So Much Pain. So Much Guilt. So Much Anger At Myself., I just can't believe my Iggy was hit by a car so close to home. Options

[MissingMyLittleI...]

Hi everyone. I think this site might just save my life, or at least my sanity. Thank you so much for all being here and being such a wonderful support group. I have spent hours reading all your stories... and crying and crying and crying, for all of you, for me, for my little cat Iggy who was struck dead by a car Monday night just two houses up the street from our house. I am crying so much, the screen keeps blurring and I have to keep stopping... oh, this pain is unbelievable.

I know (from reading your posts) that this intense grieving I am going through is normal and that I will be able to bear the pain a little more every day. I can't imagine it ever being gone, though, and I will tell you why: I made a STUPID decision to let my two cats, Iggy and Pete, be indoor-outdoor guys. I guess it's partially because my last cat, Gizmo, who died in August 2006 was so good at being outdoors ad never getting himself in trouble. I have always been the person who thought the rescue/adoption agencies and shelters were seriously meddling with pet ownership when they said "Indoors Only or No Adoption". I chose to get Pete and Iggy from two different rescues that gave me the freedom to decide to let them "have fun" outside. I always thought (I am a biologist) that cats needed to have that freedom to be happy. The problem is-- I now understand, oh too well-- that every time they went out through their cat door, I was playing kitty roulette and they might not come back alive. Oh, this is killing me... (I just can't stop the tears: I am dehydrated so much from crying that my lips are chapped.)

Well, now I know. Poor Pete thinks he is being tortured, I'm sure, but we blocked access to the cat door and he has been inside since Tuesday, when we found out Iggy had been killed.

I need to get this story out of me again and again, it seems. I have called almost all my friends already and told them all, but I feel compelled to share it here too. This is long, long, long... but I hope you will read it.

On Monday night, I heard a bird really screeching and went around the side of the house to see what was going on, and--lo and behold!-- here comes Iggy, carefully climbing up the porch steps with a Mockingbird (!!!) in his mouth. Well, I have both my cats wear bells on their collars to prevent them from being able to catch birds, but he had caught his first one anyway, and at night no less. I held him under my left arm and used my right hand to push on the sides of his jaw so he would release the bird. This worked, and the bird flew away (hopefully without a fatal injury), and then I gave Iggy a big hug and told him he was a good boy and gave him his favorite treats (Greenies).

He happily ate them and then went back out his cat door, even though the front door was wide open (classic Iggy). That was the last time we saw him alive. [I feel like dying every time I think of this: all we had to do was hang on to him in the house, call it a night, and he would still be here with me. But I was busy working on grading homework and exams and had no idea this was a CRITICAL MOMENT for us both. I kept working for a while and then decided I wanted to go for a walk to get some chocolate at a store a few blocks up the street. My boyfriend Sean and I walked up the street-- on the sidewalk, which I never choose! I always walk in the street and would have seen him if he had already been hit (though we didn't hear an impact... and now that I am making an attempt to think more clearly about all this, I think we would have). Then, on the way back, we walked down the middle of the street but got forced on to the sidewalk as a car passed (Was that *the* car? Again, I don't think so any more since we didn't hear an impact. Also, I don't think that car was going fast enough to do what was done to my poor little man...)

Then, we came inside, sat on the couch, turned on a stupid movie (13 going on 30, or the other way around... I never want to see it again, ever), ate some chocolate and decided to turn in around 1am. At that point, we called for Iggy and Sean shook the catfood bag and the treat bag (this usually worked, but not always... so we were not worried when he didn't come in), and then we GAVE UP and went to bed. This is the part that really kills me. He might have already been hit, but I don't think so (same rationale as before). I think if I had just walked up the street a few houses and called him, he would have come to bed with me and, again, he would still be alive and here with me now. I don't know why I didn't go look for him. I feel like I always went and looked for him, but I had actually slacked off lately. I guess my mindset was that he had been doing this outside thing just fine for a long time... no, I take this back. I didn't even have a mindset. I guess I thought he was probably miffed that I had taken his bird away from him. It was more like "oh well, he'll come in when he feels like it."

Or he'll get hit by a car and I will never see him alive again. Oh god. I never even considered the danger he was in EVERY time he went outside. Another CRITICAL MOMENT had come and gone, and I had missed it.

I had also drunk some linden tea because I've been having trouble sleeping lately, and the awful thing is that while I generally take a long time to fall asleep and then sleep lightly (so I would have heard an impact... maybe... it was just a couple houses up where it happened), I fell asleep fast that night and woke up telling my boyfriend that I had had the best sleep I had had in forever...while my little cat was hit by a car. How horrible and ironic.

In the morning, I yelled for Iggy, expecting him to be in the tree he'd been sleeping in lately (another classic Iggy maneuver) and shook his treats and his food, but he was already gone by the time I yelled for him. Not just dead. Gone.

I went to teach my biology class and when I got out of class, I got a text message from Sean that said "call me right away." I knew right then that something was horribly wrong, but I pushed the idea that it could be Iggy down in my mind. But it was Iggy. Sean told me as soon as I walked in the door: Iggy was hit by a car and he didn't make it and then something like "I'm sorry" or maybe "I'm serious". All I could say was "Oh, no." And then "Where is he?"

It turns out our neighbor had found Iggy dead on the sidewalk in front of his neighbor's door, so he called his maintenance man to come and dispose of the body. This still makes no sense to me, because when Sean came home for lunch, he came right over-- smiling and jovial: what the hell?-- and asked if we had a little gray cat with a blue collar. Sean said yes and then the maintenance guy who was sitting in his truck right there in front of our house told him that Iggy had been hit by a car and he had taken him to the shelter. But he HAD NOT. He had taken him to a composting dumpster. Oh my god. The thought that my poor Iggy was not only dead, but in a dumpster with god-knows-what was absolutely devastating. It took us some sleuthing to figure this all out-- valuable time wasted-- so that, by the time we all (four of us) met at the dumpster, it had been compacted and we could not get Iggy out.

I let the maintenance man have it. (This is the one thing I did in that 24 hour period that I am proud of.) I told him he had no respect for LIFE, animal or human. I told him he KNEW that cat was someone's pet-- in fact, the neighbor suspected it was OUR pet-- and yet, he dumped it in a dumpster that he knew it would be impossible to get it back out of. I went on and on... I don't remember it all. And I did it without tears.

Then, I walked over to the dumpster and stared into it, realizing I was not going to get my Iggy out of that reeking, nightmarish mess. I made a sound that I have never made before, then, and it just kept coming out of me. It was like an animal moan, straight up from my lungs. I had to squat down on the ground to keep from collapsing. I cried so hard, I couldn't see anything. The neighbor realized they had done the wrong thing and offered to pay (oh, that's a classic: "I don't want to get my hands dirty, but if you can find someone to do the dirty work, I will foot the bill." What a gesture. Ugh.) The maintenance man, however, just kept this asinine smirk-ish look on his face through the whole ordeal.

Sean brought me home and I called Waste Mgmt, who told me there was no way I could get into that dumpster. Sean called the ASPCA to see if there were laws prohibiting dumping animals like Iggy had been dumped. [No. Just one Florida law that says if you do put an animal in a dumpster (my god!), it has to be packaged in a certain way.] We sat on the couch, heartbroken. I talked to lots of friends I hadn't talked to in a long time that night. They told me it was probably better for me to NOT see Iggy in such awful condition, but I knew I needed to get him out of that dumpster.

No sleep Tuesday night, and then our other cat Pete was up crying at the window and then at us at 5am. I found myself thinking I absolutely HAD TO go to the dumpster, right then. Sean begged me not to do this to myself. I cried myself back into quasi-sleep, but then had to go teach again. That's when I snapped out of my stupor: I stopped at the landfill on my way home from class and asked them if I could be called when the dumpster was brought in and emptied. The woman I talked to said they probably couldn't do that, but I should call the # I had already called the day before (and gotten no for an answer). As an afterthought, she said I should ask for the supervisor of the landfill: that was the first part of the key to resolving this, maybe.

I called and left a message for him, by way of a customer service person who spent maybe 15 minutes on the phone with me, getting down all the details I wanted to tell him. She said they couldn't put me through to him, but she would email him and he might give me a call back. Might.

While I was talking to her, I drove to the dumpster. It wasn't rational, but I had to do it. When I got there, the maintenance man was there. I had thought I might try strangling him if I ever saw him again, but this strange calm came over me and I walked right up to him and said I had a few questions I needed to ask him. His demeanor was different this time around. He answered my questions (where *exactly* did they find him? what *exactly* did the bag look like that he was in... in case Waste Mgmt let me look for him the next day when the dumpster would be emptied? and finally, when he picked him up, was he SURE he was really gone?) and then, incredibly, apologized and said he had felt awful since the day before.

I drove home and went to the spot where they found my Iggy. Nothing. Then, as I was getting really upset, thinking he must not have had major injuries... and maybe he had suffered all night while I slept... and maybe I could have saved him... I looked another couple of feet to my right and saw a pool of dried blood. That might sound awful, and it was, but it also told me he probably died instantly and did not suffer. I fairly ran back to my house and crumpled up on the couch and made that awful noise again.

Then the phone rang-- the guy from Waste Mgmt!!-- and he said they would probably pick up the dumpster around 7 the next morning (today; Thursday). As soon as he gave me this information, I knew he was saying YES. I could go and find my baby! I broke down completely and thanked him over and over. He said he would call in the morning and I could meet him at the landfill, which he did at 6:45 this morning.

Sean and I were as prepared as we could be to go and dig through an awful pile of trash to find Iggy (the bag was black with yellow ties-- thank god for the yellow ties!). But, after we walked up to meet the Waste Mgmt guy and shook his hand, he reached down and picked up a white box and simply said "Here he is." They had already gone through the dumpster and found him for us! I couldn't believe how kind these men were for doing this very nasty work for some woman they had never met, and for a cat that was already dead. So unbelievably kind. My heart aches (in a good way) when I think about their kindness and sympathy and how proud the older guy who had actually found Iggy looked. They had even put him in a clear plastic bag so I could see through the bag that it was him. And they had made sure to include his little blue collar. My god.

On the way home, I decided I had to bathe my little man, to honor him, and to really examine his injuries (I was a vet tech long ago) to determine whether he had died quickly or slowly. Sean begged me not to do this to myself, but again, I knew I needed to. It was horrible for Sean, but it was such sweet sorrow for me: I could touch my Iggy one last time, I could do the right thing with his body, I could find out--for sure-- that his injuries were so massive that death must have been instantaneous (thank god). Sean and I then placed a whole bunch of pictures (of me and Iggy, though there are none of me with Iggy-- none! I am heartbroken at this and reassessing how I live my life, and what I put time and effort and thought into, instead of taking stuff like this for granted...), toys, treats, a leaf from the avocado tree he'd been sleeping in lately, and a single feather from his mockingbird (found it right next to the front door at the last second before I took him to the vet!). I am so glad I did what I felt was right this morning, but I was a wreck afterward anyway.

I decided he should be cremated, not buried in a town that hasn't felt like home since I got here a year ago and that I can never forgive for taking my little cat's life (I know that must be irrational,but it's how I feel), so I called a friend to come with me to the vet's office to drop him off. I will have his ashes on December 17th, but I know I won't be healing any time soon. The grief and guilt and sadness comes over me in wave after wave, with no notice. I am still in total denial that my sweet little man is dead, and the idea that I could have saved him will haunt me for the rest of my life.

If you have read this whole saga (I guess this is a catharsis), thank you so much for doing me and my cat such an honor with your time. I look forward to your posts and I will cherish and respond to every one. Thank you again for being here to save me from drowning in pain and despair. --Sherri

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[sissycat]

Oh Sherri,
I share your pain. So much of your story sounds like the story my Sissycat. Mine are indoor/outdoor also. I had let her out to do her business and in less than 2 hours when I went back to open the door it was too late. She was facing my house in our driveway. It does make me wonder because I saw no blood anywhere if someone had swerved to hit her on purpose or what. Like you I had so many questions and what if's and why's.
I now find it hard to open that door for the others now. I am so scared it will be the last time. I always pet them extra when they go out.

Like you mentioned you have read other posts that yes the guilt and grief are part of the process of healing. Yes, it does take time.

I can tell you I am not healed, but have come such a long way in the last 7 months. I never thought I could make it without her. I still miss her so much and I do shed tears sometimes. (just like now while reading yours cause it reminds me so much of my loss)

I am sending you many hugs and hugs to your angel Iggy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ann]

I am so deeply sorry for your loss of Iggy. It's funny the strength we come up with in times of crisis. If that had happened to me they would have had to fish ME out of that dumpster. I'm so glad you never gave up. With animals as well as people they always say the most tragic accidents happen close to home. With my Arthur, the vet thinks he got hit by a car. He had a 4in gap in his tail which lead to major interal injuries and we had to let him go. I too, suffered with the indoor/outdoor thing. I feel strongly about them having their freedom. I knew the consequences, yet pushed them aside for his happiness. He loved life so much because of it. Anyways, he was afraid of cars, and people. I just can't believe he went out into the street. I think if he did get hit, it happened in the driveway. It's a long driveway with other tenants. Often the paper guy drives or should I say flys in. Only his tail was swiped, which makes me think he was seconds away from escaping. I so understand your guilt. He lived with my boyfriend and he is so devestated by this he said no more cats. Unless they are indoor only, and even after all this, I still have a hard time with it. He is not close to the street and the yard is hugh and full of critters the chase around. We want them to be happy and protect them at the same time and I think our guilt comes from us feeling that we failed them somehow. It will be 6mo on the 8th of Dec and I have cried every day over it. If only we could turn back time, if only we could see this coming. Only when we can accept all this is when we can begin to heal. And that is truely and individual thing. I so undersand every emotion your going thru..I hope you can find comfort here and peace in never giving up getting your baby back home. Iggy is so cute and so very loved. They get comfortable in there surroundings and it's out of hands what they get themselves into. We can only love them while they are here with us...Many hugs..Ann

[Bubba]

Hi Sherri-----I know that sound!!!! That sound from deep within that is primal.The sound of anguish,gut-wrenching, loss of control,parental devastation.I know that sound.The sound that emanates from crying,SCREAMING,your blood pushing against the sides of your body and filling your face with a pressure that makes one imagine that the eyes will evacuate their sockets from the pushing and pressure of this near -psychotic-violent-regurgitative-inner- structure -destroying LIFE changing event...................I know that sound.The chances of this awful page turn having a profound forever-life-changing impact on your life are high.And your perspective on priorities will have marked changes. If you do not have human children to care for, the old fears of your own death may change.Be open and aware of Iggy's presence as the chances of a visit from him are likely at this point in his transition.The crying, in my experience,will ebb as time passes but will come back in full force,unexpectedly,over the months to come,only to recede again.Then it repeats ad infinitum.I think by creating an internal universe of the possibility of real estate for a spiritual reunion with Iggy,it will manifest a goal,a personal goal that you can handle and will reassure you that,hence forth,upon every mornings day you are one final breath closer to that beautiful reunion with baby boy and you will never be apart again.I ache for you.
Your forum pal, Bubba.....................

[MissingMyLittleI...]

Thank you so much, Sissycat. It's Friday morning and the first two things I thought of when I woke up were that I needed to start writing to Iggy every morning (I am in the middle of my first letter to him now and it feels good to just put down on paper how sorry I am for letting him go outside, even though I know he loved it) and that I desperately hoped someone had replied to my post (even though I only posted it 8 hours ago). Thank you so much for being there for me! It's so funny how people you haven't met in person can become such a network of love and support so quickly. Reading your post (before I even decided to join and post myself) made me cry so much that I couldn't have replied to you (even if I had joined already) and I'm so sorry for that. I went through the whole set of posts, scanning them for ones that sounded like me and Iggy, and then read those in full. I am so sorry for your loss and I cannot tell you how much your kind words and empathy mean to me, on this morning when I didn't even want to get out of bed because my Iggy wasn't here any more. He was like a kitten, even though he was 2 years and a few months old. He was a rescue kitty, who had lots of problems in the first few months I had him and only weighed two pounds when I brought him home (the picture is him in his carrier for the first time ever, making the long drive home across Alligator Alley- between Naples and Fort Lauderdale, FL). I feel like I talked about what a kitten he was (his head never really grew much, though his body seemed to keep getting longer and longer! (I uploaded another pic so you can see what I mean.) God, I miss him so so so much... I feel the same way you did: I don't think I can go on without him.). But then I never really processed what that meant: maybe he just wasn't smart enough to be outside. Maybe I needed to find another solution that would give Iggy (and Pete, who I am having a hard time feeling close to... Iggy was mama's boy) an outdoor space that was enclosed so they were protected from cars and all the other dangers out in the big wide world. Thank you so much. So much. You have saved me this morning from total despair.

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[Steve K.]

Sherri,

I just want to say that I would have said most of what Bubba said so I won't repeat it. I am so glad that you didn't give up on getting Iggy out of that dunpster. I am so glad that those men were caring enough to retirieve him for you so that you didn't have to deal with going through all of that trash on top of everything else. I have lost several pets ovet the years and I had all of them cremated. I didn't want to have to leave them behind in case we decide to move some day. I am so very sorry that Iggy was hit by a car. We just lost our Woody dog (4 years old) on 09/11/08 to a car so I can say that I do know exactly how you feel. Iggy and Woody were taken away way too soon and that makes the loss even more painful as far as I am concerned. Thank you for sharing your story. Your tenacity in retrieving Iggy is a tribute to his memory.

Steve

[MissingMyLittleI...]

Gosh, Bubba, thank you so much for your heartfelt reply. I felt like I was writing and writing and writing that post yesterday because I just needed to get it all down before I forgot any details, but I feel like the awfulness of the whole dumpster thing had overwhelmed me so much that it became the focus. Thinking about it, I have been focused on that part for Tuesday, Wednesday and yesterday because I had to get him back out of there and I was so shocked and disturbed about humanity in general... anyway, this morning, I awoke with a whole new set of emotions because now that I got him out of there, I have no anger, no determination to do *something* to help my little boy to get me through the day. All I have is sadness and guilt and loneliness, and now I feel like that horrible moan is caught inside me and won't come out and is just twisting me, twisting me inside. Thank you again for your reply. You and Sissycat have saved me this morning, and I can't tell you how much that means to me. I am sure, like many others have said, that this forum is going to be my lifeline for a while. Maybe a long while. And thank you for giving me some words of wisdom about my priorities changing: they are! I just wish I could have learned this lesson some other way than my little sweet Iggy man dying... oh god, if I could just go back and change it all. But that's what we all want, and I know it's not reality: my brain just can't seem to stop saying "If I only could have..." I guess I should just love him even more for giving me this gift of clear vision. I don't know what I am supposed to do yet, except that my stress-bundling, hamster-wheel-running life MUST BE OVER. I need to experience each day and be happy more often, and spend more time with my remaining cat Pete and my friends and family. I moved to Key West barely more than a year ago, with the goal of starting my own marine ecotour company, but I have only done two trips (in a year!) and instead, having been scrambling to make ends meet with jobs I really do not enjoy and/or that do not pay enough in this very expensive place. I have been feeling LOST here, and isolated from all the people I care about, but yet, when I had my sweet Iggy, I didn't spend enough time with him either. Oh, what to do? I don't know yet, but Iggy's death has let me know one thing for sure: I need to get out of this town and back to somewhere with friends and some kind of contentment. I was reading about the grieving process yesterday, and everyone says you shouldn't make any big decisions while you are grieving, but my priorities have changed and that is that.

My god, I am just going on and on again. Sorry Bubba! I am a talker, and when I am stressed in any way, that's what I do to work through the stress. And this is the worst thing I have ever been through, even though I have been through a divorce and financial problems and the death of my 12-year-old cat Gizmo in 2006. I have never been hit so hard by something before. Ever. This is a whole new and awful experience for me, but I am already taking your advice and trying to be open to signals from Iggy. I am a scientist, and as is the usual case (I guess), I do not have a firm belief in God, the afterlife, etc. That's not to say I am not open to it: I just haven't experienced it. I hope I do with Iggy. I hope. If you knew me well, you would know that, in itself, is pretty incredible. Thank you for helping me open up to that possibility!

[MissingMyLittleI...]

Ann, thank you so much for your reply. I read about Arthur, and felt awful for you and cried my eyes out while I was reading, but I was just too mired in my own emotions to reply to anyone before this. I am going to try to start replying today, but I just don't know. It's not a good day. I woke up with the immediate stab in the heart of "Iggy is dead." I didn't even want to get out of bed. Thank goodness for this wonderful support group I have found! I didn't think there was much chance I'd have any replies yet, but I was hopeful and that's what got me out of bed-- and here you wonderful people are for me!

I am so glad you told me you have struggled with the indoor/outdoor thing too! I have started writing letters to Iggy (the first one today) and when I started to write that I should never have let him go outside, I just couldn't. I know how happy it made him (and Pete, who is still on lock-down and very unhappy about it: I just can't imagine letting him out, knowing something like this could happen to him too!). So what I wrote instead was that I should have found a SAFE way to let him be outside. I started looking at cat fences/enclosures online on Tuesday (the day we found out Iggy had died) and I feel some hope that perhaps that is the way to go. We have a small deck with fencing around it in the back of our house, and I started trying to nail up boards to seal all the low-level escape routes yesterday (for Pete), but then I was just overwhelmed with grief and regret that I hadn't figured this out before my poor sweet Iggy had to die. I set everything down right where it was, came in the house, apologized to Pete and just cried and cried. But I think an outdoor enclosure might be the way to go while I am in this terrible city that I feel took my cat from me. Pete is crying away at the front door, as I am typing this, so I need to find some compromise for him that won't put him at risk. I am also worried that he might go wandering, if I just let him out, to look for Iggy.

Ann, you mentioned that the cat lived with your boyfriend. Can I ask you (and everyone) something very personal? Did you have any problems feeling close to your boyfriend after Arthur died? I just feel completely "shut off" right now, and I don't want hugs and kisses and affection. Poor Sean (who is also grieving) is struggling to be close to me, but I just don't want it. I feel like I am being so awful and cold, and I have apologized several times, but all I feel is that my whole world has shrunk down to me and my poor Iggy...

[MissingMyLittleI...]

Steve, thank you so much. Several of my friends have said the same thing about the whole dumspter thing: that they are so glad I got Iggy back out of that awful place. I am SO GLAD I did everything I did, too. I don't think I could have lived with myself if I hadn't gotten him back, so it wasn't really an option to not do it (even though I was so afraid I would fail somehow). I am so sorry for your loss too: poor Woody. I read your post about him, but as I keep saying to everyone this morning, I just wasn't in any shape to post any replies. I am going to start trying as soon as I feel up to it.

I have been reading a lot about grieving, and they say the process is much more painful when the loss is sudden. My god, I agree completely. When my cat Gizmo died of chronic renal failure, I was sad and hurt (and guilty, because it happened while I was away visiting friends... and I had left him with a former boyfriend who promised to get fluids in him the day I left... and then he didn't... ugh), but not like this. I think I felt more like I do now when Gizmo was first diagnosed and I knew I was *going to* lose him: that was the sudden shocking part. Once he had been diagnosed and we changed his diet and he got much better, that awful grief just vanished. Then, when he started to go downhill again, I was so sad, but I had known it was coming and that made it easier to bear. Plus, I got to give him all the extra love I could before he died. But with Iggy (and your poor Woody), there is NO WARNING. No chance to give them extra love (it kills me now that I had taken his bird away from him, and I keep wondering whether he would still be alive now if I had let him keep the bird-- I really think he would have stuck around at home, then, and would still be here now). No chance to prepare. Just sudden, agonizing, irreversible pain. I can't believe Iggy is gone. I keep thinking of how fast it all happened. I am so angry with myself for going to sleep instead of going to get my little cat. This stuff is just never going to end... I will replay it and replay it... and I don't even feel like I deserve to get over this.

Sorry. I just got another wave of that awful, all-consuming grief and sadness and guilt.

Thank you for telling me that you have always cremated lost pets. I never have, until now. It never felt right before (though with Gizmo, it might have, if I'd been able to make the decision: my ex buried him before he even called me to tell me he was dead). It was so bittersweet to put all Iggy's little special things in there with him for the cremation. (The crying just won't stop this morning.) But I feel so much better that he has all his special things-- even pictures of me-- to make the trip up to Miami (oh god, should I be going there with him???) for the cremation. My poor baby boy. OK, I'm going to start wallowing in this right now, so I will leave off here and just say thank you again and I am so sorry for your poor Woody...

[Flossie's Mom]

Sherri,

I've been where you are right now. Many, many times. I lost several cats from letting them be outside. Once I moved to a busy bigger city I had to make the ones I had then stay inside. I hated to do that but they were grown and not at all street wise so I couldn't take that chance.

I think over the years I've lost pets every way imaginable. None have been easy. All hit me differently. Older pets, younger pets, hit by a car, killed by another dog, cancer, old age, you name it. The two that have been the most difficult were a cat with cancer that I promised I would not let her suffer, delayed putting her to sleep so she DID have a difficult passing on my lap 1 block from the vets office. Then my recent beloved companion of over 17 years who I nursed through several life threatning issues from time to time over 14 years.

The cat that I now have was to be strickly indoor. While at a 160 acre farmstead this summer, he BEGGED to go out. So I let him, worrying that a hawk would come along and grab him since he is light colored. He stuck close but seemed to have the natural instinct to head for the trees & run while in the open most of the time. I made sure he came in before dark & not out till daylight. He began as a kitten on a leash so while traveling back to our home I took him out a couple of times on leash. He snuck out at our sons house but I had always made it a point to not chase him when I wanted him to come to me and then shove him inside. I began his outdoor adventures by going out to call for him & when he came running, I'd pick him up, pet him for a short time & put him down so it would not make him want to avoid me if I needed him to come. He snuck out twice since being home.....NOT a place he will be allowed out........ and since he did not have the "flight" instinct I was able to just walk up to him & get him inside.

Cats and dogs alike love to be outside and free to explore and I hate also to have to keep them contained inside or on a leash. So I know your struggle. Do not beat yourself up..... easy to say I know. Be comforted that it appears Iggy did not suffer. One of my cats that was hit struggled with bladder & bowel control till I finally had to put him to sleep. We think it was a car that injured him and he was fine except for that & he could not hold his tail up. No marks on him at all.

Maybe Iggy's purpose in your life was for this to happen for whatever reason yet unknown. Maybe to protect Pete, maybe to bring the things you mentioned to the front of your mind. In any event, remember how he enriched your life while he was here... and will continue to enrich your life through what ever evolves as a result of his very unfortunate and much too soon passing.

I admire your dilligance in seeing to it that you got him out of that dumpster. He knows how you fought to get him so you could have his ashes forever. He knows how you love him and will continue to forever remember his love for you. Try to think of all the cute, funny and loving things about him. I know, for a long time those things will cause the tears to come. But it does help in the long term. Someday the tears will just be gentle tears of love and remembrance rather than the gut wrenching dispair that you now feel.

Hugs to you & Iggy......... Ginger

[Bubba]

Hi Sherri--The God thing is something I have struggled with for years and even now at 53 years old I find my faith in intermittent stages of flux.But what I surmise at this point that the faith thing is key.By that I mean that while yes,a provable thesis by scientific hypothesis and tangible data for the existence of God by way of controlled experiments has thus far not entered the knowledge base in academia, faith has gained a respectable position in humanity's psyche as an optional way,short of scientific certainty,to provide at least psychologically,a modi%% of comfort and reassurance during times of tragedy and the ensuing balance of time left on the horizon.For example,on the night of the death of my beloved bulldog Willy,at 12;15 am to be precise,I stood outside on my patio and looked to the sky,engorged in tears and grief and pleaded to Willy "Baby boy,if you can hear or see me,please give me a sign that you are ok because I can't stand this pain and I don't think I can go on".Well,literally one second later a shooting star whoosed by at low altitude and disappeared.I have never seen a shooting star in my life and I took it as a sign.I had to.In the following days after his demise,Willy made 'appearances' to me in what could be described as in a holographic form,looking at me,coming up to me and giving a vibe that I interpreted as that things were just fine and as is the rest of all things in life,that of having an impermanent nature and this moment was not one of being static,but rather yet another cell on the continuing reel of this moving picture called our lives.Was it a projection of my mind wanting him back so much that I was able to generate this image? Perhaps.But in order to self-preserve I choose to think that it was real.Faith based I suppose.While I am a participant in a lot of what is proclaimed in the New Testament I also get good information for day to day living from the thinkers in the East(and I don't mean New Jersey).One thing that has embedded itself in my little sub-system of a sub-system otherwise known as my brain is this:

Desire creates attachment which creates universe--------On a good day this can be the balm of HOPE.

Peace and Love to you fellow PetParent...............Bubba.................

[MissingMyLittleI...]

Oh Ginger, thank you so much for all your kind words and for the time you took to respond to me. I am having a really terrible day today and I just checked back in, hoping against hope that someone else would have some words of wisdom and condolence for me. Thank you for being there! I really appreciate what you said about intending to keep your cat indoors, but then they just beg to go out. I am really struggling with this. I just patched up every possible escape route in our fenced-in back deck and trimmed Pete's claws so he can't climb the fence (thank goodness he is such a fat boy... Iggy was a born fence-climber, skinny and lanky and agile), and have had the back door open for him for the past few hours. He was just miserable having all the doors closed to him, and while I am not planning to ever let him "out out" again through the front, I am so miserable myself today that Pete's crying was really killing me and I wanted to offer him a compromise. Now, in true cat fashion, he is happily asleep on the couch... (thank goodness).

I have turned a new corner in my grieving, just since this morning. I am certain that when I moved to Key West and started ****** my boyfriend (who is seriously allergic to cats), I pushed Iggy to become more independent. I didn't allow him to sleep with us at night (because of the allergy/asthma issue) and when he came crying by the window in the morning, I was just frustrated with him (so awful... so so awful) that he couldn't just sleep by himself a little longer.

Before the Key West / new boyfriend stage, Iggy had literally slept on my pillow every night. He would never have stayed out late, like he did the night he was killed, because he wanted to sleep with me. I don't know how I'm going to get past this horrible guilt-- I think of myself as a fantastic pet owner who goes above and beyond the call of duty for my cats, and yet I pushed Iggy away, when he was in a new place and really must have needed me more than ever before. I am so sure that my behavior last year encouraged him to become more independent, and roam outside more, and he almost never slept in bed with me any more. I feel like the universe gave me this incredible, and incredibly rare, little gift of a cat... and this is how I treated that special relationship: I made it play second-fiddle to a human relationship. I am really in anguish over this, and mostly because I HADN"T EVEN THOUGHT OF IT UNTIL AFTER HE DIED. Oh, my poor little cat. Iggy-- I am so sorry, sweet little man...so so sorry...

If anyone else has dealt with something like this, I would really appreciate hearing how you dealt with it. I guess what I feel is that I emotionally (partially) abandoned him, and that ultimately, that led to his increasing independence, and that led to his death. I feel like I failed him.

[MissingMyLittleI...]

Bubba-- thank you so much! I have never heard that saying before, and it is beautiful! And thanks for giving me a little hope (if not faith, quite yet). I thought I heard his mockingbird this morning, which made me happy when I thought it might be some kind of a sign... and then sad when I thought "If I hadn't saved the mockingbird, maybe Iggy would still be alive." Ugh. I definitely understand where having faith that the bird was a sign without then having the awful nagging guilt would have helped me feel a little better. As I said, while I don't have a firm conviction for the existence of all things supernatural, I don't have a firm conviction that they don't exist either: a true agnostic. But my senses are all open (as is my mind, for once) to the possibility of signs from Iggy. Thank you!

[Bubba]

Hi Sherri----I think this forum will be a good place for you as it has been for me.P.S. Google 'The Rainbow Bridge' You might enjoy it as a primer on your new journey.
Bubba.................

[Flossie's Mom]

Sherri,

I don't really have any words of wisdom as I have not always been the best pet Mommie myself. Although after many mistakes I did try do do better as I got older and learned from the mistakes I made with pets lost. I got what my family thought was overprotective but my Flossie was 17 years, 7 months & 2 weeks old. I remind them she made it that long because of my dilligance

Many of us here feel a loss greater than a human family member. I think because they love us unconditionally..... listen to us anytime we need to vent, seem to know when we need extra attention. They are always so glad to see us when we come home. Some are just so extra special that the loss seems to be unbearable.

I hurt terribly at the loss of my special girl Flossie but I know in my mind that it was time. I tried to deny that for almost a month. She was eating good, still responded to me and would look to be sure I was near when sleeping on her bed during the day but she was having more days with difficulty walking than days that she could walk ok. She was cranky with me many times. I know I could have kept her alive longer but she was not my wonderful companion any longer. She was not in a lot of pain I'm sure but sometimes she just sat & stared at the wall or floor for a long time.

I believe that no matter the cir%%stances we all somehow feel that we failed our pets when they leave us. I feel I failed Flossie somehow also. I could have done many things differently for her in her lifetime. I also sometimes feel that I should have tried harder to keep caring for her even though she struggled to walk most days. She actually would sit a while and then you could see her determination when she would get up.... head for her bed with an almost "I can DO this!" attitude. I had devoted so many years to her health issues that they seemed to be getting to be too much. She'd started having seizures so I wouldn't leave her for more than a few minutes. So sometimes I wonder did I put her to sleep for me or for her?

These thoughts are heart and mind struggling with each other I guess. You are no doubt having the same struggle because you let Iggy be free and now blaming yourself thinking you pushed him away. This will no doubt last a while as it has been 5 weeks for me & I still struggle. I do have more better days now.... not to say I don't shed a tear every single day, but they do not seem to be such a deep feeling of hoplessness. Just tears for a long time much loved special girl that I miss sooooooooo much.

This forum will be a great help to you as you read what others write of their beloved pets. I come here and read several times a day. It does make me cry but the tears seem to be helping me.

You did not fail him... you loved him enough to get him from the dumpster. He knows that......................... Ginger

[sissycat]

I lost Sissycat June 5 this year and lost my step-dad on June 25th. I felt so guilty cause I didn't feel near the loss with him that I did with my Sissycat. I cried for days and days when she was killed and only one time when he passed. I just couldn't understand why I felt this way. As many people here have said it is because we are with our pets all the time.
Yes to answer your question. I didn't want to have anything to do with anyone. Even my own kids. I felt bad for that too. I just wanted to be left alone.
The day she died I had to be at work about 45 minutes later and my daughter works the same place. I had called her and asked her to tell everyone not to even talk to me that day. It was like my body was on auto pilot. I was there and did my job--but I wasn't really there.
I also know what you mean about getting posts from someone. anyone. just to know someone out there is reading mine and letting me know they care. That means so much to me.


I know it is early, but maybe someday you can open your heart to another furbaby. Took me all these months. I got my Esme 5 days ago. She is crawling on my shoulder right now.

Hugs to you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

[MissingMyLittleI...]

Thanks Bubba! I will check it out...

[MissingMyLittleI...]

Ginger, those were all words of wisdom, as far as I am concerned. Thank you so much again for your lovely long post. I just cannot believe how fantastic all of you have been to me today, and I have really appreciated it so much. I have been up and down all day today (mostly down), but have really been perseverating on this new realization that I pushed Iggy away-- to become more independent of me, when that was ultimately the LAST thing I wanted... I just didn't know that until it was too late. I have to pop up out of my grief here and give you some support now:

I know, from personal experience, that making the decision to euthanize a pet is just heartbreaking. My ex decided to go that route with his cat, Kitty, who we both knew was not enjoying her life much any more. But the day she was scheduled to go in to the vet, I stayed with her all day and she just purred and purred... and it made me second-guess everything we had already discussed, already decided on. It's tempting to think that if they show one positive sign, they want to stick around, but--in fact-- pets HIDE their pain. I just read somewhere that it's a survival instinct, and as a person who has studied biology forever, it makes sense: you don't limp or cry or even slow down unless you absolutely must, because in the wild you would immediately be targeted by a predator! So, don't think Flossie was fine, and you just decided to put her down for your own sake. When you have had a close relationship for as many years as you did with Flossie, you get to know them so well, you just know when it's time. And they can't tell you: you have to guess. But there are always signs and hints and clues, even if they're subtle. When I second-guessed my ex's decision about his cat, he simply said "I know my cat and she wants this to be over." In the final &%^ysis, I am sure he was right.

It is a painful, gut-wrenching thing to decide to take action to put an animal out of its misery, but when you know they are suffering and you have the power to end that suffering, it is a NOBLE, loving thing to do for them. I am sure you did the right thing and Flossie is so glad to have had such a strong mom!

[MissingMyLittleI...]

Hi Sissycat-- your post made me feel SOOOOO much better! I just feel like a shell, like my insides have been ripped out, and I have been going through the motions just like you did. I had to teach a marine biology class Tuesday night, just 5 hours after I found out my Iggy was dead and in a dumpster and irretrievable (or so we all thought... I am so glad I got him back!). My boyfriend drove me to campus because I thought I was going to just walk in and say "Sorry guys, class is canceled." But I got there and saw them all waiting for me (I was late for the first time all semester), and then after I told them what had happened and told them I just wasn't myself, they all expressed their condolences and said it was OK with them if I wasn't myself. Something in me just clicked and I lectured for over 2 hours on complete autopilot.

I have been on autopilot ever since, I think, but I have been trying to stay busy. It isn't easy. I feel so spacey too... and I need to think clearly right now: I am making up all my final exam reviews for my students this week! And next week, I will have to write the exams and make them coherent and fair... ugh.

Thank you so much for sharing such personal aspects of what you went through with Sissycat: about feeling like you didn't want to be around anyone and feeling more upset over her death than you did over your stepdad's. I completely understand! While I was surfing the internet today, looking for animal grief sites, I ran across a site somewhere that was asking for volunteers for two psychological studies of pet loss grieving. Hmm... let me see if I can find it and post them here:
******************
BEREAVEMENT STUDY: The Continuing Impact of a Pet's Death

Researchers from the Pacific Graduate School of Psychology are conducting a study to learn about the impact of losing a pet. The investigators are Wendy Packman, JD, PhD, Nigel Field, PhD., and Rama Ronen, PhD. In this work, the researchers are collaborating with Dr. Betty Carmack, Professor Emerita, University of San Francisco School of Nursing. They are requesting participation from adults (18 years and older) who have lost a pet within the last 12 months. It is hoped that the information learned will assist in providing comprehensive care for those grieving the death of a beloved animal companion.

If you choose to participate, you will be asked to complete questionnaires about how you are adjusting and coping with the loss of your pet. The questions are designed to help us better understand your experiences following the death of your pet. You have the option of completing the questionnaires online or we will mail copies of the questionnaires to you. Your individual responses will be kept completely confidential. Participation in this study will take approximately 1 hour.

If you are interested in participating in this study you can Click Here, send an email to: petlossstudy@gmail.com, or call 650- 421- 4870 and leave us a message. Thank you.
*******************
VOLUNTEERS NEEDED FOR GRIEF STUDY. Help further our understanding of relationships between people and their pets. Has your cat or dog died within the last year? Have you NOT experienced the death a close person within the last two years? Are you at least 18 years of age?

A Ph.D. candidate at the California School of Professional Psychology is seeking volunteers to answer brief research questionnaires about their experience with the death of an animal companion.

Participation is voluntary and confidential. You may complete questionnaires online by visiting http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=Psxx...JO0Xf01Yw_3d_3d

If you have any questions regarding this study, feel free to contact Loren King, M.A. at animal.loss@gmail.com.
********************

Not sure if this is good forum etiquette to post these, but I honestly felt participating in them might be helpful to me... and maybe to you too. I think this animal bereavement issue is seriously under-studied and it would be great to help get more information out there for all of us who are suffering this way, and thinking we are crazy or abnormal for feeling this so deeply and for so long...

Thanks so much, Sissycat! I feel so much more normal now! Hang in there and I am so happy you have your little Esme to give and receive all that LOVE! I already am thinking of getting another furbaby, though I don't know how long I should wait and I fear that whole "am I trying to replace Iggy?" issue... but Pete is beside himself and so are Sean and me. So I guess we'll just see...

[sissycat]

I feel like I have connected with you somehow.
I was unsure of when to get another furbaby. I wanted one right away just to fill the void, the empty hole in my heart, and just to keep me busy. I too felt like I would be replacing Sissycat if i got another and that is not what I wanted to do. No one can ever replace her. I know that. I don't think i will ever have that SPECIAL bond again. I am an animal lover (especially cats) I have an older cat about 8 years old and then there is Sissycat's mother about 4 years old, and I have Sissy's 2 littermate sisters. I didn't pick Esme I think her and Sissycat made it happen. Only you will know when the time is right. For some it is right away and others it takes time.
I really missed her with me at night. She would wait for me to lay down and here she'd come. My room was Sissy's domain. The other cats didn't come in there.
Just within the last month finally one of her sisters is coming to my bed. I just love it.

I sure hope my posts can help you. Yours help me too.
If it were not for this site I would have gone nuts i'm sure.
Yea, my family was there for me, but after a while I think they got tire of it. The people here never get tired of it no matter how long we are here.
I did participate in one of those studies.
Hugs to you!!!!!!!!!!!!!