Two Years Ago Today

I never wanted to be someone who remembers death anniversaries. Sometimes it’s unavoidable. This morning it was my first thought.

Two years ago today, I had to make the decision I’d been dreading since he was diagnosed with kidney disease. For over a year, I had done what I could to continue his favorite daily habits, to keep him warm and happy, and to provide some entertainment on his sleepy days. I knew the day would arrive when he would be more miserable than happy, and that in my hope to keep him one more day, I might not notice.

I noticed, though. That morning, he stood in front of the heater and yelled at me because it wasn’t warm enough. He was bony and no longer looked his nickname of “Pot Pie”.

Most people who have lived with cats are familiar with kidney disease. It is too common. I had already been through it once a few years ago. It’s enough to make a person swear off cats forever.

I never wrote for Leonard. Maybe my blog was already down. Maybe it was too painful. I don’t remember.

Getting past it has been more difficult for several reasons–not because I loved him more than other pets I’ve known, but because our connection was different and easier to understand. My own grief was enough, but when my last two cats lost their fur while grieving for Leonard, I knew the experience was truly different.

There were many visits to the veterinarian. Each time, it was the same. Neither cat had physical issues that would result in fur loss or bizarre new behaviors, such as hiding, refusing to enter certain rooms, or refusing to use the floor for transportation. Psych drugs were prescribed. Cat grief is real, and even more depressing because there was no way to talk them through it.

Two years later, I’m still very aware of Leonard not being here. It’s one of those “absence is stronger than presence” deals, which I wouldn’t usually assign to an animal.

This post has no purpose other than to mark the day and perhaps inform anyone who cares that I have proof that cats grieve. I wouldn’t wish the loss of a pet on anyone, man or beast, but if you didn’t know Leonard, you missed a unique soul.