I lost Beenie and Maude in 2015. The circumstances around their deaths were tragic and I lapsed into a grief-infused depression that lasted for almost two years, though I didn’t know it at the time.
On September 3 I woke to Beenie, who at the time was 9-years-old, meowing in fear. She wasn’t able to use her hindlegs, and was coming over to me for comfort. I immediately swooped her up and we rushed to the emergency animal hospital where they informed us there was nothing they could do. It was an hour or so later that she was euthanized. I remember crying and basically spooking everyone around me. I never thought I would know a day without her.
A month later, on October 17 Maude, who was 6-years-old, died in an epileptic seizure. I was alone with her in bed when she had it. She died a few hours later on our couch.
This is gonna sound extremely sappy and pathetic, but I often sleep on the couch where she died in a strange way to be closer to her. I loved her more than anything in the world and to this day — I’m tearing up as I write this — I wish to be reunited with her. But I know how life works, and how that is impossible.
My grief was pronounced, I lost a lot of weight. I did, however, get better, over time, and I reflect now on the cherished memories I have of my time with the two of them, and try not to focus on the last moments of their lives, which were messy.
We’re all going to face death at some point. It’s the only certainty in our lives. We don’t know how it’s going to happen for us, but it will happen. The final moments are rarely peaceful.
Gus died last year in November in an epileptic seizure as well. I loved him, dearly, but this time, I was ready to be pet-less.
All three are buried at the cottage and I talk to them when I go there. I always make an effort to say hello and goodbye to them.
Beloved pets give you so much love, and expect so little in return. I’m not ready to get another one, yet. I think a little more time has to pass before I’m emotionally prepared.
Anyway, I was thinking of them today.