I searched around on the net for a bit before deciding I liked the general tone I found on this forum. A friend of mine recommended that writing and sharing on a pet forum might help. I told him then that I was still feeling like I needed to do something 'more', that I didn't feel comfortable repeating conversations with friends and family. They had already offered what sympathy they could, and as much as I valued that, it didn't feel 'right' to go there again. Many people had said 'so sad' and offered their sympathy, but I still felt that since few of them knew my furry boy and since only some of them had pets, I felt mostly alone in how I faced it and dealt with it.

I want something for others to see: to show that he mattered to someone very much, and that he had a human dad and mom who loved him. I notice this forum has a memorial section. I'll probably try to write something there, too.

The reason why I'm coming to this part of the forum is because we are moving to a new home and a part of me feels quite uncomfortable about it. Another part of me longs for it. I know it will be better for me and my family in the long run.

I think despite making the mistake of bottling emotion up in the beginning I have mostly gone since then in more healthy directions. Still, there are a few things about his death that I still find very difficult to let go of. Another friend of mine said that he believes it's a certain lack of closure. I think he might be right...

My boy died on September 2nd, 2011. Now, almost eight months later, we will be moving. This is the last home we had with him. Whatever answers I had once hoped to find about what happened to him here I will have walk away from.

We named him Anatole. We read on some baby name website that it was French and meant 'from the east'. Whether or not that was accurate, he was one of two cats we picked up when living in South Korea, and it seemed to fit him in more ways than one.





I always did and still do consider myself more of a "dog person". My wife is the cat person. Still, we got cats. In spite of myself and my predispositions, it wasn't long before I had found that I had bonded with our cats.

Although our female cat and I developed an affectionate bond, too, and we would sometimes joke about how our little girl would "suck up to daddy", for whatever reason I always felt like I was closer to our male cat, Anatole. Sometimes, it almost seemed like the two felines had organized themselves like his-and-her matching towels: the girl was often found curled up with my wife, and the boy typically rested on or next to me.





For seven years he was with us. During that time, it was quite uncommon that I did not wake up to find him sleeping with his head resting on my shin or knee. When we went away on trips back then, I remember feeling like something was missing when I tried to go to sleep. I'd look forward to returning home, so my over-sized furball would be there and sleeping would feel 'right' again.

When we eventually looked at returning from South Korea back to Canada, some people asked us if we would get rid of them (meaning find another good home for them). We believed and still do believe that adopting an animal is for life and that a responsible person will only give their companion to a new family if they feel they have no other choice. It was a great hassle getting the papers we needed and then getting them through Korean and Canadian customs, but they made the trip frightened but intact and stayed with us.

When I think back, I often look to this as perhaps the first memory I have to tell myself that I was not in the habit of giving up on him.

Things went well after a period of adjustment to our first apartment back in Canada. Eventually, we got a third cat when we saw a notice that someone had found some strays with no surviving mother and was looking for homes for them. Felix joined our family, an adorable mixed-breed Maine Coon. Apparently, Maine Coons are noted for their dog-like behaviour. I don't want to change the focus from Anatole, but let's say that a cat acting like a dog pulled on my heart strings and I was soon paying a lot more attention to Felix than the other cats. I began to worry about Anatole. I wondered if I should feel like I was forgetting about my bond with him and if I should feel guilty, or whether he might feel like the newcomer was stealing his special relationship with me. Silly thoughts, I suppose, other than worrying about cats getting jealous. Anatole turned out to be remarkably tolerant of the new kitten, putting up with all sorts of unsolicited pouncing and unrestrained 'kitten play'. Anatole also started actively protecting and guarding Felix from our other cat, Kisha. This is a habit that he continued to his last days, even after Felix was full grown. Any cat so much as hissing at Felix would bring Anatole running, getting in-between, and driving the other cat away. His big adopted brother, his protector, and his friend, the two were almost always together: either wrestling, lounging, or patrolling.

This taking the young cat under his wing further shaped my feelings towards Anatole. Despite my concerns, my bond with him was never replaced by my newer bond with Felix. Although not nearly as needy and dog-like as Felix, he was still a sweetheart. We viewed all our cats as our "furry kids", and it was plain that the relationship I felt was not only one of companionship but for me was also a parental one. I started to get this 'eldest boy' feeling with Anatole. I knew I could count on him to look out for Felix.

By that time, hands down, Anatole had become the undisputed prince of cats in our house and the dominant feline. He was the biggest of our cats, the fastest, and most agile, and he was by far the smartest. Opening doors and breaking into things we tried to keep shut from him, while annoying, still made me feel proud of him.





For our second apartment, we tried moving in with a co-worker of my wife and sharing a larger place. The woman was younger than us and we found out later that despite being a nice person she didn't have exactly the same ideas as us about pets. She had a cat that we did know about before moving in, but she had not told us that she had not had her 'fixed'. During that time Anatole also developed an badly impacted tooth. He had been in a lot of pain for a long time before we had found out and got it taken care of. So between the pain, a female cat in heat, that cat contesting with Anatole over dominance for the house, unfixed males coming from who knows how far to whiz on the side of the house (due to the female going through heat cycles), and the female spending time with Felix and fighting with Anatole over that, too, well… Various behavioral problems developed for Anatole—some of which which threatened our ability to keep him. It took some time before we convinced our roommate to get her cat an operation, before we found the means to correct Anatole's new behavioral problems, and before things became easier. Moving out was a part of it, too.

I went to bed many nights fretting about whether we'd be able to keep Anatole. I went through anxiety about possibly losing him. At one point, our roommate demanded that we get rid of him. At that point I said that we would move out. Without meaning to, she and we were all at fault for putting him through what brought him to that point. It wasn't his fault. He was a part of my family and I refused to give up on him.

I often cite that moment as another example to tell myself that I was not in the habit of giving up on him.

Things were good at the new—our current—apartment for a long time. The behavioral problems vanished and he was back to his old self. Although concerned at first about cars and other animals, we had started letting our cats outside. We purposely chose a place with a long commute on the metro in order to get a quiet neighborhood—one where we felt he'd be safe going outside. The freedom to roam seemed to help him readjust, establish his need for territory, and had been a part of the process we used to make living with us normal again. He really seemed to come alive even more during those two good years. He strengthened, looked even healthier than before, had a vibrant kind of energy, and not only seemed proud but was as relaxed, calm, and gentle as he had always been if not more so.

Towards the last few months of his life with us, things took a downturn. Although, still healthy and vibrant, someone who lives very close by took issue with him. When arguments with this neighbor got bad I offered to keep Anatole locked up inside all the time if that would help. As some kind of gesture to make sure our cats were not bothering him. For whatever reason, that person never took my offer. He seemed more satisfied to go on hating my cat, like he wanted to continue having arguments with me. I think the guy is just mean spirited sometimes and is probably maybe a little crazy. Then one night I came home, after someone had stolen my phone when I wasn't paying attention. I was really upset and began to vent about it once we got home. Anatole seemed to be set off by this mood of mine. I don't know if it was just me being upset, or if the aggressive neighbor had undermined his sense of security one day and then I was the final straw.

Anyhow, he urinated on our bed. So we had to bar him from the bedroom until we were sure that this behavior was not going to repeat itself. We wouldn't be able to keep him in our small apartment if the behavior continued and escalated, so we controlled whether or not he had access to the object (our bed). Once again, I found myself fretting over whether we might lose him. We had to block the door with a heavy object because he was so good at opening doors. When he realized something was blocking him, he would stretch his long large body and bang on the handle of the door. I tried to go to sleep but it broke my heart hearing him cry and bawl to get in. I wished he could come in and rest his head on my knee as I slept as he always done for all those years, but… Anyhow, many many nights I couldn't bear it. I'd get up and go spend time with him in either the kitchen or living room. I'd get my chair and put one of my t-shirts on in. He'd jump up and curl up on it. Sometimes I'd stay up with him to the wee hours of the morning consoling him until he fell asleep, even though I might have to work early the next day.

I'd say things like, "I'm doing this because I want to keep you with us. Work with me on this. I can't lose you, OK? We'll fix this and you can sleep in the bedroom again someday. I'm sad about it too, but don't worry. I'm here. Your papa is here. I love you. I'm so very proud of you." Some might say that talking to a cat is crazy, but I do believe that at the very least we can communicate our mood, and I believe an effective way is to just talk to an animal like you would a human being. Some of my Korean students told me of something they called "nunchi" (forgive the spelling please if the romanization is wrong). The idea is that it is possible for us to understand something of what another person is trying communicate even if we don't understand a single word that is coming out of their mouth. Some glimpse of mood, intent, or disposition, through body language or some other medium is still communicated. Anyhow, he would seem to "get" my "nunchi". He'd look at me with that affectionate look that I liked to call his 'hey Dad' look, purr, and he'd eventually fall asleep. Then I would go to bed myself.

I sometimes remember this, I tell myself, yes I loved him and I wouldn't give up on him.

Anyhow, things got under control again, and everything was fine again. Until one night and the morning that followed it…

Anatole had gotten into the habit of sometimes staying out all night. I was staying up late on that particular Thursday night doing nothing important, but I didn't need to work on the following day. I felt more uneasy than usual about him staying out late. We live in a two story building with a backyard on a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood. We have the second floor for our apartment. Several times that night I went out and called for him. I walked up and down the street calling for him. I heard and saw nothing.

I never thought to check the backyard. After all, it was a safe place and if he were there and wanted to come in he would have just run up and come in when I came out and called.

The following morning, our landlady rang on our door. She seemed very distressed and said that Anatole was in the backyard. She was concerned because he was just laying down and didn't try to run when she approached, and that something seemed wrong.

We ran out back. He was there and seemed very anxious. He seemed unable to stand on his back legs.

I spoke to him, told him it was OK, and that we were there. I scooped him up into my arms and rushed him up the stairs into our apartment. Some part of me started to think the thought, what I knew it probably was, but I immediately shut it down in exchange for hoping that it might be something we could fix.

He moved his forelegs in a few attempts to stand but his back legs wouldn't work. He couldn't go to the litter box—he couldn't even hold himself up long enough to drink some water. My wife tried to help him drink because we figured he had to be thirsty, but he kept refusing to drink. He would purr a little if I stroked him and payed attention to him, but otherwise he just laid there and did nothing other than make sad sounds occasionally. It was like he had given up and was waiting. Felix immediately got worked up, started pacing around him and crying, and I couldn't think clearly. My wife said she would take Anatole to the vet's as soon as it opened, and insisted that I still go to my physiotherapy appointment that I had that day.

By the time my appointment was done, I got a call from my wife. She was crying and told me that the vet had said that Anatole's back had been broken. I took the metro over to our part of town and grabbed a cab from there—the fastest way I knew how to get there. I remember being sad and trying not to think. The rest is a bit of a blur.

The vet was very kind and spared no time trying to re-explain to me what he had told my wife. Anatole had suffered some kind of impact or trauma. He said that no matter what they did, even if there weren't other complications with waste elimination or risks associated with procedures, there was a 99% chance that he would only go on to be 1% of the cat he had been. He would never play or run again, and he would only lay on the floor. He wouldn't be able to even eat and drink without help.

I was and still am so proud of him. He had been such a vibrant and proud cat. It broke my heart.

Right there I wanted to scream. I wanted to lash out. On top of everything, I suspected that hostile neighbor of having done the damage. So much wanted to come out and I didn't dare let it. Tears came down uncontrollably but a lot I tried to keep from coming out.

My wife told me through her own tears that she thought we needed to put him down. I respect what she must have felt to be the first one to say it. I nodded knowing she was right and I told her, "Moment…" I couldn't bring myself to say it.

He was resting on my lap as I held him and they waited on my response. I remembered a time when he had been a kitten and scared and I had promised him, and myself, that I would always look out for him and protect him, and that I would never abandon him. The result waited on my response, and I don't know how long I sat there with him unable to speak.

Finally, I was able to say the words… The next few minutes passed with me in silence holding him, as my poor wife left me with him and took it upon herself to go through the paperwork with the vet for the lethal injection procedure.
We were asked if we wanted to go home and let them take care of it by themselves and reminded us that it wasn't necessary for us to go through it. I remember saying no and saying that I couldn't leave him. I wanted to be there for him no matter what.

It's hard to describe what I remember of Anatole's behavior. I remember him being happy that we were there. Despite that he had seemed to have given up, he purred and showed the usual signs of pleasure when we patted him. He seemed comforted that we were with him. He also seemed to be reacting to all of our crying and noticing that we were upset. I remember him showing me affection, I think trying to cheer me up. A part of me thinks that as a cat he may not have understood what was going on. He kept looking at me with his 'hey Dad' looks, with all the trust that he had ever shown me. Trusting that I would do whatever I could to make it all better. Sometimes, I wonder if he understood on some level what was going on. It seemed as though some of his immense feline pride returned and at that moment he just wanted me to be happy.

In the short moments after the needle went in, one thing stands out in my memory. He held my gaze. Before that moment, if we held each other's gaze for long he would always politely defer to me and either close his eyes or turn his head away. In those last few moments he just held my gaze as I held his held his head and gently stroked him. He just purred happily and continued to look at me.

I knew what was coming, but despite that I couldn't help but say his name when it started. I gently shook him as he slipped away as if I thought I could hang on to him and keep him longer. I continued to hold him as I watched the light go out… Then he was gone.

It was a silent walk home with his empty cat carrier.

I inspected the backyard when we returned. According to the vet, he couldn't have moved from where he was found and showed no signs of having attempted to crawl in spite of it. After inspecting the yard, I found that there was nothing he could have fallen from, and nothing that could have fallen on him. There were, however, rocks and a pile of large sticks of just the right weight and size to do that sort of damage. Had he either not run away from a familiar face or had gone onto a certain porch that a certain hostile neighbor didn't want him on, he could have been cornered. One blow could have slowed him down and a second one could have left him where we later found him.

Sadly, someone attacking him in the backyard while we slept still remains the most likely explanation. The hostile neighbor remained the most likely suspect in my mind and in the minds of some others, but there was no proof, and no grounds on which to accuse him. A week before Anatole was found with a broken back, the hostile neighbor and I had had a heated argument where for the first time I began to feel worried for Anatole's safety. By the end, he seemed to have calmed down and apologized and told me to forget about feeling like I might need to keep Anatole inside, so I told myself that all was well. Anyhow, it would not be right to accuse him. After all, he might be completely innocent. We really don't know what happened. It would be wrong to accuse an old man and a neighbor of that just on a suspicion.

It could have also been, I suppose, some mean-spirited drunk or passer by that wandered in and caught him by surprise, though that seems unlikely. Even more unlikely, I suppose it could have been a large dog running loose that had caught, grabbed and shook, and then left him alone otherwise unharmed. I guess its possible, though only once in two years did we ever see a large loose dog running around unsupervised in this area.

Grieving for me was not unlike what some other people have written about. The first week was difficult. The "little ghosts" were many and very vivid. I'd remember how he used to sleep on my lap sometimes when I was in the living room and wrap his forelegs around my waist like he was hugging me. I'd see brief images of him in my mind's eye laying on top of his favorite spots as well. I felt a sensation like him pawing my leg, like he always used to when alive to tell me he wanted up on my lap, and then a second later I was shocked at how real it felt. I kept catching myself putting food in his dish out of habit when I fed the other two cats. I'd wake up in the middle of the night from sleep having heard him—perhaps in a dream, but sounding to my mind like he had been there in the apartment.

By the second week I felt the little ghosts starting to fade. It was one part relief and another part sadness. A part of me didn't want them to go away or to stop.

Eventually, I got used to expecting him to not be there anymore, but some things continued.

I still stop each time as I pass the vet's where he died. It happens to be along the quickest and most convenient route to a nearby convenience store so I end up passing by more often than I'd choose to.

When I'd come home late sometimes and my wife had already let him outside, he used to always be waiting for me either on the front steps or somewhere close by. He'd meet me halfway, welcome me home, flop on the ground for a belly rub, and follow me inside. Now the steps and street are always empty, but I still look longingly wishing that I could see him again.

When I climb the stairs to our apartment, I sometimes relive the memory of bringing him hurt and back into the house.

I still sometimes look outside to where I used to see him running around, and once again I wish that I could see him again. But I know he's gone…

I sometimes still have to remind myself that I didn't give up on him, but I know that I'm trying to cope and deal with things in a healthy way.

Sometimes the hardest thing about it all is that I really am coping and continuing to let go. Feeling guilty about being able to cope is sometimes the hardest sense of guilt to shake off.

I never found out what happened to him...

I've been living in a state of hostile suspicion around my home ever since Anatole died. I'm always watching what that neighbor is doing when I happen to see him now. We don't let our other cats out anymore. When I come home, I'm always casting a hateful glance over at the windows of where he lives. Sometimes I find myself stopping and reminding myself again that the neighbor might be innocent. The neighbor seems to have retreated more inside since then and seems to avoid coming out now. At least when I'm around...

During the time shortly after Anatole died, we tried asking all of the neighbors—even the one we suspect—if they had seen anything. I tried phoning the SPCA to see if I could at least file a report of some kind. "My cat was attacked. Assailant unknown but here's the address…" At least if there were a report, I thought, if another incident happened to another family in the future in this neighborhood and there was something for police and animal welfare groups to look into, there would at least be something already on record. The SPCA representative I spoke to here in Montréal expressed their condolences and apologized profusely, saying that they couldn't even file a report unless someone had witnessed something or there was some kind of proof.

I don't know what happened. I probably will never know.

However, I'm still left with the knowledge that my boy was likely attacked by someone who lives close by. I'm left with the knowledge that someone attacked a member of my family and broke their back. Yes, a cat, but still a part of our family and very dear to us. I really did regard myself as his adopted dad as much as his human companion. Something bad happened to my boy. Very likely that a person who lives close by attacked him and got away with it… Nothing to make it right… No repercussions, no consequences, no justice for my family… Nothing… I wanted to do right by my boy, and I came up with nothing.

This has left me with the feeling of needing to do something 'more'… Something for him… Maybe posting here to this forum will help in some way.

I feel like moving away will be good for me and my family, but...

I imagine I will likely visit the backyard where he was found and where I had picked him up that day. I'll likely sit there for some time and then eventually feel the need to go. Then I'll get in the moving van and leave this place that has been our home, and our last home with him.

I have a (human) daughter now who is four months old. I'm still stunned by how much sadness I felt for Anatole, and yet there's been so much happiness in recent months, too. Anatole, I know, would have doted on our daughter and loved her very much. I still wish he could have been here, for her to grow up with, but that will never happen now. There are reasons to be happy and ways to remember him well. Our other cats still survive him and need me, including Felix, his kitten.

Yet this... This thing still sticks with me.

Leaving this place without answers will be hard. However, the sad reality is that I will likely never know for a fact what happened to him.

Oh, DLL. I am so, so sorry for your loss of sweet Anatole. The thing that stands out most to me in the words you've written is that you didn't give up on him. I think that Anatole knows you were not giving up on him - that you were sending him on to a place that is free of pain, in the deepest gesture of love an animal's guardian can give. You took this pain of loss into your heart, so that Anatole did not have to suffer. Think back to how he held your gaze and purred. To me, that says, "Hey, Dad, I know. I know. And I still love you."

I am sorry that you have reason to suspect your neighbor in this; leaving your home will be hard, but it sounds as if getting away from that toxicity is a very good thing.

Please know that you are not alone. This hole in your heart - we've all felt it. Still do. I encourage you to share as many memories of your sweet Anatole as you want to. I would love to hear more about him - he sounds like such a special boy, and you and he went through many miles and years together (but it's never enough, is it?).

I don't know, DLL - maybe it's better not to find out for real what happened to him. How devastating would it be to have your suspicions confirmed? I do understand how difficult not knowing is, though. Maddening, really.

Again, please let me say how incredibly sorry I am that your sweet Anatole died. I am so, so very glad though that he had seven wonderful years with you, and I have no doubt that Anatole always knew - and still does - that you NEVER gave up on him.

Hi, DLL, please permit me to add my sincerest sympathies in the physical loss of your beloved Anatole. 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 at great sacrifice to ourselves so that they can be restored to their former youthfulness in the company of the angels. To lose a companion so tragically intensifies the grief.

There are many things I can so understand in your and your beloved Anatole's earthly journey together. I, too, know what it's like to have a companion die from inflicted injury from a "neighbor" - - during a period of time in our society when there were no "legal channels" for prosecution or at the very least having the person voluntarily accept responsibility. As you share with us the fact that your "neighbor" has changed his behavior - - become more reclusive - - is suspicious of his being on the top of the list of "suspects." I am glad you tried to alert your neighborhood and the authorities about what happened, even though the authorities could not make an official report. Please try to find some comfort in your heart that this event will be remembered should there be another occurrence, and perhaps "justice" will prevail for your beloved Anatole, even though you may not be aware of it.

I am so smiling at your account of how your beloved Anatole took charge over his adopted baby brother Felix. This is how it was with my number one kitty son Eli and his adopted baby brother Noah. I know how much your heart swells with love and pride as you remember your beloved Anatole and all his loving and mischievous ways during his earthly journey with you. As I read through your account of your beloved Anatole's earthly journey with you my heart is warmed by your devotion and dedication to him. You did the very best by him that was humanly and humanely possible in giving him a safe, healthy, and happy journey with you.

DLL, my heart genuinely shares your deepest grief in the physical absence of your beloved Anatole. There is no such thing as "closure" or "getting over" the physical loss of a loved one - - whatever the life form. These are terms that were developed by clinical professionals during the early years of hospice. "Closure" and "getting over" imply being able to "forget" - - and NOTHING in heaven or on earth will ever be able to make you FORGET your beloved Anatole - - and what happened to him. This grief journey is one of ADJUSTMENT TO the physical absence of your beloved Anatole. It is a painful journey both emotionally and physically, and it includes the painful reality of having to develop a "new normal" that no longer includes the physical care your beloved Anatole needed during his earthly journey with you. This adjustment does not happen overnight, in a day, a week, a month - - or even a year. Although clinical professionals now recognize that the first year of the grief journey is the hardest - - as it includes all the "firsts without" - - the sorrow of loss does not automatically evaporate when the calendar indicates that the first year "angel-versary" has passed. Although the deep grief does ease and we are able to adjust to the "new normals", there is always the reality that a part of us is missing - - because our beloved companions take a part of us with them - - a part of us that belongs only to them - - when they precede us to the angels.

The good news is that your beloved Anatole's sweet Living Spirit is forever with you wherever you go and whatever you do. He continues to share your earthly journey just as he always has and always will. The love bond you and your beloved Anatole share is eternal, DLL - - it is no longer restricted to the physical laws of time and space. He is forever a part of you, DLL - - he is forever in your heart and your memories - - he is forever a heartbeat close to you.

It is an excellent idea for you to try to find a way to give your beloved Anatole a loving memorial - - a living tribute to your eternal love bond. I always found working on my companions' memorial scrapbooks and videos very comforting because they helped me to focus on the many wonderful memories I share with them. I made copies of the memorials I did and gave copies to their veterinary practitioners and vet techs to thank them for the loving care they gave to my beloved companions during their earthly journey. There are so many ways you can honor your beloved Anatole, DLL, and I hope you will find comfort and pleasure in whatever you do.

And may I try to offer you comfort about your new home: Look forward to it, DLL, for your beloved Anatole will be there with you in your heart and your memories. I know this is one of the many difficult "firsts without" for you in your adjustment journey - - and I know a huge part of you feels like you are leaving a part of yourself "behind" at that apartment. And to a certain extent you are. BUT I assure you your beloved Anatole is with you and is smiiing with great approval in this new adventure in your life. One of the best loving tributes you can give to your beloved Anatole is to continue in your earthly journey and embrace all the wonderful blessings in your life - - as he taught you to do through his physical earthly journey. So please know you CAN look FORWARD, DLL, with the reassurance that your beloved Anatole is right there with you sharing your life's journey.

Thank you so very much for sharing your beloved Anatole with us, DLL. He is such a handsome little man, and there is no doubt whatsoever that he is loved by his Forever Dad. One of the many things you need to remember is that you are never alone as you travel your adjustment journey, DLL. Each of us here do understand what you are going through, and we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, DLL, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Thank you both for your kind words. It's very much appreciated.

Hi DLL
First of all, I really want to thank you for rescuing two sacred and precious children of my mother land. Cats are the most powerfully pure and loving animals, so innocent and without guile, perfect, wise with incredibly amazing spirit and stunning physical beauty. I have always felt bottomless despair because most koreans in korea treat cats with such violence and pure sadism because of utter stupidity and idiocy. So to you I want to say a million times thank you for rescuing two of my sacred family. Attitides there are too slow to change about animals, it is beyond criminal. So for that first seminal act of kindness, may blessing surround and prtect you and your complete family.

I too rescued two dogs from the east and brought them home.

My cat Beauty died 2 months ago and its been the most utter despair and pain I can't endure. Sadness drenches me every second to every second

I strongly believe your beloved Anatole IS watching over your family, new and old, feline and human. He is sitting there lovingly guarding, large and princely

Thanks, Hesista

I'm sorry to hear about the loss of your cat, Beauty.

I would like to say that I had the good fortune to meet many kind and generous people from your homeland. Some made very lasting and positive impressions on me. I feel I would be failing somehow if I didn't offer these words in return to the kindness you offered me. Thank you.

You did manage to stir a pleasant memory, though.

Sadly, both of our cats from Korea were terrified of strangers. Anatole in particular had a traumatic experience with an old man as a kitten. Anyhow, when we we landed in Vancouver and got the cats through customs (to later transfer to yet another flight—poor cats) we forgot how they might be looked at differently in Canada. It seemed as though every woman we passed in the airport, and a good portion of the men, too, were turning to smile at them as we passed. It felt like they were celebrities all of a sudden. Many people 'oooh'ed' and 'ah'ed' and a few came up and offered us compliments and tried to say hello to them.

Anatole was a big cat, and we had set him up with a big comfortable cushion in his carrier. What he did with it, however, was crawl underneath the cushion to hide. It was sad that he was scared, but kind of funny that a large cat was hiding from so many admirers. He was safe, we were all together, and we would soon be in a new home. It was a good day.

I forget sometimes how even after many positive experiences with friends and visitors here where we live now, he remained distrustful of people he didn't know well. That he trusted me so much, he made me feel very special.

Hi, DLL, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing, and this wonderful memory of your beloved Anatole. I am so awed by your account of your beloved Anatole's travels back home to Canada with you. I, too, know how awed you feel by Anatole's complete and total trust of you. How wonderful that you and your beloved Anatole formed this special love bond unshared with others. Indeed you ARE very special to him, DLL.

I hope today is treating you and your family kindly. Thank you again for sharing your beloved Anatole with us. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

The weekend has finally arrived. On Sunday we move.

I don't know if posting here, the kind thoughts and words offered here, declaring in a public place (here to other people out there in the world) that he mattered, or if simply the thought of change is behind it, but... Something feels a little better than last week.

The pangs of his loss still linger the same as before, I still wake up and feel the apartment empty without him, and I feel I will find myself years and years from now still sometimes occasionally looking out and wishing I could see him again just as I do now. The unanswered questions, the suspicions, and wondering if my neighbor attacked him will never be something I can totally reconcile. Something bad did happen to him, and that I was never able to see some sort of answer for that, some sort of justice, is something that will continue to be an unpleasant memory.

It's hard to believe it's actually been eight months.

Still, some small part of my soul feels a little more at peace than it did before expressing myself here. If only a little... If only a little, I feel a little more able to face moving away, and feel a little more confident that I will not be failing to honor my boy.

I think I might try to post a few more things here.

I want to share something. It's a song that came up sometime during the end of that first week—something that for months I listened to at least once a day, usually in the morning when I'd be facing the same lack of him as the day before and needed something. So I could get to work feeling like I honored him by devoting a small piece of my day to him, like the day before, allowing me to feel less guilty about trying to put his death out of my thoughts so I could function at work as I needed to...

I don't think it was of much if any comfort to me at the time, but I felt it reminded me of something important. At the time it was more of a feeling. Now it makes more sense, I think...

The first time after Anatole's death that the song came up on our computer, the lyrics hit home emotionally and I completely fell apart.

It's a song about a human woman, of course, and not a male cat, but:




Of course, I disagree that it's better to forget. Cry if that's what you are feeling. Face whatever emotions are there.

I don't feel that is the point or intent of the song, though. It's what the woman in the song is saying, not what the song itself is saying. The song is very much a sad song and about expressing the sorrow of a such a loss.

I think the idea is that loved ones who pass away, human or otherwise…. Well, they would want you to live, to be happy, and to be well as much as you are able to.

The woman in this song so very much wants her loved one to not only remember her, but also to live and be happy as much as they can. She wants it so much that she says what she does the way she does.

It's love.

She doesn't want to ever be forgotten ('remember me' is the first thing she says) and she wants to have mattered, but she wants her loved one to go on, to be happy, and to be well even more than that.


We can try to hold a candle for the happy memories, when ready, as a loved one would want. To try to as often as possible make their memory a source of happiness, because that's what they would want. We can try to go on when we are ready, because that's what they would want. For them...

For them, that's what have to try to do when we are ready. For them...

It doesn't make the pain go away. It doesn't take what is wrong and make it right. But, it can restore the beloved to their rightful place in our hearts... It's not an easy thing to do sometimes, but it is one last thing we can continue to try to do for them. Try to live and be happy again in spite of everything... One last thing we can try to give them, because it's what they would want.

I know he loved me. And although cats don't rationalize things in the ways that we do, I know that he would want me to be happy. He'd want me to be well. He'd want his dad to be OK. I can try to give him that. I can try at least... And on those bad days, which are becoming fewer and fewer, when I'm not OK; I can try again. For him...


I still feel uncomfortable at the thought of leaving all the memories in this place, but I feel like I will also be doing it for him now—not just for me. That helps...

Hi, DLL, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing, and your most insightful thoughts on the eternal love you and your beloved Anatole share. For different tragic reasons I do so understand how you feel when you say, "The pangs of his loss still linger the same as before, I still wake up and feel the apartment empty without him, and I feel I will find myself years and years from now still sometimes occasionally looking out and wishing I could see him again just as I do now. The unanswered questions, the suspicions, and wondering if my neighbor attacked him will never be something I can totally reconcile. Something bad did happen to him, and that I was never able to see some sort of answer for that, some sort of justice, is something that will continue to be an unpleasant memory." When tragic events happen in our lives the effects of them do continue on with us - - they can never totally be reconciled. As I have found in my journey post-trauma the goal is continue on with courage - - even when we feel there is no courage to be found - - and to embrace the treasured memories which are always with us in our hearts with the knowledge that love is eternal - - and, as with you and your beloved Anatole - - his sweet Living Spirit continues to share your earthly journey wherever you go and whatever you do. He is now sharing your earthly journey in real time - - no longer dependent upon you having to return home from work or errands to share with him what you have seen and been doing. Hopefully as you and your family embrace your new home you will feel your beloved Anatole there with you - - letting you know he is always and forever with you.

Thank you so very much for sharing your beloved Anatole with us, DLL. I know this weeked is going to be a very busy one in final preparation for your and your family's move, and then once arrived in your new home there will be the unpacking and organizing which will be another very busy time. Please know we are here for you, DLL, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing. There are no "expiration dates" here for sharing with us how things are going for you.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Thanks...


It's been a few weeks since I logged into this forum. Although the new apartment has some problems we didn't notice or otherwise anticipate, overall the move feels like it was for the best.


I still think of my cat, Anatole, everyday, but some things feel easier to deal with. No longer living where someone had attacked him and not having any proof who it was, well I no longer find myself staring hatefully towards a certain neighbour's window or keeping tabs on what he may be up to if I notice him outside. I no longer live next to that. That was toxic, and after eight months it was clear no new information would be shed on the matter.

I almost feel like I'm able to just deal with the loss and the grief, without those other circumstances now. Almost...


I had awoken from a dream where Anatole was in my arms. I held him again, just for a moment, and then I woke up. Focusing my eyes, I saw Felix—our other male cat, and one of the remaining two of the former three cats in our family. He was sitting some distance away, and looked so alone.

I remembered how he and Anatole went everywhere together, used to wrestle and play together, and how Anatole always guarded Felix from other cats. I remembered how I used to let them roam outside together...

The normal sadness welled up, but then again, those feelings of 'what if I had taken that crazy neighbour more seriously' and the mixed feelings about having to euthanize Anatole came back and I had to wrestle with them again much like at the old apartment.

Felix seemed to sense something, cried, ran over to me, and started licking me frantically. I hugged him, and emotion welled up even more.


Later that night, I re-opened a conversation with my wife that I have had many times during those eight months after Anatole had died.
"I did everything I could, didn't I?"

Always supportive and obviously still concerned about me regarding this, she said, "Of course. What else could you have done?"

I had tried asking all of the neighbours if they had seen or heard anything that night. I had searched the yard and the neighbourhood for clues or evidence. I had expressed suspicions and concerns to close friends. I had phoned the SPCA asking if it was possible to at least file a report with either them or the police. When unfortunate enough to have to speak with the man in passing, I was always watching and listening for anything—anything that would help me determine if he was hiding that he did it. Although he sometimes said things which seemed to make me more suspicious of him, no proof... No proof...

"Maybe I could have grabbed him and accused him. Maybe there would have been something in his eye, some physical reaction, some tell-tale sign of guilt that I could have picked up on. Maybe someone else did it and not him, but it still seems so much like he did it."

This hit on the feeling again that I still get sometimes like I just 'let him get away with it.'

She touched me and said, "You yourself said it would be wrong to accuse him without proof because he * might * be innocent. NO good would have come from accusing him. If you lost your temper and struck him, YOU would be in trouble—not him. And our family would lose again... Even if you maintained complete control, no good would have come from doing that."

And then she repeated, "You did everything you could."


She is right, but it didn't make the feelings go away.

Hello DLL,

We have not met on this forum yet, but I have continued to keep tabs of you and Anatole. Although I do not have cats of my own, I do seem to babysit several of them when their parents go away for a weekend or so. You might see my posts to my beloved Trevor that I try to write every night. He was/is my C-o-c-k-e-r Spaniel (a rescue) who passed away last July 22, after a two year struggle with major neurologic problems, most likely caused by trauma.

I just want to let you know, that, as the parent of a special needs animal companion, I am so sorry for the awful loss you experience(d). Oh my, you love(d) Anatole so much! It shows through in every single word. I think I know what that love feels like and then the tragedy that strikes is horrible. For what it is worth, I do believe that the perpetrator (be it your neighbor or some other slug) will be made to "answer for" and "ammend" what he has done. Perhaps, not in our life time, but certainly in the next. That is the "justice" I hope for for my Trevor and also your Anatole. (I love that name.)

I'm glad that you got to see Anatole in your dream. I've never had the good fortune to be visited by any of my boys. Whew - can't wait for the next life! But I do believe that all of our beloved boys and girls are, not only right next to our hearts, but also have a place for their Spirit to "hang out" at times. I choose to call it Heaven and KNOW that Trevor, Gretta, Hermy and Anatole, along with so many others keep each other company and help each other out when needed, especially in the beginning. How absolutely amazing it will be when you and Anatole are reunited.......forever! Spirit-to-Spirit.

Finally, I, too, would like to reassure you that you did do everything possible for your Anatole. Hindsight is 20/20 and is always perfect. That is why we don't have it ahead of time. Please give yourself the break that Anatole has already given you: the knowledge that you loved him far more than most and that your love was/is forever.

Thank you for letting me add a couple of cents worth of words. I do think of you, your wife and Anatole so often. And I hope that Father Time and Mother Nature will continue to nurture you in the best way possible.

Blessings.....................
Bobbie (Trevor's mom)

Hi, DLL, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. If I may please try to offer you some words of comfort.

For different tragic reasons I do so understand how you feel about your previous neighbor. My furkids at the time and I also lived in a toxic neighborhood situation. At one point in time my canine companion at the time, my now beloved Samson, became very ill. The vet asked me repeatedly if he had gotten into any poison - - and I could only say not that I know of, - - except the possibility of a deliberate act. The vet questioned me intensely to reveal my suspicions but I could not in all "fairness" name the neighbor - - who was also a client of his and without proof. My Samson recovered from the initial illness, but he had permanent side effects which required daily medication for his digestive tract. Things continued to decline in the neighborhood and that is when I sold the house in the city at a loss and moved my companions and me out to the country. It has been 16 years now, and my heart still wonders from time to time how cruel some people can be - - and the uneasiness of "not knowing" for a certainty what happened and who was responsible can still haunt me.

But I was fortunate to have a good friend who offered his encouragement and support who told me just what your wife has shared with you. It eventually helped 16 years ago, as recalling his wise words continue to help me through the moments of reflection. Please permit me to affirm your wife's loving words of support and comfort to you, DLL. And please know your beloved Anatole is eternally grateful to you for being his Forever Dad.

I hope today is being kind to you, your wife, and your precious companions, DLL, and thank you so very much for sharing your beloved Anatole with us. Please know you, your wife, and your precious companions are in my thoughts and prayers, that I look forward to knowing how you're doing, and to sharing your treasured memories of your beloved Anatole.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Thank you

As of today, it's been one year.

I don't know really what to say other than that. So many people on this forum have shared stories and I feel so many here already know what this day means to me.

Right now, I find myself thinking of how he would welcome me home every night and how I would always wake up and find him sleeping next to me. I remember holding him as he died.

Good memories, and painful memories... It just felt important to do something to acknowledge the day today.

Hi, DLL, thank you so much for sharing your and your beloved Anatole's one year angel-versary with us. Just because the calendar says that the first year of adjustment to your beloved Anatole's physical absence has been survived does not mean that the sorrow automatically disappears. Your beloved Anatole is a very important part of your life, and there will always be a sadness in your heart as to the tragic circumstances that physically took hiim from you. Hopefully, though, as time continues on your heart will be able to remember the joy of your beloved Anatole and the deep sorrow will not be quite the heavy burden.

Thank you so much for sharing your beloved Anatole with us, DLL. I hope life is treating you and all your family kindly. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, DLL, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing whenever possible.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Thank you