Tuesday, May 07, 2013

The Cat Is Still Dead, and I Am Still Sad

I think that pretty much sums it up.

Oh, and there's this:

The vet who came to the house to, um, do the deed handed me a booklet on his way out about grieving the loss of your pet. I of course promptly threw it in the trash.

Two nights later after I'd put the kids to bed and found myself sobbing uncontrollably, I dug it out of the garbage can and read the whole thing, minus the first-person accounts of pet loss—which I know from occasional forays into the Self-Help section make my skin crawl with their made-up-sounding-ness and italicized lettering.

In any case, it helped. A lot.

I guess I'm not the only person who cried harder when her cat died than when her grandfather did.

Don't get me wrong—I cried when Grandpa died—just not quite as hard as I did this weekend for Turtle. That's just how it is. If you have issue, find your local mobile pet euthanizer (try googling "peaceful parting" or "how to euthanize your cat without having to stick her in a carrier and drag her to the vet in her final moments") and ask him or her for a booklet on pet grief, and you'll see that I'm not psycho.

At least not about this.

1 comment:

  1. For what it's worth: you are right. You are NOT the only person who cried more for the loss of your cat than for a grandparent. My Sam, whom I knew for 21 years - the most formative years of my life thus far - died two years ago. I shit you not: I nearly had to take bereavement leave at work. I broke down often that first week and it only very gradually became any better over the following months. His was the closest bond I had that I have thus far lost to death. I mean, 21 years of living together! I still keep him close to my heart and can still tear up, but now that pain is mixed with a good deal of gratitude and joy.