It's been exactly two years since Minnie Pie up and died in my arms (*only* 2 years?) and I miss her all the time.Her demise came hard and fast and I suffered it.
Below serves as a tribute to her, that loss and a record I sent around to a small number of family and understanding friends.
Not everyone gets how the death of a companion animal can affect you, so I was very specific to whom I emailed those raw words wrought with emotion and shock.
The last thing someone who just lost a beloved member of the family wants to hear is a dismissive, flip and unsympathetic response ("It was *only* a cat...")
I found getting my feelings down in written form were not only therapeutic, but now years on help to honor how her brief life in mine made an impact.
After receiving this, one friend said it was "agonizing to read" while another wasn't able to make it far at all.
Ultimately, it's for me and Pie, but time has tempered the pain and I'm ready to share with a larger audience the story of one little Beastie since gone.
SSS 1/3/14
To answer some questions, and to help my process, below are my -3- stages of loss, at least for now.
The first is a c/p of an email I numbly sent to a handful of family >24 hrs. after the fact.
The second part consists mainly of stream of consciousness fragments mostly for CAM the following day, when the horrible reality of the situation kept replaying its impossible conclusion in my psyche.
Lastly, is an attempt at some peace and resolve.
l.
Looks like I'll be spending that birthday money not on something fun, but on cremating Minnie Pie.
Yesterday afternoon, as I was cleaning up from the holidays, I heard an unusual and loud scream from the bedroom.
I went to uncatch her claws from the duvet and then she went limp in my hands.
Just like that- here one minute, then gone in a flash.
Having absolutely no idea what was wrong or how to help,
I rushed her into the kitchen and tried to figure out what had happened, was she choking? Eaten anything poisonous?
I even tried to resuscitate her, but nothing worked.
She was just dead.
Not considering a necropsy, we can only guess it was some sort of heart ailment.
Both her mother and many siblings were diagnosed with murmurs when we took them all in for post-natal checkups, but from what I've read, that doesn't imply an automatic death sentence.
She would have been 9 yrs. in March.
She was the fun, spunky one who harbored no ill will.
She had quirky traits and vocals and was always cuddly.
CAM had been so tickled when they were all born so that he could choose which one to bring home and raise.
Having a pet from that early on is rare.
And because we have no human children, these are our family.
We love and treat them as such, dote on and spoil them and revel in their antics; we observe their unique personalities and interactions with each other, the dog and of course, us.
We talk about and to them endlessly.
There's a social dance in our home between all these beings and now one important member of that unit is gone away forever.
Though I suggested burial in our yard, the first we've ever had together, or period, CAM didn't feel he could dig a hole in the cold ground and put her into it.
He didn't want to see a grave every time he went outside.
So we made difficult calls and an even harder trip to the only facility in town last night.
We are inconsolable and still spinning with shock.
-SSS
lI.
I am so sad. And measuring everything today in terms of yesterday.
This time yesterday she was still curled up in the pink blanket; she won't be dead for 4 more hours.
I just don't want to face the day.
I wouldn't even see her for the most part because she was always sleeping in my bed- which is why I could never make it until very late in the day.
I just can't believe the light in that pile of energy is extinguished,
It's like some claw out of another dimension has ripped me from throat to stomach, exposing every raw nerve and emotion.
And I know that nothing but time's going to ease the pain of this heartsick feeling.
I wasn't done with her yet, we had so much more living, fun and sharing.
She was just a baby.
That's what makes it so hard; she got slighted time on Earth with us, and vise versa.
Minnie was always the first- the first to get up and go, play, climb the curtains, stairs, go into heat, etc. Just a little votive candle.
That helpless feeling watching such a bright, rambunctious life vanish in an instant.
I don't know if it was that one article or another, but a quote said, we just can't sit around waiting for our cats to die.
I agree with this and what you said several times yesterday about giving them a good life, love, shelter, attention, food, safety and more love.
They have all that.
She had that.
She had a good life and I hope she knew it.
I just wish it'd lasted longer than it did.
She was such a nifty little being and I'm glad I got to hang out with her.
I just wish it'd been longer.
It has been a miserable day.
Going thru' the motions of continuing on. It's so odd to do that. I felt the same way when N died. That his history stopped on that day, all memories frozen, never again to make any more. I feel the same way this time around. We all keep going on, living, aging, but that's the end of my poor. little Pie.
I'm washing a food bowl she'll never again eat from.
Vacuuming up her last hairs.
And so on.
Now she only lives in hearts and minds,
Being in bed is the hardest for me.
Both at night and in the morning since that's where all of our special alone time was and of course where she drew her final breath.
I miss her more at night than at any other time, because we had a sleep routine and she was the best (and really only) under-cover cuddler of all.
MY bed, which she loved and went to for respite was where she took her last terrifying breath.
I'm still so very sad.
I'm sick with loss.
I keep reliving the terror of the moment over and over and its impossible results.
Even acknowledging that there was absolutely nothing I could have done for her and now not being there to help her thru' the transition; it makes my soul ache.
Don't correct me, I know it's unreasonable, but I feel *responsible* to and for her and that I wasn't able to stop it or help her transition and find kind souls to attend to her wherever she's gone is crushing me.
Despite how awful and miserable her last living moments were (which will forever haunt me), I am at least glad I was there at the end, so she could hear my voice and feel my arms around her, trying to protect her from what was happening.
My actions probably weren't very comforting (lots of panic and crying out) but at least my voice and arms were familiar,
It's all I have to go on now.
I didn't realize I had so many tears in me.
My sharp pains have given way to a dull ache, but I still seem to have an unlimited supply of tears.
It's like when you've got the flu and you're all sweaty, uncomfortable and doubled over in pain.
Then it just switches to tired, worn out, beaten down sick.
I know how this grief thing works.
It's just extra bad because it's just so fucking unfair.
(3-18-03 - 1-3-12)
lll.
More than anything, I couldn't shake the feeling that Minnie was stuck somewhere between places, scared and alone.
It was an oppressively haunting hurt which just added to the pain of the situation.
I felt such an overwhelming sense of responsibility for her safety and well-being as much now as I always had in life.
She trusted me to fulfill these basic needs and I felt as if I was failing her all over again.
I'd been unable to save her from this terror-filled and premature death and now I was incapable of delivering her to the better beyond.
It made the grief even heavier and more frustrating.
So I called on those who had gone before and asked them to guide Pie to her place of rest and comfort.
I wasn't sure if she would recognize or think to search out her mother (Momma B.) or if any of my own people would know how to find her.
Then like a thunderbolt- it occurred to me that Nellis knew Minnie very well and I could count on him to honor my request.
I'm sure now that he did.
More so, it seems he enlisted others to assist.
And this is why I believe it to be true:
Here we get lots of rain while the sun is also peeking out, yet there is rarely a rainbow, if ever, but we always look for one anyway.
As I headed into town still very much feeling glum and ineffectual Thursday afternoon to meet old co-workers for dinner, at my turn-off, a faint and soft-focused color spectrum emerged in the distance.
It was stubby and didn't reach too far up from the horizon.
As I continued on, I kept straining to see it again, and did randomly.
However, it was at Fern Ridge spillway, my favorite spot on that drive, the skies opened up and a huge, bright arc made its way into the water where the birds rest.
I pulled off, gasped, sobbed and thanked all who helped build that sign I so desperately needed.
I knew Pie couldn't have done it on her own, but everyone knew how important it was to get to her and to show me that everything was going to be OK.
As I continued on, the rainbow slowly shrank away and when I made the final turn, it was barely visible in my rear-view mirror.
The direction in which I was headed had cleared up; the sun was out and the skies blue with little, puffy white clouds.
THE Rainbow Bridge!
The message couldn't have been more obvious: she was well, I could go on, we'd both be fine, and will one day see each other again.
The second part consists mainly of stream of consciousness fragments mostly for CAM the following day, when the horrible reality of the situation kept replaying its impossible conclusion in my psyche.
Lastly, is an attempt at some peace and resolve.
l.
Looks like I'll be spending that birthday money not on something fun, but on cremating Minnie Pie.
Yesterday afternoon, as I was cleaning up from the holidays, I heard an unusual and loud scream from the bedroom.
I went to uncatch her claws from the duvet and then she went limp in my hands.
Just like that- here one minute, then gone in a flash.
Having absolutely no idea what was wrong or how to help,
I rushed her into the kitchen and tried to figure out what had happened, was she choking? Eaten anything poisonous?
I even tried to resuscitate her, but nothing worked.
She was just dead.
Not considering a necropsy, we can only guess it was some sort of heart ailment.
Both her mother and many siblings were diagnosed with murmurs when we took them all in for post-natal checkups, but from what I've read, that doesn't imply an automatic death sentence.
She would have been 9 yrs. in March.
She was the fun, spunky one who harbored no ill will.
She had quirky traits and vocals and was always cuddly.
CAM had been so tickled when they were all born so that he could choose which one to bring home and raise.
And because we have no human children, these are our family.
We love and treat them as such, dote on and spoil them and revel in their antics; we observe their unique personalities and interactions with each other, the dog and of course, us.
We talk about and to them endlessly.
There's a social dance in our home between all these beings and now one important member of that unit is gone away forever.
Though I suggested burial in our yard, the first we've ever had together, or period, CAM didn't feel he could dig a hole in the cold ground and put her into it.
He didn't want to see a grave every time he went outside.
So we made difficult calls and an even harder trip to the only facility in town last night.
We are inconsolable and still spinning with shock.
-SSS
lI.
I am so sad. And measuring everything today in terms of yesterday.
This time yesterday she was still curled up in the pink blanket; she won't be dead for 4 more hours.
I just don't want to face the day.
I wouldn't even see her for the most part because she was always sleeping in my bed- which is why I could never make it until very late in the day.
I just can't believe the light in that pile of energy is extinguished,
It's like some claw out of another dimension has ripped me from throat to stomach, exposing every raw nerve and emotion.
And I know that nothing but time's going to ease the pain of this heartsick feeling.
I wasn't done with her yet, we had so much more living, fun and sharing.
She was just a baby.
That's what makes it so hard; she got slighted time on Earth with us, and vise versa.
Minnie was always the first- the first to get up and go, play, climb the curtains, stairs, go into heat, etc. Just a little votive candle.
That helpless feeling watching such a bright, rambunctious life vanish in an instant.
I don't know if it was that one article or another, but a quote said, we just can't sit around waiting for our cats to die.
I agree with this and what you said several times yesterday about giving them a good life, love, shelter, attention, food, safety and more love.
They have all that.
She had that.
She had a good life and I hope she knew it.
I just wish it'd lasted longer than it did.
She was such a nifty little being and I'm glad I got to hang out with her.
I just wish it'd been longer.
It has been a miserable day.
I hesitate to share with many others b/c they just wave it off as "only a cat."
I can't handle the flip dismissal at this time; my grief is immeasurable.Going thru' the motions of continuing on. It's so odd to do that. I felt the same way when N died. That his history stopped on that day, all memories frozen, never again to make any more. I feel the same way this time around. We all keep going on, living, aging, but that's the end of my poor. little Pie.
I'm washing a food bowl she'll never again eat from.
Vacuuming up her last hairs.
And so on.
Now she only lives in hearts and minds,
Being in bed is the hardest for me.
Both at night and in the morning since that's where all of our special alone time was and of course where she drew her final breath.
I miss her more at night than at any other time, because we had a sleep routine and she was the best (and really only) under-cover cuddler of all.
MY bed, which she loved and went to for respite was where she took her last terrifying breath.
I'm still so very sad.
I'm sick with loss.
I keep reliving the terror of the moment over and over and its impossible results.
Even acknowledging that there was absolutely nothing I could have done for her and now not being there to help her thru' the transition; it makes my soul ache.
Don't correct me, I know it's unreasonable, but I feel *responsible* to and for her and that I wasn't able to stop it or help her transition and find kind souls to attend to her wherever she's gone is crushing me.
Despite how awful and miserable her last living moments were (which will forever haunt me), I am at least glad I was there at the end, so she could hear my voice and feel my arms around her, trying to protect her from what was happening.
My actions probably weren't very comforting (lots of panic and crying out) but at least my voice and arms were familiar,
It's all I have to go on now.
I didn't realize I had so many tears in me.
My sharp pains have given way to a dull ache, but I still seem to have an unlimited supply of tears.
It's like when you've got the flu and you're all sweaty, uncomfortable and doubled over in pain.
Then it just switches to tired, worn out, beaten down sick.
I know how this grief thing works.
It's just extra bad because it's just so fucking unfair.
lll.
More than anything, I couldn't shake the feeling that Minnie was stuck somewhere between places, scared and alone.
It was an oppressively haunting hurt which just added to the pain of the situation.
I felt such an overwhelming sense of responsibility for her safety and well-being as much now as I always had in life.
She trusted me to fulfill these basic needs and I felt as if I was failing her all over again.
I'd been unable to save her from this terror-filled and premature death and now I was incapable of delivering her to the better beyond.
It made the grief even heavier and more frustrating.
So I called on those who had gone before and asked them to guide Pie to her place of rest and comfort.
I wasn't sure if she would recognize or think to search out her mother (Momma B.) or if any of my own people would know how to find her.
Then like a thunderbolt- it occurred to me that Nellis knew Minnie very well and I could count on him to honor my request.
I'm sure now that he did.
More so, it seems he enlisted others to assist.
And this is why I believe it to be true:
Here we get lots of rain while the sun is also peeking out, yet there is rarely a rainbow, if ever, but we always look for one anyway.
As I headed into town still very much feeling glum and ineffectual Thursday afternoon to meet old co-workers for dinner, at my turn-off, a faint and soft-focused color spectrum emerged in the distance.
It was stubby and didn't reach too far up from the horizon.
As I continued on, I kept straining to see it again, and did randomly.
However, it was at Fern Ridge spillway, my favorite spot on that drive, the skies opened up and a huge, bright arc made its way into the water where the birds rest.
I pulled off, gasped, sobbed and thanked all who helped build that sign I so desperately needed.
I knew Pie couldn't have done it on her own, but everyone knew how important it was to get to her and to show me that everything was going to be OK.
As I continued on, the rainbow slowly shrank away and when I made the final turn, it was barely visible in my rear-view mirror.
The direction in which I was headed had cleared up; the sun was out and the skies blue with little, puffy white clouds.
THE Rainbow Bridge!
The message couldn't have been more obvious: she was well, I could go on, we'd both be fine, and will one day see each other again.
 |
| Her last Christmas |
 |
| Lying in State |
Only Chutney (L) and Barrett (R) say goodbye
 |
| She came back to us a week later in that bag |
 |
| The facility had included a thoughtful card, poem and paw print casting |
|
No comments:
Post a Comment
What say you?