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Heartache and Love: Dealing with the Loss of a Pet
We had to euthanize our cat today.
Apologies for the abrupt opening of this post, but it’s rather on my mind at the moment. However, I recognize that I probably should have put a trigger warning on this. So, here you go.
TW: Contains references to pet cancer and euthanasia.
Fido came to us as an eight-month-old stray, rescued by a family friend. She had been living in the parking lot of a business. I had (possibly naively) mentioned to this friend that our cat, Spot, got upset when I was out of town and the sprogs were with their father. Fido would obviously be a wonderful companion to Spot, thereby solving Spot’s loneliness while giving her a loving home.
Unfortunately for both Spot and Fido, Fido was, essentially, a kitten, while Spot was probably about three. Fido couldn’t understand why Spot didn’t want to play with her all day, every day. Spot couldn’t understand why this young whippersnapper wouldn’t leave him in peace.
Eventually, they established a pecking order, and peace was restored to the house, for the most part. They learned to navigate the joys of a shared household, and they would even curl up together when the weather turned cold, although they never admitted this.
When David moved in with us, Fido accepted him pretty quickly, whereas Spot still, almost a decade later, regards the other male in the house with some suspicion. Fido would curl up on his chest, purring so loudly it sounded like boulders in a cement mixer.
As some of you might know from my social media posts, Fido was not overly endowed with intelligence. There are various methods of testing a domestic animal’s intelligence, and Fido failed them all. She was dumb but sweet, and she loved nothing more than sitting on my shoulder or hip as I fell asleep, or curling up on David’s chest, and having her forehead skritched with one finger.
I’ve seen many of my friends post on social media about the death of a pet. Invariably, they apologize for being “too emotional.” Why shouldn’t they be emotional? They just lost a member of their family.
Pets give us unconditional love. (Yes, even cats do this. It just looks different to a dog’s love.) Our relationship with them is uncomplicated by messy human dynamics; they love us and rely on us for food, shelter, and care, while we love them and rely on them for emotional support, companionship, and a sense of structure.
Yet we seem to feel a sense of shame for grieving a pet. We expect to be mocked for mourning the death of an animal. So we apologize for our grief, minimizing our heartache and the effects of our loss.
Fido was diagnosed with cancer about two months ago. She lost a large amount of weight very rapidly and had a raspy, almost asthmatic cough that she couldn’t shake. However, she wasn’t in pain and was still eating and drinking.
Until yesterday.
We made the difficult choice, and the vet came to our house today.
We were able to give her the gift of a peaceful death, free from fear and pain, in return for the years of love she gave us. She was warm and surrounded by her people. It was, aside from a brief prick of the needle, painless for her. If only all our endings could be as such.
So my family and I will be in mourning for a while. Unashamedly and unhurried by society’s expectations on how long you should be sad about “only a pet’s” death.
Fido wasn’t just a cat. She was a member of our family, and we mourn her passing.
