For the last 3 years, my precious kitty, Midnight, has been fighting a fungal infection called Cryptococcus. He was amazing in that he lived as long as he did, given that many cats and dogs do not survive the initial attack. Even the various Vets we I took him too were amazed, and couldn't figure out why or how he was able to live so long. He had a good life, eating, drinking, playing, cuddling - even during the bouts when the fungus limited his playfulness.

Over the years, my husband and I gave Midnight the best care, taking him to see expert Vets in this field. He was on fluconazole, two times a day, but over the last 3 months, even though he was on it, the fungal infection started creeping up little by little. And over the last week or so, it became more pronounced. But it wasn't until yesterday morning, that it came out full force. He went into violent seizures, foaming at the mouth, and those became more pronounced. It got so bad that I prayed that God would remove him from his misery. I ended up taking him to the Vet, so that they could stabilize him. They were able to stabilize him, and stop him from continued seizures, but the fungal infection had finally won out. I didn't want to put him down over the years because he was eating, playing and engaging in his environment most of the time, and he was responsive and obviously wanted to live. He got a lot of love and care from us, and he gave it back to us. But I could see over these last few months that it was creeping back, and I could sense that he was losing the battle.

At the Vets yesterday, they tried to resucitate him twice, when his heart stopped beating. But it was only because I told them my husband was on his way and wanted to be there. I kept praying to God for wisdom, and what I should do, even if it meant having him put to sleep to stop his pain. But I didn't want to do so unless I was certain he was truly on his way out. However, during the last few hours of his life yesterday, he was in such a bad state, that there was no doubt left in my mind that he was at the point of no return. God, in his grace and mercy, took him naturally, knowing how much I struggled with what I should do - in other words, what would be the best thing for Midnight. I knew yesterday, without a doubt, it was Midnight's time to go. It was so horrible seeing him in that state yesterday. He was making the most horrible, gutteral sounds, as he flailed about in the cat carrier. It's like he had lost his mind and he was going crazy. I can't get the images and sounds out of my mind. I've never seen this before in him or any other animal. It was so horrible. I was barely able to drive him to the Vets.

After my precious Midnight's heart stopped for the 3rd and last time, since I told them to stop resuscitating him, they then brought his lifeless body to me, wrapped in a blanket. My husband then got there a couple minutes later, and he sat with me in a private room, as I held Midnight and rocked him. I thanked God for taking him, seeing him in a calm state, no longer screaming and convulsing and making those horrid sounds. I kissed him goodbye.

I do know he's finally at peace, and his suffering has stopped. But I miss him terribly, and keep breaking down and crying. He was so lovable, gentle and affectionate. He was so playful and joyful, even though he suffered from the infection. He never bit us or clawed us, even when he wasn't feeling good. I loved this beautiful cat more than any other cat or animal I had. He was like my child. Even my husband, who can be stoic about his feelings, actually broke down crying when we came home and felt the emptiness in the house. I woke up last night for the first time, not having Midnight cuddled next to me under the covers and hearing him purr.

I'm just letting out my feelings pour out. I'm very emotional and everything in the house looks so empty without him. I felt I should check out this forum, and read some of the other postings, which have been helpful. I feel somewhat guilty, too, because a part of me is actually relieved that his struggle and suffering with this debilitating fungal infection has finally come to an end. In the past, there had been close calls in which I thought he would die, but he kept living, loving, and cuddling. Even though it's a relieve, God how I miss him. Once again, I'm crying as I see that he is truly gone. I feel in shock . . . almost like being in a dream.

Hi, Angelinda, plesae permit me to offer you my sincerest sympathies in the physical loss of your beloved Midnight. Losing a companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we are blessed with the privilege of their company.

Angelinda, please let me try to offer you some comfort, support, and encouragement in that what you are feeling is very normal deep grief - - very painful both emotionally and physically, yes - - still very normal. When our companions come into our hearts our lives are changed for the better. We live in a physically oriented world governed by the five senses of sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell. Our companions are totally dependent upon us for their every need, and every time they touch us and lick us they are physically imprinting on us so that they can distinguish us from other millions of people on this planet. We are their caregivers and when our companions have special medical challenges our bodies react to being diligent to their care by increasing levels of adrenalin in our bodies so that we can have the energy necessary to take care of them. When our companions precede us to the angels, the adrenalin levels literally "crash" and we go through a physical withdrawal - - which is one of the many reasons why we find ourselves feeling so fatigued during the deep grief journey. The longer the adrenalin has been flowing the bigger "crash" our bodies experience and the longer it takes for us to get our normal energy levels back. It is also normal to feel a relief - - a release - - when we know that our companions are no longer in physical pain and suffering - - that they are finally at peace. There is no shame in this, Angelinda - - it is NORMAL.

Unfortunately there is no easy way through this grief journey, Angelinda. This grief journey is one of adjustment that can only be made one day at a time, sometimes one moment at a time in your own way and in your own time. The good news is that the love bond you share with your beloved Midnight is eternal. It is not restricted to the physical laws of time and space. Your beloved Midnight's sweet Living Spirit is forever with you continuing to share your earthly journey just as she always has and always will. She is forever in your heart and your memories, Angelinda - - she is always a heartbeat close to you.

I know there are no adequate words in any language that can soothe the seering pain of loss that is in your heart. I can only hope the words I share with you will offer you some measure of comfort, support, encouragement, and hope as you travel your grief adjustment journey. One of the many things you need to remember is that you are not alone. 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.

Thank you so much for sharing your beloved Midnight with us, Angelinda. Perhaps sometime you will feel up to sharing a picture(s) of her with us - - but only when / if you want to. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Angelinda, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Angelinda

Here's all my strength to make it through today and tomorrow. I'm at work now but will write more when I get home. You did the right thing - no question about it. It's a supreme test of love - and you "passed" with flying colors.

Gretta's mom

Dear Angelinda

First let me say how wonderful Midnight is (not was). His grace and love shines through every word you have written about him. And how wonderful you and your husband are (not were) for giving Mr Midnight such a good life and doing everything - EVERYTHING - you could to fight against a very unusual disease. Thank you, too, for doing the hardest thing we're called to do this side of heaven - love our soul-mate enough to, with eyes wide open and KNOWING what's in store for us, set him free on his way back to the Perfect World from which he came - from which we all came and in which we will all one day be reunited.

Please try not to feel guilt at thanking God that Mr Midnight's suffering is over. How could you feel otherwise about a being you love so much? That doesn't mean you love him one bit less or miss him one bit less or wouldn't have wanted him to have stayed a long time with you - healthy. Yes, you're pretty much in the shock-and-awe period - like you've been shot in the heart with a high-powered rifle and are bleeding to death from the heart. Your body and brain are going into protective mode - you can only stand so much trauma and grief. All you can do is keep breathing and put one foot in front of the other - if that. Do whatever you feel like you need to do during these first few days and weeks of grief. You have an extra burden (not in the bad sense) in that you have children to care for and whose feelings are in just as much of shambles as yours are.

But, know, really KNOW, that Mr Midnight is NOT gone. He's NOT! He has only changed form - from a see-able, sense-able bodily form to a spirit-only form. He's still right there beside you, doing what he's always done - guiding your steps, watching over you, and, most important, loving and being loved by you - just the same as always. As Mother Moonbeam has so often ssaid, we humans live in a sensory world. if we don't see or hear or feel something, we day it's not there. But everyone whose life has been touched by a spitir-animal, a soul-mate knows that this is not true. We, too, have spirits (some call them souls) and we can connect with our beloved fur-children through this channel. Some people get "signs', a great many don't. But that doesn't make Mr Midnight's eternal existence any less real. Rest assured that wherever he was on earth and wherever he is now (the Perfect World) he can still feel you love for him and send his to you.

Please be gentle to yourselves these first few days and weeks. That's what mr midnight wants for you. Thank whoever made this world that He sent Mr Midnight to be yours, if only for a short while, and will cause us all to be reunited in a 'glorious day.'

In grief and gentleness,

Gretta's mom

Hi Angelinda,

I'm so sorry for your loss. I was so touched when was reading your story, I started to tear up. I also said a prayer for Midnight hope that is okay with you. You and your husband sound like such dedicated, kind and loving people. You gave Midnight the best life and you can be comforted by the fact that he had a loving beautiful home with you. He sounds like such a loving and beautiful presence.. I admire you and your husband's strength and courage.

This forum is a great place to come. People really understand and really care. I lost my beloved Gwen a cockatiel suddenly a few weeks ago. I am crying all the time and feeling such emptiness without her. Midnight was very lucky to have you, such a loving devoted person who never gave up on him, and sought the best treatment possible. God bless you and your family during this difficult time.

Sincerely,
Allison

Hi Moon Beam,

I want to thank you personally for your reply, which really helped me to see that what I'm feeling is normal deep grief. I've not been able to post anything since my original post, due to the numbness I initially felt. However, that numbness has faded, and now I've entered a different phase which is a combination of acceptance, depression and great loss. But at least I can express these feelings now. Your description of our physical bodies helped me to see the changes that occurred within me, such as the increasing levels of adrenalin and those literally crashing after going through physical withdrawal. It's as you said, that I needed those levels as Midnight's caretaker, and after he passed on, then I felt down, depressed and extremely tired.

You're right that there's no easy way through this grief journey, except getting through it one day at a time. I've been doing that, and I've been reading a lot of things on this site. All the comments to my post also helped, even though I couldn't respond right away. Perhaps that was shock, or even part of that numbness. But now I feel more able to respond, and it feels good to do so. I so loved what you said about the bond that Midnight and I sharing being eternal and not restricted to the physical laws of space and time. I had this type of bond with my dear Midnight - it was a bond that was not only mental & emotional, but also spiritual in the sense that I knew and understood his moods and feelings, as he did mine. I cannot quantify these feelings, but I just knew this intuitively.

Thank you Moon Beam for your thoughts and prayers, which I know reached me and helped me along the way of working through this grief. I tried uploading a pic of my Midnight on my profile, but I got an error message. I know that Midnight is always just that heartbeat away . . . through the memories and pictures I have of him. What's odd is just how empty the house feels without him. When he was here, alive with us, I could always sense and feel his presence. I don't feel it now, even though I wanted to feel it. However, I experience it whenever I look at his pictures, talk with my husband about Midnight's wonderful qualities, or close my eyes and remember how good he smelled and how soft his fur felt when I stroked it.

Peace and blessings to you, and thank you again for taking the time to respond. Your words were truly helpful to me. Angelinda

Hi Danny's Mom,

Thank you so much for your sympathies regarding Midnight. I want to also extend my sympathies on the loss of your Tina and her struggle against cancer. It does indeed wear one down, being a caregiver, and having to watch our precious babies struggle and lose their fight against disease. I think that is why I also felt relieved. I was so tired, after about 3 years of the ups and downs, and virtually feeling helpless as I watched Midnight lose the battle. As I know you did with your Tina.

Regarding Cryptococcus, like you I knew nothing about it until my kitty was diagnosed with it. It seems to be distributed globally now, although as you mentioned it is very present in tropical climates such as Australia & Africa. I live in California in the U.S., and there have been more outbreaks in dogs & cats - but mostly cats. That is correct that this fungus is present in bird droppings and soil. What is odd is that Midnight was an indoor-only cat, and never had access to places that would have pigeon droppings. The Vets we took him to were clueless as to how it obtained it. Also, the cats that usually contract it test positive for Feline Leukemia or FIV. He tested negative for these. As a matter of fact, he was tested for many other things, and his tests came back negative. The only thing that came out positive were his titers for Crypto. Thus he was put on anti-fungal medication, twice a day, which worked on and off. He had good days, and bad days, until the fungus had completely invaded and destroyed his CNS.

So you are correct that the fungus did indeed attack his central nervous system, and hence the convulsions. What really got to me, and still does, is that horrible sounds that emanated from him during the last 30 minutes of his life. Those sounds didn't quite sound like a cat, or human . . . but somewhere in between. And it was deep and gutteral. He flailed about uncontrollably in his box, as he made those sounds. I was fortunate enough to be able to move him into that box and transport him to the Vets before it got that bad. I was relieved when they were able to stabilize him and stop the seizures, and then shortly afterwards his heart stopped and he was at peace. I'm trying, still, to work through the sights and sounds. It was as if he had lost his mind. I'd never seen anything like this before.

You're right that the pain of the grief has really set in, especially since the numbness has worn off. I've been trying to take care of myself - eat, sleep and start up my exercise routine again. That helps, even though my body feels like lead, and I have lost my appetite. It's as if part of me has gone to sleep, and is slowly coming to grips with everything. I do have my husband and friends for support, and that has really helped. Mostly, though, this forum and yours and others replies, and comments of other people's grief, have helped me the most.

Thanks again . . . Angelinda

Dear Gretta's Mom,

Thank you so much for your response. I loved your reference to my kitty as "Mr. Midnight". That is so endearing and made me smile. What you said about giving Midnight a good live and doing everything possible to help Midnight fight this disease, really encouraged me. And yes, it was and is the hardest thing this side of heaven, loving our sweet little soul-mates and knowing when to set them free.

I was trying to determine when the right time would be to set him free. He still had what I'd call a very good quality of life, and he was loved and gave love. He responded to us all of the time, even when he was tired and sleepy. Most of the time, Midnight would sleep in the bed with us, and he would oftentimes snuggle up against me with his paw wrapped around me . . . or his paws pressed against my stomach or back. He would also lick my face, and make the cutest little piglet-type of sounds. Even on his last night before he passed, he jumped up on our bed and cuddled between us. He also sat on our night stand, in his cat bed, looking out the window.

His death, the next day, was actually quite unexpected. We knew he was losing the battle, but it seemed to be a slow, downward spiral. We didn't think he'd go that quickly. It's as if the dam broke lose, and he went down fast and furiously, peppered with non-stop seizures. I prayed and prayed for the right time over the last 2 weeks, wondering whether I should put him to sleep, or whether I should wait. I didn't want to put him down, while he was in a relatively good state, and cognizant and pain free. Anyway, I wasn't sure what I needed to do, until he went into those perpetual, violent seizures. At that point, there was no doubt in my mind, that it was his time. Had his heart not stopped beating at the Vets, I would have made the merciful choice to allow him to be put to sleep. But I didn't need to. And when I held his lifeless body in my arms, kissing his sweet face, I saw such peace for the first time, since his seizures started. I felt utter relief, although I also cried sporadically at the loss of my sweet baby.

So thank you for saying I need not feel guilty about feeling relief. I do - for him, and for myself. I so miss him, and even when he had his bad days, I miss giving him his sponge baths and brushing him and massaging him. He so loved that, and it made him feel so good. I miss his purring, and his meowing and his endearing looks. My husband misses him so much too. He misses Mr. Midnight's love for lying in the sunlight, and his heat-seeking tendencies, such as when he would sit in front of the heater, soaking up the heat . . . or in front of the fireplace, stretched out and oh-so-content.

I love what you said about him going to a perfect world, where we will one day be reunited. That made my eyes tear up, but it was tears of hope - of knowing that some day, it will all be made right. Your words helped me tremendously, in that these are words of a future that will be devoid of death, dying and disease. You told me to thank whoever made this world for the time I had with Mr. Midnight. I went ahead and thanked God that he sent Midnight to me, if only for a short while (he turned 7 years old last month) . . . and that during those years he gave me and my husband so much joy . . . even though he wasn't in perfect physical form. I also thanked God for taking him, when the time was right, and finally giving him peace and both of us resolution. I look forward to that glorious day when we will all be reunited. And I believe this with all my heart, soul and mind.

Thank you again Gretta's Mom. Your words were very comforting to me.

In gentleness as well . . . Angelinda

Hi Allison,

Thank you for your sympathy, and your prayer for Midnight. Yes, that is okay with me! I so appreciate the compassion and the love that I've found from your reply, as well as others in this forum. I feel safe saying anything I need to say, and that I won't be judged or have my feelings invalidated. So thank you so much for your thoughts, and your prayers. Yes, this is great forum to come to, and I'm so touched by everyone's care and sympathy for people that they don't even know.

I so appreciate what you said about Midnight having my husband and I giving Midnight the best life and a beautiful home. I'm so sorry about the loss of Gwen, your cockatiel. I had a Cockatiel we called "Bird", and he lived close to 18 years. I couldn't stop crying, either, after losing him. Our companion animals become so much a part of our daily lives and, when we lose them, it's as though we lose a big part of who we were. I didn't want to say this till now, but I actually miss Midnight more than some of my relatives I've lost through death. I hope that that doesn't come off the wrong way. I missed them too, but some of them I hadn't seen for a long time, and others weren't always so nice. With our companion animals, they are always there, and seem to love us unconditionally. They don't try to find faults in us, or put guilt trips on us. They just love us, and can't wait to see us. And whatever we do with them or for them, they appreciate wholeheartedly.

May God bless you as well as any family members who may be grieving the loss of Gwen. Thank you for your words and taking the time to respond . . . Angelinda

Hi Angelinda

Thank you for the wonderful response to some woefully inadequate words of consolation. However much it cuts our hearts in half, it is somewhat of a blessing when a loved animal "crashes". At least you KNOW then that it IS the time. You go into the crisis mode and stiffen your back and put your heart on hold for the hours it takes to ease the gentle one over into the Perfect World from which he or she came. My sister put me on to a new book called "I'll See You in Heaven," written by a Franciscan monk about the many Biblical and other religious references to being reunited with our spirit-animals (of course he didn't call the that) forever in heaven. I ordered it from Amazon .... and I'm still waiting to be "reunited" with the BOOK! I know it will be tremendously conforting to me - since, even though I've changed belief systems a lot since then, I was raised a very strict Catholic and sometimes wonder if I'm not putting my departed Gretta in the place of God. (The mind is an awful thing when it turns on you!). No, Angelinda, you do NOT have to feel guilty about Mr Midnight being, as my amazing vet said, "in a safe place now." If a maximally-scientifically trained vet can believe this, it's good enough for me.

It's always midnight somewhere, and wherever you are, at midnight, Mr Midnight gathers his "pack" (do cats have packs?) and tiptoes over to the love-ray sending center and sends you and your family some love-ryas to use the next day.

Thank you for being a friend.

Gretta's and Rufus's mom

Hi Greta's (and Rufus's) mom,

Your words of consolation were anything but inadequate. Those words helped me to see things in a different light, and gave me more comfort than you can imagine. I loved what you said: "It's always midnight somewhere, and wherever you are, at midnight, Mr Midnight gathers his "pack" (do cats have packs?) and tiptoes over to the love-ray sending center and sends you and your family some love-ryas to use the next day." I shared these words with my husband, and we both teared up and smiled. You hit it right on the mark, and that's why I was so touched by what you said. Mr. Midnight used to sometimes lie down in his cat bed on the night stand next to my bed, and look out the window . . . especially during moonlit evenings. He did that on the last night before he passed on, and he also cuddled and slept with us. It is a wonderful memory, and one I'll hold onto forever.

The book you mentioned "I'll see you in Heaven", sounds like a very good book to read. I will go ahead and order it on Amazon, since I know that the more I read about these things, the better I feel. I lol when you said that you're still waiting to be reunited with the BOOK! I also ordered another book that I saw listed in this forum in one of the other areas. It's called, "Cold noses at the Pearly Gates" by Gary Kurz. Like you, I'm also waiting to be reunited with this book! Hopefully, I'll get it today.

I know what you mean about feeling that you may be putting your precious departed Gretta in the place of God. I'd oftentimes wondered myself if I was doing that with Midnight. Or even with other people or things in my life. Whenever I'd felt, or feel like I am doing that, I then make my thoughts turn to God, asking for his comfort and his guidance. Ironically, it's when I do this, that I feel more at peace and even in control with my runaway emotions. I then get another feeling that things will turn out right. Also, I get comfort from you and others in this forum. You and the rest have so blessed me with your words of comfort, which I find to be more precious than gold.

Thank you again. Thank you for sharing, and thank you for caring.

Thank you too, for being a friend . . . Angelinda

"What's odd is just how empty the house feels without him. When he was here, alive with us, I could always sense and feel his presence. I don't feel it now, even though I wanted to feel it. However, I experience it whenever I look at his pictures, talk with my husband about Midnight's wonderful qualities, or close my eyes and remember how good he smelled and how soft his fur felt when I stroked it."


Hi, Angelinda, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. Yes, it never ceases to amaze me how deafening the sound of silence can be after a beloved companion is no longer physically with us. It can feel like even the structure of the house - - be it a cardboard box, a tent, an apartment, a modest single family unit, or a mansion - - is mourning the physical absence. This is yet another part of the grief adjustment journey. When our companions precede us to the angels every facet of our lives is changed. The entire structure of the family unit - - both emotionally and physically - - is changed, and we are faced with the enormously painful process of establishing a "new normal" that no longer includes the physical presence of our beloved companion. This is one of the many reasons why this grief adjustment journey can only be traveled one day at a time, sometimes one moment at a time.

It is quite normal for us to not feel our beloved companion's sweet Living Spirit with us during our deep grief because our hearts and lives are undergoing many major adjustments during this time. The good news is that you can continue to feel your beloved Midnight's connection with you when you look at his pictures, share your memories with your husband, and close your eyes and remember how good he smelled and how soft his fur felt when I stroked it. There are many ways our beloved companions continue to reassure us that they are forever with us, and I am so very happy you and your beloved Midnight share your treasured memories together. For when you speak of him, talk to him, and remember him he is listening intently to every word you say and is sharing the same memories with you.

Thank you so much for sharing your beloved Midnight with us, Angelinda. I hope today is treating you and your husband kindly. If you are continuing to have "technical difficulties" in posting a picture of your beloved Midnight, please do not hesistate to contact our wonderful L S Administrator. He is always willing to help us. Please know you and your husband are in my thoughts and prayers, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Hi Danny's Mom,

Thanks again for your kind words of sympathy, regarding having to witness those horrible convulsions in Midnight. No, we don't "usually" have plants in our house. Also, over the years, I made certain to child-proof our house in every way. I also made certain to read up on plants that could be poisonous to kitties. Thus Midnight didn't have any access to poisonous plants indoors, or even cleaning solutions that could have presented problems. Even with the plants we had, they were hanging ones and out of reach.

Regarding the air conditioner, that wouldn't be a source of contamination either. We hardly ever use it, but we have had it serviced for upkeep. In addition, we live in a very dry and relatively cold climate up in the mountains. There's hardly any humidity, which cuts down on mold, fungal and other infestations of that type. One thing we did do, on a few occasions, was drop Midnight off in a boarding facility when going on vacations. It was a top-of-the-notch facility, and the cats were all kept in one area in Condos. They could move about freely, in and out of their condos, but were not allowed outdoor access. I had wondered, too, if that may have been a factor, but I just don't know. I do know that my hubby and I never came down with the infection, and neither did my other cat that we had for 12 years. He, too, was put in the same boarding facility, and he was in the same house with us. Ironically, our last cat was an outdoor cat, and never came down with this fungal infection. It's a mystery, to say the least. But I guess it's just one of those things that I'm learning I'll probably not be able to solve. Even the Vets were stumped as to how he got it.

It is indeed the worse feeling, as you said, being so helpless in the face of pain, and not being able to do much for our beloved fur kids. btw . . . I love that term you used! I'm so sorry for the pain you endured as well, as with your Tina and having to watch and feel so helpless when she was ailing. I'm also sorry for the loss of your Danny whom I can see you miss so much.

Thank you again, Danny's Mom, for replying and also giving me words of comfort. It is so good to be here in the midst of such caring people as your self. Also, it's cathartic being able to write out a multitude of thoughts and feelings, and also read about others who are on this same journey . . . albeit a painful, gut-wrenching one.

{{Hugs}}, blessings and comfort to you . . . Angelinda

Hi Moon Beam,

Thank you again for your words of kindness, comfort and wisdom. It's as you said. There's this grief adjustment journey . . . and trying to get through it one day at a time . . . or even one second at a time. I keep telling myself to do that. In other words I'm trying not to look too much to the future, or get locked in the past. Those definitely are 2 time frames I have no control over. But I do have control, second by second, in the sense that if I just remain in the present, then I don't overload my mind, emotions and spirit with the immense sadness of the past, or the "what ifs" and fear of the future. I hope this is making sense. It's hard, sometimes, to just get out certain thoughts and feelings, and express those cogently. Especially since it can feel like a full-speed ahead roller coaster ride of grief, peppered with such anguish. But it does help me to slow down my racing thoughts, pray to God for clarity, and exist in the present moment, dealing with the loss from that angle.

Yes, it's as you said that even the structure of a house, regardless of the size or type, can feel like it's mourning the physical absence of our beloved companions. My husband and I noticed that again this morning. Even when our Midnight was at his weakest, lowest states, he still interacted with his environment and with us. There's this dead-silence now. What's unusual, which we also noticed, is how quite it is outside. We live in the mountains, and during the late Spring and through the Summer months, birds sing their melodic tunes at the crack of dawn . . . and squirrels and other wildlife frolic about. The next morning after Midnight died, and even over the last 6 days, there hasn't been any singing of birds, or even any movement of other wildlife in the early mornings. Even my husband noticed, and I didn't even bring it up. Coincidence? I have no idea. As a matter of fact, I cannot even understand why something like this would happen. It's not as if the world stopped moving. It still is moving, but it's so quiet . . . even outside of our house.

Thanks again for your prayers for me and my husband Moon Beam. I did share this with him, and he said "Thank you". I also shared some other posts and replies, and he is just so moved by the compassion of so many strangers. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, too. I can see you have a kind soul, a caring heart and lots of wisdom.

I finally figured out how to download a couple of pics. I downloaded a pic of Midnight to my profile, as well as another pic of him on the site that has some of my info.

Thank you again for being there. Blessings and peace to you as well . . . Angelinda

"What's unusual, which we also noticed, is how quite it is outside. We live in the mountains, and during the late Spring and through the Summer months, birds sing their melodic tunes at the crack of dawn . . . and squirrels and other wildlife frolic about. The next morning after Midnight died, and even over the last 6 days, there hasn't been any singing of birds, or even any movement of other wildlife in the early mornings."

Hi, Angelinda, thank you so much for sharing with us how you and your husband are doing. I know exactly what you are saying about the silence of the woodland residents. This, too, has happened with the passing of each of my beloved companions over the last 16 years when my beloved Samson, Holly, Eli, Oslo, and Abbygayle joined the angels. It is the woodland residents way of paying tribute to a precious soul who is no longer physically with us - - even when our beloved companions are "insdie" residents. Of particular note recently when my beloved Oslo joined the angels the woodland rabbits stopped coming into the yard, yet when Oslo was physically with us the rabbits would daily come in the morning and evening to visit and munch on the clover and dandelions in the yard - - even when Oslo was outside taking care of essentials or just enjoying his territory, for the rabbits knew he would not chase them or hurt them. It has been 2.5 years since Oslo joined the angels and just within the last couple of weeks there has been a single rabbit come into the yard in the evening a couple of times to munch on the dandelions. I have missed seeing the rabbits, and I think this bunny's visits is Oslo's way of letting me know that all is well.

Once again, Angelinda, thank you so much for sharing your beloved Midnight with us, Angelinda. I hope today is treating you and your husband kindly. Please know you and your husband are in my thoughts and prayers, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Hi Angelinda

Thank you so much for the wise words of advice for when one thinks you're putting someone in the place of God. Then, turn to God and ask Him for some guidance and blessing. I'm going to do that right now. Your words are EXACTLY right!

Thanks again.

Gretta's mom

"I know exactly what you are saying about the silence of the woodland residents. This, too, has happened with the passing of each of my beloved companions over the last 16 years when my beloved Samson, Holly, Eli, Oslo, and Abbygayle joined the angels. It is the woodland residents way of paying tribute to a precious soul who is no longer physically with us - - even when our beloved companions are "insdie" residents."

Thank you Moon Beam for sharing your own experience, in that you also felt the silence outside, when your beloved Samson, Holly, Eli, Oslo, and Abbygayle joined the angels. I wondered why the birds and other animals seemed to have grown quiet after Midnight's passing, and this gives me some insight. I never thought of it as the woodland residents paying tribute, and I like that. I've always thought that animals could see and feel things beyond the 5 senses, much more than humans. It's interesting, too, how over the last couple of weeks a single rabbit has been showing up in your yard. Especially since all the rabbits that used to show up in the mornings & evenings to eat the dandelions stopped doing that after Oslo's passing. I so loved your sharing of this.

Thank you again for your thoughts and prayers . . . Angelinda

Hi Greta's mom,

You are quite welcome! I'm glad that was helpful. May God continue to guide your steps and bring you comfort on your own journey through grief.

Blessings and love . . . Angelinda

P.S. I ordered the book you mentioned, "I'll see you in Heaven" (the Cat Lover's Addition) today through Amazon. I also received "Cold Noses at the Pearly Gates" by Gary Kurz in my mailbox a few hours ago. I started reading it, and it's already given me great insight and comfort.

My dearest Midnight,

It’s been exactly one week since you left this earth and left a big hole in my heart. I know it was undoubtedly your time to go, and I’m relieved you’re no longer suffering, but God how I miss you. Even the outdoor woodland critters have fallen silent, since your passing. You were dearly loved, by me and by your daddy. Your daddy tends to keep his emotions in check, but I know he misses you too . . . for almost everything we’ve talked about over this last week is in regard to you and the memories we have of you.

I first woke up this morning, remembering it has been 1 week since your departure to the Bridge they call “Rainbow” for our beloved companion. You didn’t seem sick at all on that day, one week ago. You were still eating, drinking water and were actually doing much better than ever. It seemed as though you were getting better, over the last 3 days, and we even thought you may have turned the corner again.

It was such a shock when, all of a sudden, you went into mild seizures. You started running back and forth through the house, and I tried comforting you. I even sang you the song I used to sing, whenever you were having a bad day. I sang a version of a doggie song to you that went like this: “How much is that Midnight in the window . . . the one with the waggaty tail . . . how much is that Midnight in the window . . . I do hope that kitty’s for sale.” That had the effect of calming you, initially, in that you let out a little meow, letting me know you could still detect my presence, but also letting me know that you were scared and confused.

Afterwards, your seizures started getting worse. They were almost non-stop, and I was beside myself, not knowing what to do. Your daddy still hadn’t come home, for he works far away. But he was on his way home, after I called him to let him know you had turned for the worse. But I knew I couldn’t wait for him any longer. I needed to get you into your cat box to not only protect you from the convulsions, but to also take you to the Vets so they could stop your seizures. I also needed to do this because I knew, deep in my heart, that the time had come. I prayed to God, asking him to please let me know when I needed to make that decision. And I knew I needed to take you to the Vets, not only so they could stabilize you to stop those horrid convulsions, but to also put you to sleep . . . since you had deteriorated so quickly and so violently. I was wracked with all kinds of emotions, trying to do what needed to be done, but also wracked with indecisiveness. It wasn’t until the phone rang, and I heard the Vet’s voice on the answering machine, that it broke me out of that state. She told me I needed to bring you in ASAP. She added that after reviewing your state of health over the last few years, and now this turn for the worse, it would probably be good to consider euthanizing you. I knew it was the right choice, but I also felt I was betraying you.

After talking with the Vet and hanging up the phone, I was able to get you into the cat cat box and into the car. But 5 minutes later, you went into even more violent seizures as we were driving, letting out these sounds that sounded guttural and terrifying. I’d never heard sounds like that from you, or any other cat or animal. I kept thinking that somehow you knew I was taking you to the Vets, and that you wouldn’t be coming back home. I felt that somehow I had betrayed you, even though I knew I needed to get you somewhere where they could at least stabilize you, and stop your seizures and thus your agony. I’m not even sure if you were in pain at that moment. It seemed from the sounds that emanated from the box, that you had lost your mind. As though you were already gone on a mental level. God how I cried and could hardly focus, as I was driving. I kept trying to talk and sing to you, but you could no longer be comforted. You were somewhere else, and I knew it was past the point of no return.

We finally arrived at the Vets, and they did stabilize you with oxygen, and mercifully your horrible seizures stopped. A Vet tech had also brought in the paperwork for permission to euthanize you. They, too, saw that you were not in a good state any longer. So that was another confirmation that I needed to do the right thing. So I did sign the paperwork, but then I told the Vet tech that I was still waiting for your daddy and wanted to wait for him to arrive, before going through with this. I told the Tech that it would take my husband about 10 minutes to get there, since he had just left a message on my cell phone. So they waited for a short while, until the Vet Tech came back into the private room where I sat, and told me that they had already tried resuscitating you twice when your heart stopped. The Tech asked me if the Vet should keep trying to do that, since I told them that your daddy was on his way. I said, “NO!”. I didn’t know that they were trying to do that, and I didn’t want you to suffer any longer.

As it stands, they did not need to put you to sleep. You passed on your own, and you were finally freed from that horrid fungal infection that had invaded your mind. The Vet then brought your lifeless body into the room, wrapped in a blanket, and she gently placed you in my arms. She was so kind and thoughtful, and gave me words of sympathy. When I saw you were no longer flailing about, and that you were still and at peace, a floodgate of tears came forth. I stared at your open eyes, that looked out into space, and I knew you were gone. I rocked you back and forth in my arms, all the long saying, “My baby is gone . . . my baby is gone”, over and over again. I felt relief and loss at the same time. A few minutes later, your daddy walked into the private room, and grieved your loss with me. I gently squeezed your little pads on your feet, which you used to love . . . and I petted your soft, furry tummy, which you used to love as well. I then held you close to my heart, for the last time, and kissed you goodbye.

We left the Vets, in a numb state, and then came back to an empty house. Your food and water dishes, your toys and your condos, and your sleeping blankets and beds were still in the house. It’s as if everything was the same, but these things would never experience your presence again. The world still went on, and it seemed that it shouldn’t. It seemed that the world should have stopped, even for a moment, and realized that a very special kitty – my Kitty Midnight – was no longer there.

Today, I am giving tribute to you my dear, precious Midnight. It’s been one week since you passed on to the heavenly realms . . . but I still feel such a deep hole in my heart at the fact that you’re no longer here. Even the wooded critters outside the house have been quiet and still . . . since your passing . . . giving tribute to your absence. You were like my baby and my child. I’d never had children, and you were the one who filled that void.

Out of all the kitties and animals I ever had reside with me, you were my favorite. You loved life and you loved living with us, even when you didn’t feel well. Other people saw your gentleness and your loving spirit, and they were drawn to you. Even people, who didn’t particularly like cats, would say how beautiful, loving and gentle you were.

I miss you so much today. I miss the way you would come up to me, and look up at me with those duel colored golden, green eyes. I miss your little snaggletooth that would stick out on the side of your mouth, whenever I reached down to pet you and you gazed up lovingly into my eyes. Or when you’d follow me into each room, letting me know you were there. Or when you’d run back and forth, and do your little martial arts flips, and let out a little meow.

I miss you so much today, my precious little one. I grieve the loss of your presence, but I also know that you’re now at peace and that you’re with the angels. That gives me a sense of peace as well, knowing that you’re once again restored to your full vigor.

I love you Midnight . . .

Hi, Angelinda, thank you so much for sharing with us how you and your husband are doing, and for sharing this beautiful love letter to your beloved Midnight with us. During the first year of our grief adjustment journey it seems like every minute of every day has it's own special "angel-versary", and each week, each month our hearts are forever aware that our beloved companion(s) are now with the angels.

"The world still went on, and it seemed that it shouldn’t. It seemed that the world should have stopped, even for a moment, and realized that a very special kitty – my Kitty Midnight – was no longer there. "

It never ceases to amaze me how time continues on in spite of the cruel reality that our lives have forever been changed - - that our beloved companion(s) are no longer with us. Life continues on - - errands get done, bills get paid, jobs are performed, etc., but with little meaning because the TRUE MEANING that guided our lives every day - - the physical presence of our beloved companion(s) - - is no longer physically present. I can feel the deep sorrow in your heart, Angelinda, in your deep grief journey. I know the chasm that has enveloped your heart and the deep seering pain that is piercing it with every breath you take.

I believe it is our valued forum friend Gretta's Mom who described our tears as not only being healing tears but also as being like diamonds - - the perfect jewels that reflect the beautiful rainbow prism of eternal love we share with our beloved companions. Angelina, please know that every tear you shed is being transformed into a precious diamond and your beloved Midnight is gathering each and every one into his paws which he will weave into your beautiful crown of glory which he will give to you when it is your appropriate time to join him in eternal joy.

And as you cry your healing tears, Angelinda, please know I am with you sharing your deepest sorrow and crying with you. I hope you can feel the comfort of me and all of our wonderful forum friends reaching out to you through cyberspace holding you through this time of deepest sorrow in your heart and life.

Thank you so much for sharing your beloved Midnight with us, Angelinda. I hope today is treating you and your husband kindly. Please know you and your husband are in my thoughts and prayers, that I look forward to knowing how you both are doing, and to sharing your treasured memories of your beloved Midnight.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Moon Beam, thank you so much for your thoughtful words. I just read your post to my husband, and his eyes teared up, especially where you said, "our tears as not only being healing tears but also as being like diamonds - - the perfect jewels that reflect the beautiful rainbow prism of eternal love we share with our beloved companions." That is the most beautiful and poignant thing I have ever heard (read).

My husband and I are still adjusting to things. Out of habit, we keep thinking we hear Midnight, meowing,eating or jumping on the bed. We know it's because we were so used to these things. We got in late last night, and we remembered how Midnight would be waiting at the door for us. But he wasn't there last night, and we both felt a deep void and emptiness, after entering the house. It's as you said, "During the first year of our grief adjustment journey it seems like every minute of every day has it's own special "angel-versary", and each week, each month our hearts are forever aware that our beloved companion(s) are now with the angels." Yes, I am indeed forever aware that Midnight is no longer here, but I know he is in Heaven and that gives me hope and peace.

Then again, I will be bombarded with a spiral of runaway emotions. One moment, I feel like I'm starting to embrace the fact that Midnight is truly gone and, then the next, I feel like there was some mistake and that he still is here. I know he's here, in the sense that we have memories and pictures of him, but then I wake up in the morning, expecting to see him again. But then realizing, he is truly gone. Deep down, I feel that things weren't supposed to be like this. Death and dying seem unnatural, in the scope of things. I know that there is much opinion and literature that death is part of living, and thus a natural process. But it just doesn't seem that way to me. The loss and separation of death is so excruciatingly painful and final on the surface . . . and it seems anything but natural.

I think, also, that the death of my sister and mother may have also exacerbated my grief. The anniversary of the death of my kid sister, which was before Midnight's death . . . and the anniversary of my mother's death, which will be this month on the 22nd, seem to have made things all the harder to cope with. What's even more confusing to me, is that I grieved the loss of Midnight even more than my mother and sister. This may make me seem like not a nice person, but I cannot help the way I feel. The relationship I had with my Midnight was much healthier and loving in many ways, but the relationships with family members were very strained. And thus maybe that's why I grieve my kitty's loss all the more. He never put me down and always accepted me as I was. He was grateful to see me, and he would lick my face and cuddle up with me. I gave love to him, and he gave it back, and it was so pure.

Anyway . . . I wasn't going to write as much, but it just flowed out again. Thank you again Moon Beam . . . and also the other people who have responded. I feel safe to say anything I need to say, and know I won't be judged, ridiculed or laughed at. I'm trying to make sense out of things and I know this is part of the grief adjustment journey you brought up. Knowing this helps me to understand that this is normal, and that many feelings and thoughts can crop up unexpectedly.

Blessings and peace . . . Angelinda

Hi, Angelinda, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you and your husband are doing. Please let me try to offer you some words of encouragement.

"My husband and I are still adjusting to things. Out of habit, we keep thinking we hear Midnight, meowing,eating or jumping on the bed. We know it's because we were so used to these things."

It is very normal for us to feel and hear the familiar sounds of our beloved companions. This is truly not your imagination. This is your beloved Midnight letting you know he is still close to you even though you cannot see or feel him. You truly are not losing your mind. Sometimes the visits come in other ways - - through visits of the woodland residents, perhaps. I hope you will find comfort in whatever methods your beloved Midnight chooses to let you know he is still close to you as you and your husband continue with your earthly journey.

"What's even more confusing to me, is that I grieved the loss of Midnight even more than my mother and sister. This may make me seem like not a nice person, but I cannot help the way I feel."

Angelinda, please let me try to reassure you that what you are feeling is very normal. Clinical professionals now recognize that the physical loss of a beloved companion is as painful, if not more so, as the loss of a human family member or friend. While our companions are with us, they give to us their unconditional love and undivided attention. We in turn surrender ourselves to them completely and without fear of rejection or judgment. Our relationships with our human family members, friends, acquaitances, co-workers, etc., is not the same. Human relationships on every level and every aspect have expectations, and when those expectations are not met - - for whatever reason - - then the relationship experiences disappointments. Sometimes these disappointments are trivial and easily overlooked, while repeated disappointments can bring a relationship to a point of turmoil and separation. The physical loss of a beloved companion does usually surface emotions from other experiences in our lives which bundle themselves into the roller coaster emotions we are already going through adjusting to the physical loss of our beloved companion. So please know that what you are feeling is very normal. And please let me try to reassure you that in time the roller coaster emotions will ease.

Thank you so much for sharing with us how you and your husband are doing, Angelinda, and for sharing your beloved Midnight with us. I hope today is treating you and your husband kindly, and that you both will have a very peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Midnight's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you and your husband are in my thoughts and prayers, and that I always look forward to sharing how you both are doing, and your treasured memories of your beloved Midnight.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Thank you both Moon Beam and Danny’s mom for your thoughtful and comforting responses.

Moon Beam, it is good to know that my husband & I are not losing our minds, and that it is normal to keep thinking we hear the familiar sounds of Midnight. What you said about the woodland residents visiting, has been a recurring theme. At first, they were quiet outside, but then the sounds of the birds and other wildlife started to come back over the last couple days. What’s unusual are the lizards outside, that will now approach both me and my husband, and actually follow us when we walk around outside. Also, there have been some owls outside, that have taken up residence on our driveway, of all places! They were here before Midnight died, but there were only 2 or 3. Now there are about half a dozen, and they make sounds all the night through - no doubt searching for prey. But it’s very comforting having these various animals make their appearances. It gives me a sense of peace, and it also makes me feel like I’m part of this magnificent creation. I’m also glad to know that Clinical professionals recognize that the physical loss of a beloved companion is as painful, if not more so, as the loss of a human family member or friend. These companions do indeed give their unconditional love and undivided attention, and they do not judge us or place huge expectations on us. Midnight was always there for me, and I for him, and there weren’t the disappointments that can occur with human relationships. Thanks for letting me know that all of this is normal, and that it is even recognized by Clinical professionals.

Danny’s mom, thanks for sharing that you also feel that death & dying seem so unnatural. Someone else also shared, recently, that death was not part of God’s plan. I reflected on this, and went back and read the Book of Genesis in the Bible. Yes, we humans and animals were supposed to live forever! When God initially created everything, including animals, it was considered good – until humans messed up things, making themselves equal to God. I’m looking forward to that day when God will make things right again . . . and. as you said, there will be no more mourning, crying, nor death. It’s hard, sometimes, to be stuck here and have to muddle through life, especially after losing the ones we love . . . such as our furry, loving companions.

Thanks also, Danny's mom, for sharing about your own strained relationships with family members. And no, our beloved companions never put us down. I can relate to the pain you shared, about it being so intense and overwhelming, when your precious Danny died last December. And that wasn’t that long after you lost your Tina. I’ve been told by various family members, as you were told by your brother, that I shouldn’t have gotten so attached to Midnight. And that he was “only a cat”. One family member even said, “so was it worth it?”. What she meant, specifically, was: Was it worth being his caretaker for almost 3 years, as he fought the fungal infection. I said, “Yes it was”. And I added, “It was worth every minute, loving Midnight and taking care of him, and feeling his unconditional love, even when he had his bad days”. That same family member just rolled her eyes and shook her head. So Danny’s mom, I do understand how hurtful words from other people can be. I’ve even been told by some other family members that they hate cats because they think cats are sneaky and evil. I just said, “It’s not animals that are that way, but oftentimes humans can be that way.” Of course, my comment annoyed the people who had said that. It never ceases to amaze me how animals can be accused of being malicious or evil, especially cats and specifically black cats. My Midnight was a beautiful, loving black cat with the most gentlest disposition, and there was not an ounce of badness in him. Like your brother, I have certain family members who don’t like cats at all. (By the way, I didn’t know Adolph Hitler and Napoleon hated cats. That is interesting to know.) Thanks again for your kind words, such as my seeing Midnight again one day in Heaven, and never having to part with him again. Today, it’s been exactly 2 weeks since his passing. I’m on my break at work, and I was just thinking about how I will dread walking into my house afterwards, and experiencing his absence. My emotions are more in check now, but I still feel a deep, wrenching pain in my gut at his loss. However, this forum and reading the feelings and thoughts of other people has been so comforting, and has helped me work out a lot of things.

Thank you Danny's Mom for sharing that poignant, moving poem. I just read it and it made me cry because it symbolically expresses everything I feel after losing my precious Midnight. I also shared it with my husband and he didn't want to talk, for fear he may lose it and cry. His eyes looked glassy, so I know he was moved as well. We were just talking about our Midnight during dinner, and remembering all the things we loved about him.

Thank you for validating my feelings, too, regarding family members. I'm glad to hear that there are other people who love black cats too! I didn't know that the black cats oftentimes get overlooked in shelters. Now that we're on that subject, I have to admit that I checked out one of the animal shelters online that is located near to where I live. I looked at a number of pictures of 2-4 month old kittens waiting, for "forever homes". I adopted Midnight from a rescue organization too, and I was thinking that I may want to adopt again. Well . . . speaking of black cats, there was the sweetest looking one displayed on that website, and this one is a female black cat. It's not that I'm trying to replace Midnight, for he will always have a special place in my heart, and all cats (just like other animals, and just like people), have different personalities. But this black female cat just looked so adorable, and she had the most beautiful light green eyes. I also saw other beautiful cats on their website, that were various colors and breeds, and there was one that looked like a miniature baby tiger. They were ALL so cute, and they had that "Love Me" look on their faces.

But I'm wondering if it's too soon to think about another kitty. Like I said, I love Midnight, and he will always have that special place in my heart, but I can see there are so many other kitties that have been rescued and are in need of placement in homes. I'm just sort of letting my thoughts flow on this, and just don't want to be too hasty. I'm not certain how long one should wait before adopting another fur baby.

Thank you for agreeing that it was worth it 100% to take care of Midnight for 3 years, and that that was a loving thing to do. It was really hard, at times, because it oftentimes felt like a Roller Coaster ride. When he would show improvement, I would feel so elated. But whenever he showed the debilitating effects of the infection, I would feel so depressed and sad. It was very tough, never knowing if he would go downhill, or if he would pull out. I think Moon Beam mentioned that that is what is known as anticipatory grief. I knew it was just a matter of time, for each time the infection came back, his symptoms were worse. Thus I didn't know how many years I had with him. It wore me down, the more time went by . . . but I couldn't just give up on him. I did everything to make him feel comfortable and loved. And I cherished the time I had with him all the more.

I know you mentioned you also cherished the time when you were taking care of your precious Tina when she was wasting away. What you said struck a chord with me. You said that when we take care of our sick and dying animals, it's a way of displaying the love of God. With my husband and I, when we took care of our baby, that brought all of us closer together. We were a family. It made that bond of love all the more stronger between us. Bless you Danny's mom for taking such good care of your beloved Tina as well - as when she was so ill and was wasting away. It takes so much out of you, having to see your little one suffer and feeling so helpless. I know that it was very difficult for you when you had to witness this, but I also know that it made your baby feel loved and comforted.

Hi, Angelinda, thank you so much for sharing with us how you and your husband are doing. Please let me try to offer you some words of encouragement about adotping a new furchild.

There is no "right" or "wrong" time to adopt a new furchiid. In fact, your beloved Midnight is probably guiding your and your new furchild's paths right now to the moment when you will meet and will "know" it is totally right. This may happen with a stray who shows up on your doorstep, through a friend, through your veterinary practitioner, or a rescue shelter. I firmly believe this because I have experienced it firsthand, as has DannysMom, Tracy, and many of our forum friends. The best guidance you can follow is your heart, Angelinda. It will let you know when you are ready to embrace a new companion into your heart and home.

Many years ago when I was a teenager a family member "dumped" her beautiful black mixed Persian cat at home, and this beautiful little girl and I formed a bond that was very special and continues on to this day even though she has been with the angels now for over 30 years. It truly does not matter how much time passes in our earthly journey, Angelinda, or how many precoius new companions we share our lives with. Each companion has his / her own special place in our hearts and memories for all eternity.

Thank you so much for sharing with us how you and your husband are doing, Angelinda, and for sharing your beloved Midnight with us. I hope today is treating you and your husband kindly, and that you both will have a very peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Midnight's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you and your husband are in my thoughts and prayers, and that I always look forward to sharing how you both are doing, and your treasured memories of your beloved Midnight.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

It’s been a while since I’ve posted on this forum, but I felt moved to do so today. Today is the 2-month anniversary of the death of my precious Midnight. Over the last week, I’ve been thinking so much about him, and have been looking at a lot of his pictures – still pics and videos. I miss him so much. I keep remembering how happy he was to see us whenever we’d come home. Even though it’s been 2 months, I still feel such an empty space in my heart.

I want to thank you Moon Beam and Danny’s Mom for your kinds words, as always. Thank you also, Moon Beam, for letting me know that there’s never a right or wrong time to adopt another furchild. Our new baby, Ruby, has been such a blessing to us, and she has helped to take the edge off of the loss we feel of our Midnight. We’ve been talking about him more over the last few days, and I think it’s because the anniversary had been approaching. Interestingly, Ruby was able to sleep with us in our bedroom all through the night – last night – without jumping, stirring and keeping us up. For the most part, we’ve needed to keep her outside our bedroom, so as to get sleep. But she seemed ready to be with us last night, and as I cried in the middle of the night – remembering and missing Midnight’s soft, warm body . . . and how he used to cuddle next to me and drape his paws over my neck and face, Ruby did the same, and started licking the tears on my face. It’s as though part of Midnight was there, again, but yet it was Ruby – and her presence and actions were balm to the pain I felt in my heart and spirit. I just held her, stroked her and kissed her little face. She’s now 16 weeks old, and she’s getting more and more beautiful and affectionate the older she gets. And certain things she does also remind me of our precious Midnight. Ruby and Midnight are different, but yet they are also similar in some ways.

Thank you Danny’s Mom, too, for remembering Midnight’s 1-month anniversary – a month ago. I hadn’t read this till now, since I haven’t been on here for a while. I appreciate all your kind and thoughtful words.

I just am feeling an even greater loss, it seems, than I did a month ago. I don’t know why, either. I thought I was doing alright. And then I go to the store and buy a toy for Ruby, and remember how I would buy certain things for Midnight. Also, I will do a certain activity, and remember that Midnight is no longer alive, as he was when I did certain things – like hike a certain trail, or drive by a certain area or even eat a certain entree at a diner that I hadn't had since he died. I don’t understand why this happens, and why it’s happening more now than it did a month ago. I just feel such a heavy weight on my heart. The death of our furchildren cuts so deep. One moment, I’ll be laughing at our new furchild Ruby’s rambunctious antics, and the next moment I’ll think about Midnight and start crying. Also, I started crying at work, while sitting at my desk, and then needed to go to the restroom and hang out there until I got my composure. I also felt a lot of anger, and didn't know why I did.

It’s been a rough day, but what made it a more bearable was when I got home, and Ruby was waiting for me. I picked her up, and she started licking my chin and face, and snuggled into my bosom. She smelled so good to me, and her purrs soothed the loss and emptiness I felt today in my heart. But God how I still miss my Midnight. He also greeted me whenever I came home. It’s bittersweet – that’s the best way I can describe these feelings. I feel joy and the sweetness of Ruby’s presence, but yet feel such sadness and heaviness in my heart, remembering my precious Midnight today.

I have to agree about death seeming so unnatural. I hate it when people say "it's a part of life" to me when I'm grieving.


And Black cats are the best. "Pook" my 19 year old black beauty passed away in March. She was the smartest cat I have ever known. So proud, she was.

Hi, Angelinda, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing, and your and your beloved Midnight's 2-month angel-versary. As DannysMom has so comfortingly shared with you, this grief adjustment journey has many ups and downs, twists and turns, and turnarounds. One of our forum friend's has a topic titled "Just when I think I'm doing okay" (Cheryl2), she shares the emotional roller coaster ride of the grief journey we go through. As the shock of the trauma of losing our beloved companion's physical presence eases, we are faced with a "new awareness" of how deeply this trauma impacts our hearts and lives. It's like losing the petals of a beautiful flower - - one by one - - until only the stem and seed pod are left. In our grief journey, the petals are the layers of grief - - the stem is the eternal love bond that continues between us and our beloved companions - - the eternal love that is forever in our hearts and our memories - - the blessing of our beloved companion's sweet Living Spirit always and forever a heartbeat close to us. The seed pod is the basis of a "new beginning" - - when our deep grief has eased and we begin to feel a new strength in facing the days of our continued earthly journey - - the beginnings of a renewed purpose nourished through the comfort, support, encouragement and hope received and shared with those who truly know the deep sorrow we have experienced.

Although you love your precious Ruby with all your heart, your beloved Midnight will ALWAYS have his own special place in your heart and life. It is not uncommon for our companions who share our earthly journey to show some of the same behaviors and characteristics of our companions who are now with the angels - - for they are gently guiding our new companions to bring a new joy to our hearts.

Angelinda, I hope today is treating you, your husband, and your precious Ruby are doing, and thank you so much for sharing your beloved Midnight with us. I hope you will have a very peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Midnight's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you, your husband, and Ruby are in my thoughts and prayers, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Thank you Inessence, Danny's Mom and Moon Beam for your words. Inessence, I'm so sorry for the loss of your Pook back in March, who sounds like she was a smart and loving cat. I, too, don't like to hear "it's part of life" when I'm grieving a loss. Moon Beam, what you said really spoke to me: "Although you love your precious Ruby with all your heart, your beloved Midnight will ALWAYS have his own special place in your heart and life. It is not uncommon for our companions who share our earthly journey to show some of the same behaviors and characteristics of our companions who are now with the angels - - for they are gently guiding our new companions to bring a new joy to our hearts." The other day, my husband saw Ruby doing another similar thing that only Midnight did, and he said that he thinks the spirit of Midnight is once again behind her steps! Moon Beam, I will be certain to read Cheryl2's topic,"Just when I think I'm doing Okay", where she shares the emotional roller coaster ride of the grief journey we go through. And Danny's Mom, I appreciate your kind words about Midnight being so handsome. He was indeed a handsome cat and had a sort of suave and debonair type of demeanor, mixed in with his loving, affectionate ways. It's good to know these twists and turns are normal, especially since with Midnight . . .it seems like was one of the greatest losses I've ever experienced which has cut into my heart very deeply. Thank you all for your words which have helped me tremendously.

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted here, but as Christmas is almost around the corner, I felt the sting of loss of my precious kitty Midnight, who went to join the Angels about 1 ½ years ago. As was during this time last year, my husband and I have missed Midnight’s physical, loving presence, and the way he unwrapped his little presents that were comprised of his favorite treats and kibbles. We now have Ruby, our new family member, who is a joy and blessing to us as well! She is also excited about the season, and she loves the wrapping paper and tearing into it with unfettered determination – with or without the treats and kibbles!

I will never forget my beautiful, handsome boy Midnight, and I miss him especially now during this time of year. But Ruby has also brought us immeasurable joy. She is such a beautiful girl, whom I know Midnight’s Loving Spirit approves of wholeheartedly.

Because of this wonderful forum, I was able to express the loss of my precious boy, and also read the countless posts from others, who helped with my journey of healing . . . which I am still traveling, albeit in a different way. I still remember the kindness of people on this forum who walked similar paths of loss and grief. And this I’m truly grateful for, as I enter the Christmas season in memory of my Beloved Midnight, as well as in celebration of my Precious Ruby.

I want to especially thank Moon Beam, who gave me such vital words of wisdom, understanding, love, compassion and genuine concern. This gave me the courage to face and grieve the loss of my Midnight, and know there was hope in a future, even without his physical presence. The hope that one day, the crushing, searing pain would subside, and that I would enter another stage, where the pain wasn’t as intense and out of control. The pain of loss is still there but, as time has gone by, I’ve processed that pain and can now look at Midnight’s pictures and smile, remembering and treasuring the time we had on this earth together. I can actually feel a sense of joy, when I remember his loving ways, and how he enjoyed his life with us, and we with him.

I want to thank everyone on this forum this holiday season for expressing your own journeys of grief. It is so wonderful to have a forum like this, where we know we are safe to grieve our precious fur children, without fear of ridicule or rejection. And to know that we can express this grief for however long we need to, without worrying about whether people will tell us to just move on . . . or that they’re “just animals”. As we all know, our precious companions are not “just animals”. They were and will forever continue to be an integral part of our souls, hearts and minds, and nothing will ever change that . . . on this earth or in Heaven.

May God bless you all this Holiday season, and may you all find current and continued comfort, hope and healing in this forum . . . as you talk about your precious companions and grieve their losses.

Angelinda

Job 12:7-10
“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you.
Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this?
In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind."

Hi, Angelinda, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. No matter how much time passes, there will continue to be times when our arms will ache to hold our beloved companions just one more minute, one more hour, one more day - - one more lifetime. This is a part of what eternal love is, - - for it doesn't matter how much time passes in our earthly journey - - our beloved companions who are with the angels are always and forever a part of us - - they are always and forever in our hearts and memories - - they are always and forever a heartbeat close to us.

And it is important for you to remember there are no "expiration dates" here - - we are here for you for as long and as often as you need - - and want - - to come.

I am so very glad to share your precious Ruby with you, and to know she is thriving with your loving care. And there is no doubt whatsoever that your beloved Midnight is gently guiding her, watching over her in delight of having a baby sister bringing happiness to his Forever Mom and Dad.

I am also very glad I have been able to help you through your deepest sorrow, Angelinda. I do know oh so well from first hand experience the deep sorrow of being physically separated from beloved companions. If my experiences can help you, and others who come here, then my experiences will have meaning.

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

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam