I can't get over the loss of my cat

Cats live much shorter lives than we do and, no matter what we do, one day our beloved companions will cross the Rainbow Bridge. I truly understand the heartache that losing a pet brings because I’ve been through it myself. But we have to find a way to work through the grief, as the love we give and receive is worth the price of the tears. That being said, there are hundreds of cats waiting to be adopted in rescue centres in towns and cities all over the country. These are animals that have been abandoned or left to fend for themselves, and they’re just looking to be loved and cared for. So please, don't hesitate to adopt; you’ll find that after a settling-in period, a new companion will help dry your tears, even though the one you've lost will stay in your heart forever. Thinking of you.

I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve been through exactly the same thing myself. Just tell yourself that you did everything you possibly could, and more importantly, that you gave them so much love. Gradually, you’ll come to terms with them no longer being there, as they’ll always have a place in your heart. I’d really recommend adopting another cat to help you through the grieving process – that’s what I did, and I didn’t even wait six weeks before getting a new companion. Just don't think of it as replacing the cat you’ve lost; it’ll be a different personality and you’ll have to get to know their own little ways, but believe me, they’ll fill your heart and help dry your tears. You know, there are dozens of cats waiting to be adopted in local rescues and I’m sure there’s one out there waiting for you, just needing some love. Sending you my deepest sympathy. Michel

Hi everyone, Thank you all for sharing your stories. They’re heartbreaking and the tears just won't stop, but at least I feel less alone in my grief, and for that, I want to say THANK YOU. I had my beautiful, sweet Nounours put to sleep at home 14 days ago; he was a gorgeous black cat, 17 years old. His sister passed away three years ago, which was a very difficult time, but we got through it together. He was always there for me, no matter what. He always fought his illnesses with such courage and always took his treatments (insulin injections, tablets, etc.) right up until the day he "told" me he’d had enough. I respected that, and I did my best to make sure he was comfortable. Because of my job, I sometimes had to leave him alone for 12 or 24 hours (I’m a residential care worker), and it had become SO hard for me to leave him, knowing he was poorly (he was suffering from terrible vomiting because of his pancreatitis and diabetes). One day, after spending two full days with him, his condition was deteriorating and I made the decision to have him put to sleep. The vomiting was non-stop and he was hardly eating anything, even though he was still asking for food. I didn't know what else to do and I had to go away for work again; I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him alone when he was so ill, so I had the vet come to the house. At the time, I felt like I was making the right choice, but as time goes by, the guilt has naturally caught up with me and is eating me away. I’m crying for him so much. I miss him terribly. I feel like I should have waited a bit longer, that maybe he would have wanted to stay with me just a little while more—we were so close. He was an extraordinary cat, from the time he was a kitten right through to his senior years; he had such a wonderful personality. I know I can’t live without a cat, but it’s too soon for me right now. Well, I say that, but I don’t really know. I still look for my cats around the flat, and I think I hear him sometimes... It’s up to us to make peace with our loss, our actions, and our decisions, but in the meantime, it really is so difficult! I know I did everything I could for him, to look after his health and give him all the love I had to give, even if I wasn't always perfect. I know he loved me very much too. As you all say, future pets will never replace those who have gone. The way animals love goes far beyond the way humans do; they offer us a kind of indefinable, unconditional perfection, and I think that’s what touches those of us who love animals so much. Stay strong everyone, look after yourselves and your grief, and thank you again for your stories!

Hello, I lost my Simba six days ago; he was only two years old and I’d had him for a year and a half. He was run over right outside our house. I’ve been crying almost non-stop since it happened. Even though I’m a mum of three, have a dog, and a demanding job—so we weren’t exactly joined at the hip—he was just wonderful. Funny, cuddly, handsome, didn’t steal food... he ticked all the boxes. I can’t stop replaying it all in my head with the "what ifs": what if my son had come home two minutes later? The cat wouldn’t have been crossing the road at that exact moment. If it hadn’t been raining, Simba wouldn't have been in such a rush to get inside... And that driver—if only he’d been going slower! Every time I do something, I find myself thinking that the last time I did it, he was still alive. Like folding the laundry—he used to pester me by lying right on top of it... And yet I can't stop crying, because in real life there are no "what ifs". I’m at the office right now, hiding my tears. I’m trying not to look too miserable in front of my children, as their coping mechanism is just not to think about it so they don’t get upset... good for them, I suppose, but I must admit I feel a bit resentful that they don’t seem affected. Though, as I write this, I realise I’m actually glad I only have to handle my own grief. Anyway, I’m just putting these words out there on the internet to leave my pain somewhere... I’m supposed to go and see some kittens in a few days to adopt one because I need to fill this void, to think about something else... but I’m also terrified of betraying him. I don’t understand why I’m reacting like this, and I feel so guilty that the pain isn't easing off...

Hello everyone, having lost my Switch three days ago, I’ve come here looking for some comfort; reading your stories is really helping me. She was going to be 14 in three months; I rescued her when she was just two months old. She had cat flu back then, and the vet was quite pessimistic about her chances of survival. But against all odds, with daily care and lots of love, she pulled through. A few years later, when we were living in a house, she came home one evening with a severe internal injury. We never found out what happened to her. She had emergency surgery and it was touch and go, but once again, she made it. After that, she didn't have any health problems at all until this summer. One evening in August, I got home from work to find her under a bed, struggling to breathe. I rushed her to the out-of-hours vet, and they told me she had severe heart disease. She was stabilised and put on medication. For a month and a half, everything was fine; she took her tablets and got back to her normal life. But at the start of October, it happened again... In the space of four days, she was at the emergency vet twice. He started talking about putting her to sleep, but I couldn't bring myself to do it without being certain I’d tried everything. He then mentioned a dog medication that has been shown to work well for cats, but the only problem was that it seriously damages kidney function. I understood then that her life expectancy would be shorter, but I wanted to try anyway. Since October 8th, she’d been on this treatment and was back to her old self. Deep down, I knew it wouldn't last; I was just grateful to spend that time with her—it felt like a reprieve—and I hoped it would last as long as possible. Sadly, on December 27th, she had another crisis and I knew straight away it would be the last one. She came and snuggled right up to me; I stroked her and talked to her while I cried... then we went to the vet. At the clinic, she went downhill fast; the stress made her breathing terrible. The vet offered to stabilise her again and increase the dosage, knowing her kidneys wouldn't cope for long. I didn't want to be selfish... I couldn't put her through that again just for a few more days or weeks, and risk her dying all alone, suffocating while I was at work. So, I made the heavy decision to let her go... The vet put her to sleep and gave her the injection to stop her heart. I cuddled her, talked to her, and said my goodbyes... We buried her in the garden and put a plant over her, where I've been going to sit and remember her for the last three days... We were so close; she used to sleep on my pillow, follow me everywhere, and "talk" to me all day long. I was the only one she really trusted. She was by my side through every big moment in my life: moving house, the birth of my son eight years ago, my separation. I talked to her a lot; we had our own little way of communicating. Today, I think I hear her, or see her... the nights are hard because she isn't there against me, purring and kneading my face. I'm six months pregnant; she'll never get to meet my daughter... I know she had a good life and that I gave her all my love, affection, and tenderness. It takes time for the pain to ease... but in the meantime, it's just so difficult and painful. To my Switch, my "baby love" as I always called her, I hope you are at peace and serene wherever you are. You'll always be in my heart. I love you so much...

Hello to all the fellow grieving pet owners reading this, I’m writing because I’ve been inconsolable since I lost my beloved little cat yesterday morning. I came to this forum looking for stories from other heartbroken owners, and finding comfort in not feeling alone in what I’m going through right now has made me want to share my own experience in turn. If it can help anyone else, then that’s something. My little girl had kidney failure for about three years. The treatment worked reasonably well, but she was still losing her appetite and weight bit by bit, which is sadly par for the course with this awful disease. Recently, her condition had deteriorated significantly; she could only manage to drink from a syringe and was very weak when she suddenly took a turn for the worse, which left her in a near-comatose state. We had no choice but to make the heart-breaking decision to put her to sleep. She passed away yesterday morning. While I don’t feel any guilt about the final decision itself, her absence and the void she’s left in the house are excruciating to bear. Like many of the stories I’ve read here, I find myself wondering if I’ll ever be able to find peace again, and the thought that I might not really scares me. I loved her so, so much. Wishing strength to everyone who feels helpless against the terrible pain of losing our beloved pets. Best wishes.

My beautiful ginger cat, Nester, passed away the day before yesterday from lung complications that went unnoticed and a chain of circumstances that led to his death. I am absolutely devastated and struggling with an overwhelming sense of injustice, confusion, and anger. Even though the vet suggested that it had been too late for several weeks or even months, I still can’t help but feel that a series of events stopped him from pulling through. If we hadn’t been away on holiday for a full week, we would have seen his condition, got him on oxygen, and started him on IV antibiotics. During those seven days, he might have been pining while already unwell, and the infection just took hold. When we left him and his little friend, Mimi, he seemed perfectly fine. I know I’ll carry this guilt with me; I feel like I’m partly responsible, indirectly, for his death. Then there was that dentist appointment on Tuesday—if I’d postponed it, maybe I would have seen in time that he was deteriorating and rushed him to an emergency vet. Tuesday night was the tipping point. By the time he was hiding in a cardboard box in the garage while I was away in Challes-les-Eaux, thinking he was just out for a wander, it was already too late. His lungs were filling with mucus, which we only saw evidence of in his urine; we didn’t understand what was happening and thought it was rat poisoning. He’d actually started urinating all over the place on Tuesday night... On Wednesday morning, we waited until 9 am to make it in time for the appointment the vet in Veynes had given us. By 10 am, he was already past saving. So, despite the vet’s explanations, I still think he could have been saved if we hadn’t lost so much time and if things hadn't happened the way they did. That’s why I feel so awful. Perhaps I lacked the foresight to properly care for my companion. I’ll have to take much better care of the cat I adopt in the future. I’ve read your touching stories with such sadness and send you my tears and my deepest sympathy. The real world is one of time and the finality of death. This wonderful site at least allows us to share our grief. Stay strong, everyone!

It’s been nearly two months now since my beloved furball passed away. I think about him every single day. It’s so hard not being able to see his little face anymore, or have him there by my side to stroke and play with. In the evenings, as soon as I got home from work, he’d be right there, and it was just the same in the mornings—he’d be waiting outside my bedroom door for me. Sometimes he’d even wake me up by sitting on my head while I was still fast asleep. I often think of those green eyes of his; I just loved the way he looked at me. His absence is so heavy to bear. I’d give anything to have him back by my side. My baby, I’m thinking of you so much.