Hurting So Much..., Lost my once-in-a-lifetime kitty two days ago Options

[Ollie's Mama]

Sixteen years ago, I found a litter of five kittens underneath a fence behind my parents’ house. Their mother, a stray, had likely been killed by a coyote. The poor little kittens, only a few days old, had been lying outside exposed and without their mother for who knows how long.

My dad and I scooped up the kittens and rushed them to our vet. We then proceeded to bottle-feed and care for the kittens, knowing that some of them probably wouldn’t make it. Over the next several days, three of them succumbed to a respiratory infection; I cried and cried. Miraculously, the last two didn’t get the infection, and they became my babies Ollie and Pooky.

It wasn’t smart to keep them; I was severely allergic to cats. But after bottle-feeding them and raising them, I couldn’t bear to part with them. So I picked up a bunch of prescriptions for allergy meds and became a cat owner for the first time, not realizing how tightly these two little ones would wrap themselves around my heart.

Right from the beginning, little buff-colored Ollie decided that I would be his person, and I would hold him constantly and carry him throughout the house nuzzled against my cheek. Pooky, a more playful and less needy personality, took more to my dad, although she always loved me, too. Both cats came with me across the country to law school, saw me through a failed marriage, and truly were my first kids.

I later married a wonderful man who loved them just as much as I did; we also added Dingo, an abandoned stray my best friend found - and the best dog ever - to our family. All three of our babies got along great. In 2007, we welcomed a human son into our family but never made our furry babies second-class citizens; they remained as important and loved as they ever were, and our little boy grew to love them all so much.

In 2008, when Ollie was thirteen, he threw up a couple of times, which I didn’t worry too much about because he had long hair and often coughed up hairballs. He didn’t look sick, but I took him to the vet, anyway, because Dingo had caught a stomach bug from my friend’s dog, and I wanted to make sure that Ollie hadn’t somehow come down with the same thing. My vet ran some bloodwork and called me from home on a Sunday to tell me that Ollie was very sick, his kidneys were failing, and I needed to get him in first thing on Monday morning to get hooked up to an i.v. We were in total shock. Ollie stayed at the vet’s on i.v. all day on Monday, and luckily his kidney values improved. Thus began his journey with feline chronic renal failure (CRF), and our journey as caregivers.

For the next two years and nine months, we devoted our lives to taking care of him, and he did very, very well on his subcutaneous fluid treatment and other medicines. For the first couple of years, he never really seemed sick at all, which was a huge blessing for which I am so grateful. After that, his kidney values slowly started creeping up, he began throwing up frequently and becoming more constipated, and he gradually needed more and more fluids. Still, he remained as cheerful and happy as ever, and we worked together with our awesome vet to come up with ways to deal with all of these issues. I lived in constant fear of losing him since he was diagnosed, but at the same time I weirdly thought he’d just always be there because I needed him – isn’t that crazy?

In September of last year, we lost our dog Dingo to cancer, which completely devastated us. I spent a lot of time at this site reading all of your stories, which helped me immensely, although I was too shy to post and too paralyzed by this first earth-shattering loss to know what to say. I’m sorry it’s so late, but thank you all so much for the help you didn’t know you gave me. : ) At the end of April this year, Ollie was super-happy and stable when he suddenly had a stroke that left him completely unable to walk. Absolutely terrified, we took him to our vet, so scared to hear about his prognosis. She said that he wasn’t in pain at all, so if we were willing to take care of him, she was willing to take it day by day and see if he would improve. She had just seen a 19 year old cat recover completely from a stroke, so she definitely thought it was worth a shot.

My husband and son had to leave the next day for a family reunion that had been planned months in advance; I stayed behind to take care of Ollie. I brought him food and water, carried him to the litter box, and spent the entire week talking to him, petting him, and working on rehabilitating him. Every tiny improvement lifted my heart. By the time my husband and son returned from their trip, Ollie could walk again, and pretty well! It was really a miracle, and I was so, so happy.

Ollie continued to improve for the next couple of weeks, and I was overcome with gratitude and joy. But then some labs on one of his weekly check-ups showed his kidney values were worsening quite a bit. “No!” I thought. “No, no, no! Not after everything he’s just been through!” We added a medication and increased his fluids again, hoping to bring the numbers down. He seemed to be getting better, and my heart filled with hope again.

But about a week ago, Ollie suddenly started walking funny, and my husband noticed it was because he suddenly couldn’t see. We rushed him to the vet again to find that his blood pressure was super-high and had detached his retinas, leaving him blind. We started him on a blood pressure medication, and he became totally limp like a noodle...at first we thought it was just a reaction to the blood pressure medication. So my vet reduced the dosage, and we were hoping that he'd be okay once the medicine was adjusted.

But a couple of days later, he threw up and aspirated the vomit into his lungs because he was so limp. We rushed him to the emergency vet, who didn't think he'd survive the night. He stayed in the hospital under oxygen. I cried all night long. He made it to morning, and we rushed him to our regular vet's office. The vet told us sadly that he thought Ollie was limp because he might have suffered another stroke or thrown a blood clot, that his kidney values were now super-bad, and that with everything that was going on, he didn't think there was any way for him to recover from the severe pneumonia caused by the vomit. He agreed to put Ollie under oxygen for a few hours to see if he would improve, though.

While Ollie was under oxygen, I got a frantic call to come right away because he had taken a turn for the worse and was about to be in respiratory arrest. We drove as fast as we could to the vet's and were able to be with Ollie while the vet put him to sleep. It was horrible, but we were grateful that the decision to put him to sleep was a clear one to make.

And now…I am totally broken. My husband is devastated, too. My little son is sad, but he doesn't really completely understand what happened, thankfully. Ollie was such a happy little thing who really brightened up our lives, and now it's like a light just got turned off. He was always, always with us - in my lap or my husband’s (my husband works from home), holding on to us with his paws, purring like crazy. He literally screamed with joy every time we came home. He slept tucked under my arm every night for sixteen years – I actually got tennis elbow from my arm being wrapped around him so much. : ) My son hugged him so much every day. Before deciding to do anything, we always considered how it would impact Ollie. Everywhere we look, we see him, and we are both still sad about Dingo, too, which just makes everything worse. Pooky is doing well and is a huge comfort to me, but she and Ollie were always a pair, and it hurts to see her other half missing. I keep blaming myself: Why didn't I insist on having his blood pressure checked earlier? What if I had done bloodwork more often? Why didn’t I prop up his head on his blanket in case he threw up? and on and on. I know it's not helping things and won't bring him back, but I keep doing it. I always told my husband in dead seriousness that it would be easier to lose a limb than to lose Ollie – at least then my heart would remain intact.

I know I should be nothing but grateful, and I am grateful for so many things – Ollie had a long, happy life despite having a terrible disease, he had the best, most caring vets in the world, we were able to spend so much time with him due to my husband's flexible work situation, and he left this earth as peacefully as possible and has his brother waiting for him to guide him. But I also know Ollie was a once-in-a-lifetime pet, and our bond was so strong that his departure has left behind an overwhelming emptiness. My lap, arms, heart, and his little (okay, large : ) ) space in our bed are empty. I know logically it isn’t true, but I feel like he took the most patient and good parts of me with him when he left. I know things will get better with time, but right now I don’t know how to be happy without him.

Thank you all so much for listening. I’m sorry this was so long – I think it has helped me some to get Ollie’s story written down, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading it. I know that you are all so compassionate and understand exactly how I feel. I know that I am still crazy lucky to have my husband, son, and Pooky with me, and I love them so. This is just hard. My husband summed it all up when he hugged me close and told me gently, “There’s a reason I’ve been dreading this day for twelve years.”

Thank you again for listening, and much love to all of you who are hurting, too. I wish I could give you all a big hug and find the right thing to say to help you with your pain.

Hugs to all,
Terri

[moon_beam]

Hi, Terri, please permit me to offer you my sincerest sympathies in the loss of your beloved Ollie. Losing a beloved companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we have been blessed with the privilege of their company. Euthanasia is the last gift of love we can give to our companions at great sacrifice to ourselves so that they can once again be restored to their former youthfulness in the company of the angels. And losing two beloved companions so close together can be very traumatic.

Terri, what you are feeling when you say you feel like a part of you is missing is very real - - for your precious Ollie has taken a part of you - - a part of you that belongs only to him - - with him to the angels. In time the seering ache and emptiness that is in your heart - - and life - - will ease. This will be a good thing because as your deep grief eases you will be able to remember your precious Ollie with a happy heart - - and this is what your precious Ollie wants for you. The love bond you and Ollie have is eternal, Terri - - it is not limited to the physical laws of time and space. Hopefully in time you will know that your precious Ollie's sweet Living Spirit is forever with you in your heart and your memories, and he continues to share your earthly journey just as he always has and always will.

This grief journey is one of adjustment, Terri, - - adjustment to the physical absence of your precious Ollie. It is a one day at a time journey, sometimes a one moment at a time journey. It cannot be rushed, there is no "fast forward" or "delete" button that can be pressed to make it go away. Please know you are among friends here who do understand what you are going through, and we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us.

Terri, thank you so much for sharing your precious Ollie and Dingo with us. I hope in some way you will find comfort and encouragement in what I have shared with you this evening. Perhaps sometime you might like to post a picture of your precious Ollie to share with us, if you'd like to do so. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Terri, and look forward to knowing how you and your family are doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

[Gretta's Mom]

Hello Terri

Please accept my most heartfelt condolences on the passing of your dear darling Ollie. I'm a few weeks ahead of you on the long lonesome road - I lost my Gretta (the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived) on April 10. I know what you mean when you say you feel like you're totally broken. Your heart IS broken. A huge Ollie-shaped hole has been shot through it. You have come to the right place. I've discovered that the Lightning Strike family is one of rare, very rare, people whose special spirit animal has found them - out of all the millions and billions of people in the world, make him or herself noticed, sparked an instant, canyon-deep love and gave back millions of times the love his or her human half gave. It's rare. Only those who have experienced it can know it.

Thank you so much for sharing the story of your incredible Ollie. And please, please kick all thoes "what if's" and why didn't I's" to the curb whenever they pop up. You did heroic things for your Ollie - far beyond the capability of most people on earth. Two and a hlaf years on subcutaneous fluids - that's an amazing love. Helping her to relearn to walk after a stroke - that's amazing love. Insisting that she be in not one but TWO oxygen tents - that's amazing love. Every single one of us wishes desperately for "just one more" minute, hour, day. ow much would be enough? There's never enough.

And the wonderful news is, as you've probably already discovered, that our spirit animals live on after they leave this earth. They go to the perfect world where we all came from. They watch over us, guide us, teach us and, most important, love us exactly as always - but we just can't see, hear or touch them. And that HURTS - A LOT! Moonbeam said once that the reason the heartache will never go away is that our soul-mate took a piece of our soul with them and left a piece of theirs with us. I know that's true for me and my Gretta. I still cry whenever I write here or sing Gretta-words to old folk songs. It's not the shocking, shot-in-the-heart pain of the first couple of weeks (thank God) but it's like a huge concrete block on the heart.

Terri, our soul-animals came here to teach us many lessons - just by being. And when they think we're ready, they make us solo - even though we KNOW we're not ready. But animals are smarter than people, so they know best. And then they put our souls into the firey furnace of having to voluntarily ASK FOR the greatest heartberak there is in order to give them the greatest gift of all - releasing them from (as one LS friend put it) their broken shells.

Ollie is somewhere safe, warm, happy and filled with other soul-animals who are caring for their soul-people invisibly. Ollie and Gretta can see us, they're watching over us, loving us, guiding us, teaching us, putting things in our paths .... exactly like when we could see and touch them. You passed the "love test" - every day Ollie was with you on this earth and every day since she became invisible. We WILL be reunited in the perfect world to come. An old preacher once told me that faith was a choice - that you chose what you believed in. And I know, I choose to believe, I KNOW it is so, that our souls are one whole - part here with us and part there with them and that one day we will again be a single soul. (Ollie and Gretta are probably having a bragging contest right now about their moms!)

Thank you for joining our lightning Strike family. We're here for you. We're strong together. And we KNOW of what we speak.

Please be kind to yourself, Terri, and one day in not too long a time, you will find a tiny bit of relief - and slowly, ver so slowy, that will grow larger until (I have to take this on faith, too) one day the happy memories of Ollie will be greater than the heartache.

In kindness....

Gretta's mom

[Ollie's Mama]

Thank you so much, moon_beam and Gretta's Mom, for your super-kind, thoughtful, and heartfelt messages. You have both so eloquently addressed exactly what hurts so much, and your words bring me great comfort. Thank you so much. I do believe that Ollie's soul is in heaven watching over me, but I am having a really hard time dealing with his physical absence - he was pretty much attached to my hip, constantly purring and grabbing on to me, and I feel like a mother whose baby has been ripped away from her arms. He was very vocal, unheard-of affectionate, and would follow me wherever I went, so his absence feels like a punch to the stomach every time I turn around. I miss seeing him, cuddling him, hearing him, talking to him, and smelling him (even though he probably didn't smell very good to anyone else, my husband and I agreed that he always smelled sweet to us. : ) ). I have also been an insomniac for most of my life, and Ollie was always the one who kept me company after everyone else was asleep.

To make matters worse, right before Ollie got really sick, my husband and I decided to sell our condo and move in with my parents in order to help them keep their home, which they had lived in forever. I was very sad and a tiny bit bitter about losing my home (even though I really did want to help my parents), but after Ollie had the stroke, I thought, "You know what? I don't care where I live as long as Ollie is okay and our little family is together!" When he recovered from the stroke, I was overjoyed and ready to deal with living in a less-than-ideal place. Then he got so sick and was gone, and now my living space without him just seems downright...hostile. I keep looking around and thinking, "This is where my poor Ollie got sick and had to leave us." I keep picturing finding him right after he vomited and watching him gasp for breath while we rushed to clean him up and get him to the emergency vet. The memory makes me sick to my stomach - the idea of my best friend and such a gentle creature suffering at all like that - and I can't stop crying. I know it was only for a short time, and the emergency vet was able to make him more comfortable quickly, but how will this place ever be a home now with his last moments here like that?

But on to happier thoughts....how beautiful, moon_beam, to describe the love as eternal and transcending the laws of time and space. When I lost Dingo, I actually made up a little scenario in my head called "Dingo Transcends Time and Space" to make myself feel better - I pictured my wonderful dog zapping back and forth through time and doing things like hanging out with me while I was a kid. : ) Kind of silly, I know, but it made me feel a little bit better. : )

And Gretta's Mom, thank you for your beautiful affirmation of my love for Ollie - reading what you wrote is helping my guilt issues a lot. And what a good reminder that faith is a choice - I used to think more like this when I was younger and listened to my heart more than my brain - it's probably time to kick my brain to the curb again, at least for a while. : )

Thank you both again so much. I am in awe of the wonderful people here on this site. I have read both of your stories in older threads and am so grateful and humbled that both of you are so giving to so many people in the midst of your own tremendous losses. Your babies all sound incredibly special, and it is so comforting to have found others who understand so completely what I'm going through.

Love,
Terri

[sad]

Hi Terri
I lost my kitty 2 years ago and I can really identify with what you are saying since kidney failure was a big part of his problems as well. And I know how it feels to think back to "should I have done this differently or done that or not done something else." I think we all have those thoughts. And I know how tired you can get with all the stress and worry and caregiving-I never really relaxed once I found out he had kidney problems-I always was worried things might get worse at any time. Your Ollie sounds like he was such a love in spite of his sickness. My cat was the same way, always patient and never in a bad mood no matter how sick he was. I know what you mean about having him in your life taught you so much since I feel the same way. I only hope I can be as kind and good natured as my cat was. I know how much you must be hurting right now and you would do anything to have him with you healthy and well. Unfortunately, even with everything you did, and you did so much, at 16 years they become more fragile and less able to rebound and he just could not recover even with all the excellent care you gave him. And you cared for him literally his whole life. I know how awful it is to watch your baby get so sick and feel so helpless when the end is near. But he is no longer sick and suffering and I hope you can soon find some comfort in some of the happy memories you have of Ollie. I am so very sorry for your loss.

[Ollie's Mama]

Hi Terri
I lost my kitty 2 years ago and I can really identify with what you are saying since kidney failure was a big part of his problems as well. And I know how it feels to think back to "should I have done this differently or done that or not done something else." I think we all have those thoughts. And I know how tired you can get with all the stress and worry and caregiving-I never really relaxed once I found out he had kidney problems-I always was worried things might get worse at any time. Your Ollie sounds like he was such a love in spite of his sickness. My cat was the same way, always patient and never in a bad mood no matter how sick he was. I know what you mean about having him in your life taught you so much since I feel the same way. I only hope I can be as kind and good natured as my cat was. I know how much you must be hurting right now and you would do anything to have him with you healthy and well. Unfortunately, even with everything you did, and you did so much, at 16 years they become more fragile and less able to rebound and he just could not recover even with all the excellent care you gave him. And you cared for him literally his whole life. I know how awful it is to watch your baby get so sick and feel so helpless when the end is near. But he is no longer sick and suffering and I hope you can soon find some comfort in some of the happy memories you have of Ollie. I am so very sorry for your loss.

Hi, sad. Thank you so much for your caring message - it means a lot to me. I am so sorry for the loss of your kitty and that you also had to go through the awful experience of dealing with kidney failure. Thank you so much for sharing your story with me to help me.

I totally know what you mean about never relaxing once you found out about your kitty's kidney problems - I was exactly the same way. My husband accurately describes me as being on "high alert" for almost three years. I would do it all again in a heartbeat, but it was definitely a painful experience always worrying and wondering when things would get worse. The only bright side - a significant one, though - is that I was able to take great care to spend a lot of time with him since I never knew how much time I had left, and I'm sure you did the same. Unfortunately, that also makes losing them hurt a lot, too.

Your kitty sounds a lot like Ollie was - no matter what we had to do to him in terms of treatments, he was always happy, patient, and 100% trusting. He'd purr with the 18-gauge sub-q needle in his neck! I also only hope to be as kind and sweet as he was.

You made a good point that at 16 cats are pretty fragile...I had kind of forgotten that fact because Ollie had pulled through so many harrowing incidents during his life, and I kept expecting him to pull off miracle after miracle. Thank you so much for helping me work through my guilt, and thank you again for your very kind message - I really, really appreciate it.

Love,
Terri

[Ollie's Mama]

Here are some photos of my babies. Ollie is the buff-colored, long-haired kitty; Pooky is the black-and-gray tabby; and Dingo is the handsome doggie.

I know I've mostly been talking about Ollie because his loss has been so recent, but I loved Dingo like crazy, too, and I really flipped out when I lost him nine months ago. I think my heart has been forced to compartmentalize the two losses so I don't go insane thinking about both. I was still crying about Dingo when I lost Ollie.

Thank you for your caring - you are all wonderful people.

Love,
Terri

[Gretta's Mom]

Hi Terri
What exquisite picture of your three fur-babies! They're all maximum adorable. With those eyes, You can tell that Dingo was one of your spirit animals. Ollie, too. Now you and your kitty have each other and are always looking around for the missing ones. I can't imagine yow hard that must be. Sometimes all you can do is breathe in and breathe out. And just sit and endure the pain. It must be doubly hard for you, losing two parts of your soul. And when you have to do something "normal" like go to work, you have to put on that public face, that mask and grit your teeth and walk through the tasks that seem so meaningless compared to the storm going on in your heart. Heartache-type pain doesn't last always. Even in the depths, there are small times when you "come up for air" - go to the kitchen and get a glass of water, robot-walk out to get the mail. Those a-little-less-crushing times will get a little longer each day. Sometimes they're replaced by numbness, sometime by something else. But always know that your Dingo and Your Ollie are up there in that perfect world, takinging care of you just like they always did. (It's a crazy little habit, but I try not to use the past tense [She was a chocolate lab.] when I talk or write or think about Gretta. It helps me keep confidence that she IS. I just can't see her or hear her of hug her like before. But I know she sends me things to help me get through this and learn the lessons I'm supposed to learn - like I'm a WHOLE lot stronger than I thought, and that grief is NOT the same as depression.

Terri, thanks so much again for posting the pictures. If you don't mind I'm going to add them to my "spirit animals" photo gallery. Just to remind myself when I need it that there are so many spirit animals carrying around so many people's souls, just waiting for them to pass into the next world. Can you imagine all the tail wagging and delighted barking and jumping around there's going to be when that happens!

Have the best day you can, Terri.

Gretta's mom

[moon_beam]

Hi, Terri, just being able to get caught up on how you're doing. Thank you so very much for sharing pictures of your precious Ollie, Dingo, and Pooky with us. What precious furkids you have. And yes, Dingo and Ollie are still and will FOREVER be yours.

I understand what you mean when you say you have "compartmentalized" your losses of Dingo and Ollie. In July 2009 my beautiful baby girl Abbygayle (see Abbygayle's Journey if you'd like) was diagnosed with end stage Fibrosarcoma. My handsome Oslo (see Oslo if you'd like) was in declining health with multiple health issues. In September 2009 he was diagnosed with Adenocarcinoma of a salivary gland in his neck. On November 29, 2009, the Sunday of the Thanksgiving weekend, my Oslo joined the angels from suffering a stroke. Less than 4 months later my beautiful Abbygayle joined the angels, March 15, 2010. I grieved for Oslo but a big part of me had to suppress it in order to stay focused on Abbygayle's needs, and those of her sibling brother Noah. When Abbygayle joined the angels, it truly broke my heart, not just for me but for my precious little Noah, too, because he is now the sole survivor in a household that used to have four furkids (his big adopted kitty brother Eli joined the angels in December 2006).

Enduring multiple losses so close together is very devastating, and prolongs the deep grief journey. Our minds do have natural defense mechanisms to protect us from becoming so very overwhelmed with grief. These defense mechanisms allow us to travel our grief journey in our own time and in our own way so that eventually - - as our grief eases - - we can find ourselves smiling once again with a cheerful heart when we think of our beloved companions. And this is what our beloved companions want for us - - they want us to be happy as we continue with our earthly journey with the comforting reassurance that they are forever with us in our hearts and memories - - that they are continuing to share our earthly journey just as they always have and always will. For love is enduring, and nothing and no one can ever take away or diminsh the eternal love bond we share with our beloved companions.

Terri, thank you again so very much for sharing your precious Ollie, Dingo, and Pooky with us. I hope today is being kind to you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Terri, and will look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

[Ollie's Mama]

Hi, Gretta's Mom and moon_beam. Thank you both so much for your messages - the last couple of days have been especially rough, and your words of caring and encouragement meant a lot to me. Gretta's Mom, thank you for your kind words about my babies - I would be totally honored if you would add them to your photo gallery. : ) Dingo was a saint, just the sweetest and gentlest dog ever - today when I walked by his photo on my nightstand, I could totally picture him telling me that he's taking care of Ollie - I could almost feel him saying, "Don't worry, Mama - I got this!"

"Robot-walk" is the perfect word to describe how I've been in between crying. Little things hurt so much. For example, the weather got a little bit cooler yesterday, something I normally like, but instead it cut me like a knife...I started thinking that cold weather was always cozy because Ollie and I would sit on the couch a lot with a blanket wrapped around us, and now the weather would just be...cold. I cried when I turned on my electric blanket because I always used to turn it on to warm the bed for Ollie after he got his fluids - he was always a little bit cold after getting them, so I'd turn on the blanket, hop into bed, and wait for my husband to bring me Ollie to cuddle until he got nice and warm again.

moon_beam, thank you so much for sharing about your Abbygayle and Oslo. I am so sorry that you and little Noah had to go through two such devastating losses so close together. I completely identified with what you said about the compartmentalization - thank you so much again for sharing your experience. Pooky is doing okay, but a couple of nights ago, she suddenly started frantically looking for her brother, sniffing and pawing at every place he had been on his last day home. It broke my heart.

I had to take Pooky in to my vet's yesterday for some bloodwork (she has hyperthyroidism), and I was able to talk to the vet a little about Ollie. She told me that there was nothing more I could have done and that he had survived with CRF a lot longer than most of the other kitties she'd seen. It was reassuring to hear that (sad to hear about the other CRF kitties that didn't survive as long, though), but as my husband reminded me before I spoke with her, no piece of knowledge or information will lessen the pain of missing Ollie, which is what everything boils down to. And, oh, man, do I miss my little one...

Thank you both again for reaching out to me. You have both helped me so much, and I am so grateful.

Love,
Terri

[moon_beam]

Hi, Terri, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. Unfortunately your husband is right - - when our hearts are aching in grief there are no adequate words - - be they of reason or comfort - - that can take away the emptiness we are feeling in our hearts and lives. The good news is that as the grief eases - - you will begin to smile again when you think of your precious Ollie, and the ache of emptiness that consumed your heart in grief will be filled with the warmth of your Ollie's sweet Living Spirit - - for he is always a heartbeat close to you.

Terri, I hope today is being kind to you, your sweet Pooky, and your husband. Please know you each of you are in my thoughts and prayers, Terri, and look forward to knowing how each of you are doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

[leejaye]

Dear Terri, I am so sorry for your loss (how inadequate those words seem), I lost my Mischief cat just over a month ago, she was diagnosed with cancer a year ago and the cancer meds destroyed her kidneys, i spent the last week with her desperately giving sub q fluids and syringe feeding but we just couldn't get there - i know what you mean about functioning on high alert, I was lucky enough to be able to care for her for the last year but whilst i loved the time with her it was always tinged with an undercurrent of worry, like your kitty, she was so good and uncomplaining - even though my vet told me it was the exact right time to let her go, not too early and not too late, and that we had done everything we could, I still feel guilt and "what if i had...", my girl was 17 and i know i was lucky to have her that long, but forever would not have been long enough. I know the hole in the heart, the slab of concrete and the robot walk and my heart goes out to you on this hard road, I can only say that you have found the best place to help you begin to cope, i hope the universe is kind to you today.

[Ollie's Mama]

Hi, moon_beam and leejaye. Thank you both so much for your loving messages. moon_beam (and Gretta's Mom, too), it is so kind of you to keep checking up on all of us who have started this difficult journey - you are so good at appearing with a kind word and gentle help whenever we need it most. Thank you so much for your compassion.

leejaye, thank you so much for sharing about your beautiful Mischief - what a gorgeous kitty! I am so sorry that you lost her and are on this painful road with me. I cried when I read your story and also when I read sad's story earlier. The love the members of this site have for their babies is so pure and complete - everyone has tried so very hard to do the absolute best thing for their beloved furkids, and my heart breaks for all of us that we still carry around guilt and doubt despite this. It means so much to me that all of you are so generous about sharing your experiences amidst your deep pain to help someone else.

Yesterday marked one week since I lost my beloved Ollie. I am still so, so sad but hanging in there. There is still a feeling of total disbelief that I just can't shake - my husband thinks my body is trying to protect me from a total breakdown. I am trying hard to shift my focus from the shock and horror of losing Ollie to being grateful for the precious gift he was to me. It's hard, though. I have spent a lot of time sobbing, thinking, reading, praying, and reflecting on things...but like moon_beam mentioned, dealing with the emptiness in my heart and home is the hardest thing. Weird things really freak me out. We went to Target for supplies like paper towels like we always do, and I thought, "When we come home from Target, Ollie won't be there," and I burst into tears. I cry for all of the moments together that we aren't going to have. We seriously spent almost every minute with Ollie, so his absence is overwhelming. My husband said, "I can't describe it too well, but his absence is just so physically enormous - it's like a whole room in our house has vanished." I know he feels that way because Ollie was always everywhere we were, filling everything up with his huge and unconditional love.

My heart hurts so much for everyone here. Your kindness and caring help me and lift me up so much. I know none of us would choose to be on this path, but since we have to be on it, I am so grateful for the love you all bring to others along it.

Love,
Terri

[moon_beam]

"My husband said, "I can't describe it too well, but his absence is just so physically enormous - it's like a whole room in our house has vanished.""

Hi, Terri, thank you so much for sharing with us how you and your husband are doing. Your husband has made a very astute observation. Scientific studies prove that every living being has an "energy" that is shared with their family unit - - including the environment where they live. When this "energy" is no longer present - - for whatever reason - - the entire structure of the family unit goes through a period of "reorganization" - - re-defining the "order" of things and routines. And in circumstances of grief, even the structure of the home "grieves" the absence of the physical "energy" that is no longer present.

It takes time, but the good news is that eventually the physical absence is replaced with the "energy" of our beloved companions sweet Living Spirit. It's not the same as our hearts long to hold them in our arms again, to feel their sweet kisses, to look deeply into their loving eyes, to hear them breathe - - but their sweet Living Spirit is their gift to us no longer bound by the physical laws of time and space.

The "angel-versaries" are a challenge because they are a reminder that our beloved companions are no longer physically with us. Each day is an "angel-versary" and some are harder than others. But I promise you there will come a time when the seering pain that is in your hearts will ease, and you will be able to genuinely smile again when you think of your precious Ollie.

Thank you so much for sharing with us how you, your husband, and Pooky are doing, Terri. Please know each of you are in my thoughts and prayers, and look forward to knowing how things are going.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

[leejaye]

Hi Terri, Just to say I hope you are doing okay today, the first week without Mischief if i went out anywhere I kept thinking "I have to get home to Missy" and then I'd realise...the adjustment process is so hard, these furry little souls leave a hole proportionate to how much they loved and were loved, please know you are in my thoughts

[Ollie's Mama]

Hi, moon_beam and leejaye. Thank you both so much for your messages - your support means the world to me. moon_beam, I read what you wrote to my husband, and it totally made sense to him. Thank you for your caring insight. And I know that what you said about Ollie's living spirit replacing his physical absence will be true - it's just a really hard adjustment, as you mentioned. I just want to hold him again so badly.

leejaye, you are totally right about the hole in our hearts being proportionate to how much we loved our babies and they loved us - no wonder why I feel like a mack truck has driven through my heart and left only a thin, ragged edge. Thank you for sharing about your Mischief - the very, very first thing I did whenever I came home was to race up the stairs and check on Ollie (I always worried about leaving him even for a short time because of his kidney issues), who would always be so overjoyed to see me (Pooky would be happy we were home, too, but she is a much more independent kitty...Ollie was definitely more the Welcome Wagon type : ) ). Now I just trudge up the stairs with a heavy heart.

I am trying to stay positive, but it's difficult...sometimes missing Ollie just knocks the breath out of me. I thank God for all of you here, though. Thank you again for everything.

Love,
Terri

[Ollie's Mama]

Hi, everybody. Just wanted to post an update - I picked up Ollie's ashes this week on the two-week anniversary. I was very glad to bring him home, but I just couldn't wrap my head around the fact that it was him in the box (probably because it's really only his shell in the box - but I loved that shell that carried his little soul). I was the same way with Dingo. I put my two boys' boxes together in the bedroom closet so they'd be nearby, but I can't leave them out because I'd cry every time I walked by them (and I don't want to frighten my little son, who doesn't really understand what happened and would keep asking what's in the boxes).

It's been a little over two weeks now, but I still seem to be in shock. I just can't believe that Ollie is really gone. My head tells me that he is, but I keep looking for him everywhere and expecting to see him. Then I remember he's gone and get so sad. The searing, intense pain, sobbing uncontrollably, and not being able to eat period seems to be getting better, but it's being replaced by the most horrible emptiness. I keep having this recurring dream where Ollie and I are alone in the dark in a strange neighborhood - Ollie is sitting in my lap or in a chair in the dream, but he doesn't look like his normal, cheerful self - he just looks super-serious and really quiet and very still (totally unlike him - he is usually a purring/meowing-asking-to-be-picked-up-and-held constantly kind of guy). The dream always wakes me up and disturbs me (I don't know why, because nothing outright bad is happening in the dream - I think I'm disturbed by the fact that Ollie is acting so out of character in the dream, plus it's dark, and the neighborhood in the dream seems really strange and totally unfamiliar).

I am just so sad and still pretty dazed about everything. For those of you who have already been through this (and I am so sorry that you have had to go through this), what kinds of things helped you return to the world? I know I've been through this once before, but for some reason, this journey isn't unfolding the same way as the last one (not that the last one was any easier - it was just different). Maybe the cumulative effect of both losses is making my state of shock last longer.

Thank you all again for listening and being there.

Love,
Terri

[moon_beam]

Hi, Terri, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. Getting our beloved companion's ashes back can be very comforting on one hand while on the other it is yet another physical reminder that our precious companion is no longer physically with us.

Losing two, or more, beloved companions in a short period of time - - or when we have not had the opportunity to fully grieve a loss before we experience another one - - does have a cumulative effect. Eventually our mind, body, and spirit will find a way to bring to our attention that we need to acknowledge a painful event - - and give it equal attention. And this can only be done one day at a time, Terri - - and giving yourself time and permission to let your heart release the deep sorrow. I wish to reassure you that what you are experiencing is perfectly normal. This grief process is not a straight line from A to Z, unfortunately. It is instead one of many twists and turns and ups and downs and turnarounds that can sometimes leave us wondering which way is up and OUT of it. I know it is challenging when you have a family to care for, but please try to find some private time when you can just focus on YOU.

I know I stress this a lot in my responses - - as I will mention it again to you. Please know you are NOT alone in your journey. Grief can lead us to feeling very isolated, alone, abandoned - - which can lead to feelings of depression - - which are not helpful "add ons" to an already sorrowful time. So, Terri, please know we are here for you, with you, and beside you through every step of your journey. We are here for you when the days are good, when the days are not quite so good, and when the days are more than what your heart can bear.

Terri, I hope today is being kind to you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and I look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

[Ollie's Mama]

Oh, moon_beam, thank you so much for your very kind words. I have already read them several times and will continue to refer to them often in the future. You always know just the right thing to say to bring comfort and peace to everyone - thank you so, so much.

You're right - it's a little challenging working through the grieving process while caring for a family...I wear my heart on my sleeve, so I don't really hide my feelings, but I'm sure I hold things back just a little bit to avoid freaking out my family. : ) On the other hand, my family helps to keep me from getting totally consumed by my grief, so it's sort of a mixed thing. : )

I am doing better today...just wishing that my little one could come back to me, like all of us are. I had a doctor's appointment today, and as I was leaving the hospital, I saw some pretty flowers and thought, "Oh, Ollie would like those!" which is kind of odd because Ollie was a totally indoor cat and of course normally wouldn't be anywhere near the hospital. : ) I sort of feel like I'm seeing things for him now, even stuff that he normally wouldn't ever see because he was always at home - grief is weird sometimes. Maybe I just want to feel that I'm carrying him with me. You're totally right about the grief journey not being a straight line - I seem to go back and forth and up and down all the time. At first, falling asleep was easy because I was just so exhausted from crying, and waking up was hard because the first thing I thought when my eyes were open was, "Ollie's gone." Now nights are feeling empty because Ollie and I usually spent the late hours together. I'm sure I'll continue to bounce around emotionally.

Thank you again for caring so much, moon_beam, and thank you especially for your beautiful affirmation that you are all always here for me - I am deeply touched and feel so blessed to have "met" you all.

Love,
Terri

[moon_beam]

"I sort of feel like I'm seeing things for him now, even stuff that he normally wouldn't ever see because he was always at home. . . "


Hi, Terri, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing. You are very right that you are seeing things for him now - - and as you will continue to do - - for your precious Ollie IS sharing your earthly journey now in "real time" - - he no longer has to wait for you to come home from work or shopping or vacation to tell him all about the things you did and saw. It has been almost 17 months since my handsome Oslo joined the angels and I still talk to him as I'm driving down the road just as I did when he was with me. And I still talk to my little kitty of my much more youthful years -- William Ferocious - - who joined the angels when I was about 9 years old - - and all of my beloved companions who have shared my earthly journey since.

It is a difficult adjustment - - one of the hardest we will make during our earthly jorueny - - for there will always be a part of us that will want to hold our beloved companions just one more minute, one more hour, one more day - - one more lifetime. And this is why it is important for you to do what is comforting for you during the really difficult times when the physical absence of your precious Ollie is very hard to cope with. I slept with my fur babies' collars and held their blankets during the very deep grief moments. I still have my beautiful baby girl Abbygayle's collar by my bed and look at it every morning and evening. Noah even gets up on the nightstand and sniffs at it.

Terri, I hope what I have shared with you will bring you some comfort and encouragement. I hope today is being kind to you, and that somehow you know that your precious Ollie is sharing your days - - and evenings - - just as he always has and always will. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Terri, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam