, and really missing Pippin. I believe that his brother Horatio has come back to us, in our Earl Grey. Maybe that sounds crazy, but Earl bears an eerie resemblance to Horatio, and he does things that Horatio did - that our other cats never do. The silent meow. The same squeaky voice Horatio had. The way he and Karma touched noses when they first met, when we expected Karma to flip out over another male cat in the house, like they knew each other... I could go on and on. And I guess I like to think that if my husband's soul cat, Horatio, can come back, maybe my Pippin will too someday. But that day, driving to work, I wasn't believing it. I was sure Pippin is gone forever. But then there's this song that keeps playing on the radio more often than I'd expect, as I'm flipping through the channels - Perfect, by Pink. "Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than, less than perfect. Pretty, pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing, you are perfect to me." It took hearing that song multiple times on my way to and from work that weekend to realize that if Pippin could talk to me, he might very well say that. Is that crazy?

Of course, going back and reading all this, I realize I sound... a little crazy. Meh. Friday was the 8-week anniversary of his death, but today's the two month anniversary. Sorry for the crazies.

Kel

Thank you for letting us know how you are doing.

Although the grief journey is long and sometimes hard it is something we go through because of the love we have for our babies. You already showing just how much you love your pippin as you said although you wish your baby was here you would rather he was in heaven not in pain then back because you need him but still in pain. That takes a lot to say but just shows the love you had /have for him.

I think we all wish we could magic grief away but I a starting to see it as a tribute to my Chewy now. If we just got on with it after losing out pets I believe we would be ignoring the years of love we had with them.

I hope you are being treated well today.

xxForeverxx

What is it about the Tuxedos that they like their tummies rubbed? Danny LOVED tummy rubs. I'd sometimes only have to touch his hind paws and he would readily roll over and show me his beautiful tummy with the soft and fluffy fur. And he would roll his head back and forth in sheer enjoyment. Mindy, my tux girl, also likes tummy rubs, but she is still such a tiny little thing compared to Danny.

I'm having a tough time right now. I dreamt about Pippin the other night, for almost the first time since he died. It was a good dream. And then I woke up and he wasn't here, but it was okay - I felt like, crazy as it may sound, I'd gotten to spend some time with my guy. I know, logically, that I didn't, but that's how it felt.

Tonight's harder, though. I got home from work around 1 AM, and if Pippin were still here, I'd have been feeding them and watching him carefully to make sure he didn't vomit before I gave his insulin. So tonight I fed the kitties, and I decided to give them a little extra treat. I sprinkled some fresh catnip leaves on their favorite flavor of wet food, and they loved it. And then I started thinking of all the special little things I did for Pippin, to make him eat and to try to make sure he knew I loved him: a little bit of tuna here, a piece of chicken there, tuna flakes on his food to see if he'd eat it... All I could do was just sit on the floor and cry, because - as we all have been through so many times - just one more time, please. One more time. But I don't get that, and that just stinks.

And now I'm kicking myself for thinking when he got sick that I'd be able to fix him - to manage his care - to keep my precious boy alive and with me. How could I have been so foolish to think that I'd get to keep something so dear to me?

Kel, my heart aches for you. It's easy to see how much you love Pippin and how much you wanted him to get well again. You are a nurse, and Pippin was your dearest patient, and it's got to hurt so much when you try to hard and try everything that you can think of and in the end the patient dies. Please don't kick yourself. You did the best you could, and that is all you can do. The rest is simply not in your hands. I wish I could make your hurt go away. The grief journey is hard and takes a toll on us. Please take good care of yourself.

Hugs,
DannysMom

Thank you for your reply, Danny'sMom. You're right; that is a huge part of what tears me apart about losing Pippin. If you looked at what he started out with, on paper, there was NO reason he should be dead three months later. I still don't fully understand what happened, and I'm trying to accept that I may never understand it, but I find that very hard. And I try not to feel like a failure and blame myself for not being able to save him, but again, I'm finding that hard. Logically, I know that I did everything I could, and more than most would/could for him. I don't like to accept that it was so far out of my control.

I guess the good thing is that seven and a half years ago, a little tuxedo kitten fell into my hands (and my DH's). If that hadn't happened, he would never have had a fighting chance. Those last three months were filled with fear and stress, but they were also filled with love, as my husband and I made a conscious effort to cherish every moment we had with Pippin. I'm so glad we did.

Thanks again, Danny's Mom.

Kel, I hope that life is treating you kindly today. I can understand how hard it must be for your as a nurse to accept the fact that despite all you did for him Pippin still died. You fought very hard, and Pippin fought, and you tried everything you could, and that is really all you can do. You are not God. If you get yourself thinking that you HAVE to save every patient and that you HAD to save Pippin then you are putting too heavy a burden on yourself, and you are not meant to carry such a heavy burden. I know that this is a very personal loss for you, and that is why you are taking it so hard, but please don't think of yourself as a failure. You are not a failure. You fought valiantly for Pippin and did everything that you could. I know you are looking for answers and that you are trying to make sense of it all. That is human nature. We want to make sense of these things. Please be kind to yourself. Think of all the wonderful times you shared with Pippin and how playful he was.


Hugs,
DannysMom

Thank you so much, Danny's Mom. It has been a heavy burden to carry. I know I don't need to, but I'm not sure how to let it go - or maybe I'm just afraid to let it go.

Got Pippin's preliminary pathology reports. They were hard to read. Will have to write more later.

Hi, Kel, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. First I want to affirm everything that Danny's Mom shared with you in her response to you, so please read her response frequently and know that it comes from my heart, too.

Please let me try to offer you some comfort in saying that you do not have to "let go" of anything. "Letting go", "moving on", etc., is often associated with "forgetting" - - and that conjures up fears that we will forget our beloved companions. Please let me try to reassure you that you will NEVER forget your beloved Pippin - - not even the dimming of our minds with age will make this happen. One of the goals of this grief journey is to eventually have the seering physical and emotional pain of loss, and the reasons / events for this to happen, ease so that you can focus on your many treasured memories of your beloved Pippin BEFORE you became physically separated. Unfortunately this doesn't happen overnight, or within a day, a week, or month. This takes time - - one day at a time, sometimes one moment at a time - - in your own way and in your own time. Please remember that you are not alone in your journey, Kel, - - NEVER. We are here for you to share the burden of your deep sorrow, to share the less than horrible days, and to share the better days that are coming for you.

As for reading the pathology reports - - it's okay NOT to read them, at least not right now. Put the reports in a safe place for now. You will read them when your heart is ready - - and only then.

Kel, I hope today is being kind to you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Kel, I hope life is treating you kindly today. I think I do understand that as a nurse you are looking for some sort of closure, and that you are trying to make sense of what happened to Pippin and how he died despite having received the best possible care. I do hope that the pathology reports will provide the insight and answers that you are looking for. These little cat bodies are just so complex, and we do not even fully understand how they function. You are to be commended for your dedication to Pippin's care. And I'm sure he loved having you as his 'Mom'.

Moon_beam and Danny's Mom:

Thank you so much for your kind words. It's been a tough couple of weeks for me. I miss Pippin so. The moments of searing pain and loss are coming with more time in between them, but they still come, of course - I wouldn't have it any other way, as I take those moments as an indication of the depth of our bond that I am missing right now.

I'm taking one of my other cats to the vet tomorrow. He has food allergies, and his fur loss is getting worse, so I think we need to investigate it more systematically. Still, I'm scared. What if something really awful is wrong with him? We had an ultrasound done in October, 2 weeks before Pippin got sick. There were some abnormalities, but nothing that wasn't explained by a urine culture & food allergies. We need to do a repeat ultrasound at some point soon, and I'm scared out of my mind that I'm going to lose another one of my babies. I can't do this again so soon. He's acting fine (to me), but my husband's worried because he has up days and down days - some days he's super crazy active kitty, other days he sleeps more - and I have to take the kitty to the vet by myself, so I'm freaked out. Thank goodness it's the vet that knew Pippin so well, who also knows Strider well - and me well, at this point!

Of course I'm second-guessing all the decisions I made with Pippin, now. Should I have let him go sooner? What if ... what if, what if, what if? Meh. I hate that question, and I always warn the families of my patients to try to avoid it, because it does NO good. And here I am, stuck in What-If-Land.

Also, I've had time to process (mentally) Pippin's preliminary pathology report. The slides were - not pretty. It's obvious that no matter what we did, there was no fixing that. He actually had some sort of rare things going on, and they sent his pathology to a place in Texas that specializes in kidney pathology. They've seen this in 20-30 cats before, but I guess Pippin's case has the best information (his history, labs, clinical progression, treatment) that they've seen so far; they may want to include him in a paper/study/case report. Maybe someday he'll have helped someone else's kitty. I have to tell myself that, for his death to be something I can live with.

Hi, Kel, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. First let me offer you my sincerest support and encouragement with your precious Strider today. I hope his veterinary practitioner will be able to offer some greater insight into what is happening with your precious Strider - - and treatment that will continue to provide Strider an excellent quality of life with you. Please let us know how things go.

"What-If-Land" - - an excellent description of one of the many places we find ourselves in the grief adjustment journey. Unfortunately this place is a part of the grief journey. Hopefully as your deep grief eases you will find yourself being able to leave this place so that you can focus more on the infinite treasured memories you and your beloved Pippin share - - yes, share - - for his sweet Living Spirit not only shares the treasured memories he made with you during his earthly journey but continues to share your daily life events just as he always has and always will. And I know your beloved Pippin is nodding his head with great approval of what happened with him to be a source of knowledge and inspiration to the veterinary practitioners in an effort to help other fur babies who are going through the similar / same medical scenario. I hope this will offer you comfort.

hank you again so much for sharing with us how you're doing, what is happening with your precious Strider, and sharing your beloved Pippin with us. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Kel, and that I look forward to knowing how Strider's visit went with his doctor today, how things are going for you, and your treasured memories of your beloved Pippin.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Kel, I am so sorry to hear about Strider being sick with food allergies and losing his fur. I can only imagine how scared you must be of losing him, and I hope his condition can be treated. I don't know what sort of foods he is allergic to, but I can recommend Castor & Pollux 'Organix' food. It has no corn, wheat or soy, and is made from organic chicken. I feed it to both Mindy and Tina (my 14 1/2 year old Calico), and Tina has been doing well on this food.

I think it's only natural for you to be stuck in What-If-Land, because Pippin wasn't just another patient, he was your beloved little fur child. Kel, I think you did the best you could with the information you had at the time. Please don't be so hard on yourself. You are only human.

I am glad that Pippin's pathology report explained some things to you and you got some questions answered. Thanks for sharing with us about the pathology report. It seems that his case may help other cats in the future, and that is such a good thing. Kel, you did the best you could, and the rest was simply not in your hands. If you can some day accept that then I think you will have peace and it will help you in your profession as well. You cannot expect yourself to be perfect. That is too much of a burden to carry for anyone. If, at the end of the day, you know that you did the best you could, then this is really all you can do and no more is expected of you. I know your sweet Pippin was way too young to die, and you must miss him so. Please know that you are in my thoughts and prayers.

Hugs,
DannysMom

As always, Moon_beam and Danny's Mom, thank you. Your words are always a source of comfort to me. I am trying to live less in What-If Land and accept the reality of what has happened. Friday will be the three month anniversary of Pippin's death. It's hard to believe that a quarter of a year has passed without my heart. The pain is less of a constant companion, and I am finding myself able to smile about Pippin more often.

I've realized that I need to hold a little less tightly to Pippin, and that I need to allow room for the other cats in my heart. It's been so hard to connect with them - though, don't worry, I haven't been ignoring them and they're far from neglected. I need to put time and effort into my bond with the others, including the newest arrival, Earl. It was understandable for me to have to step back and let the wound scab over, but now it's time to give the love I've given to Pippin back to them. I've made an effort to play with them more, and to simply seek them out and snuggle them more, instead of letting them do their own things. A bond is work, and they deserve that work from me, now that I'm less emotionally drained. I had forgotten how much I enjoy playing with them. We put a lot of effort into playing with Pippin (and the others) while he was sick, and we gave them all a ton of attention - and then I was just numb after Pippin died. So now, although my love for Pippin is not diminished in the least, and he is still a part of me, I hold him less tightly to me, that I might bring my other "children" closer once again. I think that's what he'd want - and he left me a present last week, so I know he's still with me. My husband and I moved our bed, and found one of his favorite toys (a puffball) under it. It's a toy that NONE of the other cats play with, and I am 100% sure there was nothing under the bed before that. We ripped up the carpet in our bedroom, which meant moving everything around and cleaning under it, so it wasn't just under a nightstand and happened to roll out. I really can't think of any explanation for how it got there.

And speaking of working on bonds and such...

My husband and I have decided to adopt another cat. That brings us to crazy-cat-people levels of kitty, five in our home. It feels right, though. Last Thursday night, my cat Strider (all black) and Earl Grey (grey, of course) were sitting next to each other, and he joked, "All we need is a white one to complete the trio." Ha ha, I said. The next morning, my husband called me into his office and pointed to my veterinarian's Facebook page. There was a white cat there, a stray who had been living in one of their tech's grandmother's neighborhoods, neglected and who clearly wanted to be someone's pet; he kept running into the elderly woman's apartment building and looking for a home. We met him Saturday morning, and it was love at first sight. He is about a year old, all white, with the palest blue eyes rimmed with pink... I think he may actually be an albino (I'm pretty sure that's how it expresses in cats, pink/blue eyes). He's a polydactyl, with three extra toes on each front paw, and he's so very playful and friendly. He needs to learn that hands aren't toys, but that's an easy fix. We're bringing him home Thursday or Friday. I visited him at the vet yesterday and today, and spent a couple hours each day playing with him in their office. We're bringing a towel and blanket back and forth and swapping daily to get the cats used to each others' scents. I searched my heart to make sure I'm not trying to replace Pippin (which is silly - he's irreplaceable), and I simply think new kitty (haven't thought of a name yet!) belongs with us.

Part of the nice thing about this is just spending time at the vet playing with him and getting to know him - and catching up with my vet's office manager, who's a fantastic lady. She's the one that fostered our Horatio before we had him and lost him after two years, and she's the one that found us Pippin. We've talked about Pippin, Horatio, and all the other cats. And we've talked about losing Pippin, and how special he and Horatio were. And she, like me, wonders just a little bit if Earl Grey is Horatio returned to us. I know that's wishful thinking, probably, but I sometimes wonder; they're dopplegangers, and Earl does things I've only ever seen Horatio do. May it's just things that grey cats do. I also got to talk with our vet today about Pippin's pathology report; this is the first time he's gotten to read it. We still aren't sure what started everything, but we do know that it was a near-miracle that we kept Pippin happy, eating, playing and home until the day he went to the hospital for the last time. He played that very afternoon.

Our vet also said that new kitty and Earl Grey won the lottery when it comes to finding a home/owners. Hearing that in and of itself sets my heart at ease about Pippin. He might be gone, but my husband and I ... well, we really did give him a wonderful life. He wanted for nothing, and I like to think he always knew how very deeply loved and special he was. I like to think that he still knows that, wherever he is. Why else would he still leave us presents?

Three months today. Sigh. I miss you, Pippin.

Hi, Kel, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing, and the WONDERFUL NEWS of your new family member. As I read your post of April 25 my heart is warmed by your and your beloved Pippin's eternal love. I agree with you wholeheartedly when you say, "So now, although my love for Pippin is not diminished in the least, and he is still a part of me, I hold him less tightly to me, that I might bring my other "children" closer once again. I think that's what he'd want -". This is indeed what he wants, Kel. Your beloved Pippin is smiling with all his heart on you and your husband, and is so very proud of his Forever Mom and Dad.

Thank you again so much for sharing with us how you're doing, Kel. Perhaps some time you will want to share a picture(s) of your new family member with us - - if / when you want to. I hope today is treating you kindly, Kel. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam