The Loss of a Dear Companion.

To lose a pet is very often such an individual experience it is hard to generalise about. It is based on how that relationship unfolded, and the depth of feeling associated with it. For me, in common with so many others, the animals in my life are not so much pets, as life companions. Our journeys are taken together, if we are lucky, then over a period of time. The intricacies of our days are shared. As are the mediocrities.

Household tasks become a great adventure…particularly for cats. Changing bed sheets can be a marvellous game. And a nuisance, especially if in a hurry. This was the case for my young rehomed tuxedo cat and his foster sister tabby. They were energetic and very interested in everything. Unfortunately this interest frequently turned disastrous, with breakages. In spite of this their kittenhood was a time of bonding, and endless amusement.

Anyone who has had kittens will have their stories to tell. Over the years, we shared days that sometimes was desperately sad with loss of older relatives, and sometimes joyously celebratory. The Pandemic brought it’s own challenges and also rewards. We spent more time together than usual and we entered their tenth decade with closer ties than previously.

The subsequent move out of the crowded city to a more rural home brought them new interests and fresh places to explore. Both cats were well and happy. Neither had been ill since they were treated in their early days of rehoming with illness they had brought with them.

It was then a shock when the black and white cat suddenly became extremely unwell. In spite of excellent care, the time came when it was clear he wasn’t one of the 85% who recover from pneumonia. So the decision to euthanise him was undeniably the correct thing to do. And so, he died. Much younger than I had expected, and although he had been ill for several weeks, I had hoped he would recover.

There are no easy answers as to anyone’s length of their days, and similarly sometimes with animals. We all have to accept that the sadness we are left with is the price we pay for their love and companionship.

Is it worth it? For me, yes, without reservation. We had fourteen years together, so I miss him deeply. I don’t want to forget his constant presence and sweet nature. Though in time the rawness of losing him diminishes, there will always be a gap. This is a celebration not just of his death but also snapshots of his life.

* * * *

I can feel his soft velvet fur under my hand.

His ears forward, eyes so green, still so bright.

But struggling to breathe. His dear little back

So thin now. But still I feel his fur under my hand.

My breath catches and my chest feels tight.

Tears start to run down my face. It is involuntary.

I don’t want to lose the feel of his smooth thick fur

Against my resting hand on the side of his chest.

I need to remember the sound as he keeps struggling to breathe.

I don’t want to forget the sight of those bright eyes and pert upright ears.

I don’t want to lose the memory of holding him close that last time.

Feeling his dear tired body, no longer lean but thin. So familiar. So loved.

He has gone now. I step outside. New moon. A cold wind.

A dark sunset. Birds singing. The blackbird first,

Then in harmony a robin, the little wren adding her cry.

And I can feel his soft velvet fur under my hand.