Thoughts on losing a pet

Ordinarily, I don’t write or read anything about losing pets or anything bad that ever happens to any animals. That’s just me. Neither do I knowingly watch any movie or television show that involves anything sad happening to any animal. I learned to avoid anything involving animals when I was a kid, and my mother knew not to let me see the movie, Bambi, in which Bambi’s mother dies; or the movie, Dumbo, in which there’s a fire in the circus tent (from what I’ve heard). When Disney’s Oliver was in theatres, I had three kids of my own and hadn’t outgrown this thing I have with animals. As I sat in the theatre, and saw Oliver (the only kitten in the litter not to be grabbed up by someone who wanted a kitten) left in a cardboard box on a city street, I had to make sure my children didn’t see or hear the “waterworks” that ensued. One would think I would have outgrown my “childish” empathy with, or compassion for, animals (at least to the extent that I have it, but I haven’t. Sometimes, I guess, we outgrow our inner child. Sometimes we don’t. Generally, I’d be really glad I haven’t completely outgrown the little girl known for picking up the sickest looking kitten in the bunch, but it can be pretty inconvenient for an otherwise sensible, mature, individual to have a “thing” this bad when it comes to animals.

I’m writing this, though, because yesterday my daughter had no choice but to let her long-ill cat go. As it happened, I went to the HubPages forums and saw another Hubber’s thread about losing a pet yesterday. I started to offer a reply, but I guess a whole, long, Hub ended up coming out.

After losing my last cat 5 years ago because I'd already lost "tons" of long-term pets (17 years, 14 years, 21 years, 15 years, etc. of being attached to them and used to them). Then my kids grew up, got their own pets, and I ended up getting attached to them because I spent so much time with them or caring for them too.

It's not much help to say I know what you're going through, but - oh, brother - so many other people sure do know what you're going through. One reason I've had so many long-term pets go is that some I'd gotten when I was around 18 and kept for 20 years so. A couple I'd gotten in my 30's or else inherited when my mother died (after she'd had them 20 years) - that type of thing. Anyway, they all got old within a similar time frame and all died, one after another (sort of - or at least with a few years). It wasn't so much an "all-at-the-same-time" kind of thing - more, just a unrelenting string of periodic pet losses. Although I swore off all pets after my last cat went, I've enjoyed having my daughter's two cats with me. One that's been with her/us since a kitten is her youthful ten-year-old. The one we lost yesterday was elderly, and we gave her a good home after she'd been dropped off at a vets and spent two years living there (roaming their offices but spending nights and weekends in a cage). She had some minor health problems and was around 12 by then, and in the time we've had her she's amazed the vet (and others) by becoming so clearly attached and close after having a reputation for not wanting to be too close to any people. Oh brother, if there was ever a cat who was pampered, well cared for, and treated with affection and kindness by someone like my daughter; this one was one.

Her health problems (thyroid stuff) were manageable until the last several months, got less manageable in the last few months, and then were complicated by a "tumor or something" on her chest. Anyway, in the last several weeks it's all just gotten worse and worse. Over the last few days it all "came to a head".

With this last "business" that we've pretty much seen coming (one way or another), I remind myself and each of my now grown kids (who also grieve the loss) that these animals who have people who love them and are kind to them as so much more lucky than so many other animals (and people, for that matter) in this world. I remind myself each time that we (the living creatures) are all here "on our own terms" when it comes to something like illness (especially that can come with advanced age). It does help to keep those things in mind, as anyone who has lost a pet probably knows.

With my vow never to get another pet, I've always known that feeling that way means not giving a kind home to one of the zillions of animals that need one. I've known that getting a puppy or kitten is far from the same kind of thing we get with a long-term pet who has become well behaved, amazingly tuned into to what we do and say, and have become so much a part of life for such a long time. I just haven't "been in the mood" to take on the whole thing of living through a couple of puppy- or kitten-years before things really settle into that thing you have with a pet whose been around for a while. Childish as this seems, I can't even deal with ever even thinking of going to a shelter and looking for a pet; because I'm so, so, disturbed and saddened to even just know that all those pets are in shelters. I have a similar thing with feeling horrible for pets that are in pet stores or that are in some homes, about to gratefully given away to anyone who thinks they're cute for a minute-and-a-half - only to tire of them once they claw the curtains or sofa a few too many times. The whole thing that goes on with animals in this world is more than I can even allow myself to think about, and I often say to myself, "So, because you don't feel like going through losing a pet again, or because you're like a three-year-old when it comes to even being able to think about what some animals have for a life, you're ready to sign off on the pet thing and not give at least one more what you're so capable of offering it?"

I also say to myself, "Everyone says how it's harder to find homes for pets that are no longer puppies or kittens, but it doesn't take long for puppies and kittens to turn into grown pets who end up still needing a good home." A friend recently had brought home a litter of kittens to "foster parent" until they were ready for the shelter (she volunteers there) to try to find them homes; and I looked at each one and thought, "What will happen to you, Liittle One?" So many people look at puppies and kittens and think, "Oh, how adorable!" I looked at them, feel sad, and think, "What will happen to you, each of this litter of six babies; because the odds of each of you finding love for the rest of your life aren't all that great."

The pets I've always had have always been the kind who are so well behaved and clearly attached and "tuned in" to people, so many times I've had one pet-less guest or another say, "You're lucky to have gotten such a nice cat/dog." It isn't luck. It's love and common sense, the same kind of love and common sense that build nice children who respect and care for the animals who need that respect and care so much in this world. The world is full of people who bring home a pet, don't know how to nurture it and set a few rules so it will be well behaved and want to please them; and then who give it away and try with another one when the first doesn't work out. "Disposable pets". I always think how, if only they knew that it how we teach and love pets that make all but the most severely damaged of them "such nice cats/dogs".

Yes, the price of being "good with pets" is ending up with a pet that's "such a good pet" and becoming so attached to it you hope it will live forever. So, you and the pet become good friends for as long as a pet's lifespan allows; and the price of being, and having, such a good friend is that pet-friends don't have the lifespans we do, and "get to" go through the loss of a long-time friend we've become so attached to over and over again. When you have 20 or 25 years (or more) of living under your belt, the losses of long-time friends can add up; and while you'd think you'd get used to it, instead, you more get to feeling as if you can't go through it once more time.

Based only on my own experience (and it's probably not just a "theory" at all), my "theory" is that when we lose a close human being Nature numbs us enough, sometimes, that the numbness takes some of the "edge" of the grief until we're a little more ready to process it. With pets (at least for me), I've been well aware that "it's only a pet, after all - and it isn't like it's a person," but I think being that aware of the difference has also meant not having the benefit of some of that numbness that prevents (at least to some degree) feeling some of the pain until that grief phase of disbelief changes as a little more time passes.

In any case, the circumstances (and the relationship, itself) involved with losing my cat five years left me absolutely sure I never again wanted to have another pet. It took SO long to get over losing her (and it wasn't as if I'm not someone more than used to coping with grief when it comes to humans; or as if I'm generally someone with an unhealthy "weirdness" about being attached to pets). Besides, I had my daughter's "original" cat with me while she was away at college. The cat and I were both adjusting to not being with a close friend, and over time that cat and I became better and better friends. When my daughter brought in the one we just lost yesterday, the "original" cat continued to stay close with me. The "second" cat was attached enough, but clearly most attached to my daughter. Of course, since she's grown up, she hasn't always been home at all times; and the older cat had really become quite close to me, and trusting of me, as well.

So, even with a few years of gradually getting past the loss of my own friend five years ago, I've neither been lonely nor pet-less since she went. Still, I've been thinking "to" my daughter, "When you bring these cats with you when you leave here, I'm not getting any more pets." I guess the thing is, I haven't been pet-less over my whole life, except for, maybe, a three or four years between a childhood dog and the cat that some neighbor kids brought to my mother with a sad story. I've been dealing with litterboxes, keeping pet hair off rugs and furniture, and the occasional clean-up of cat vomit as a regular part of life for all that time. The thought of not thinking about that stuff - ever - has been pretty appealing to me. When it comes to puppies or kittens (cute as they are), all it takes is recalling the kind of stuff they do for me to be absolutely sure I'm "not in the mood" for dealing with that these days. After all, I just beginning a new phase of my life with grown kids. I can come and go as I like without worrying about who needs a meal or who can't be left alone in the house if I want to spend a weekend away. Nobody's hungry if I sleep late, and nobody's so hungry they're making louder and louder noise with their claws on the fireplace screen in order to try to wake me up if I fall asleep on the couch when I'm exhausted.

Until yesterday, I would have told you that I remain firm in my vow never to again get another pet (and ESPECIALLY a kitten or puppy); but - you know - I've been watching my daughter so faithfully and caringly try to manage her cat's health issues, while also knowing it was a losing battle. I've been giving the cat her medicine too, and watching her get thinner and thinner; or have her bouts of bad days and trips to the vet. Like my daughter, and along with my daughter, I've known in the back of my head that there was no happy ending to the saga of the cat's failing health.

As I sit here today, with so many of the cat's favorite places empty; and without worry about whether we'll be able to get her take her medicine today or what should or shouldn't be done about one of her health crises or another; I'm kind of thinking that after so many months of living with that thread of sadness and declining life running through my days, maybe it would be kind of nice to have a lively kitten around to peel off the drapes, or a lively puppy from whom I'd have to protect my shoes and so many other things in the house. (I haven't had a dog for a very long time now). I guess when it comes to how we feel immediately after losing a pet, there's a difference between losing one fairly suddenly and losing one after a long-term illness. I know that this soon after saying "good-bye" I'm going to be having one set of feelings or another that may change as I come to my senses a little more than I seem to be today.

I realize that in the past, every time I took in a pet it was because I wanted to offer the pet something. Right now, as I think about whether or not I change my mind about getting any more pets I realize I’m thinking about what a pet might offer me. There’s no doubt about it, this particular “little friend’s” long-term medical issues took their toll on me. In ways, dealing with letting her go is slightly easier than it has been with other pets. At the same time, human nature so often being what it is; I’m realizing that months of hoping for a happier outcome amounted, as well, two months of increasing awareness that such a wish was completely unrealistic. One way or another, and “only a pet” or not, it’s never easy; and it’s always a matter of grieving for at least awhile.

Whether or not I’ll change my forlorn mind and at least slightly broken heart when it comes to future pets, I can’t really say today. Isn’t it funny, though, how life has a way of bringing us to one kind of thinking; only to later bring us around to thinking completely differently.

Oh well, what makes it particularly difficult is that I don’t just have my own grief. I know how much my daughter loved her little friend, and I know there’s nothing I can do to make things any better for this caring young woman who so diligently made sure her little friend got the best care and knew someone loved her. Tomorrow is Monday, though – the beginning of the work week. My daughter, I, and everyone else in the family who has felt the loss of the little cat will go about our business (and THE business of getting past the sadness). We all know there’s nothing anyone has to feel sorry about when it comes to the passing of a cat who lived a long life and seemed to, perhaps, have a few more than the proverbial nine lives.

In the meantime, I guess one manifestation of my own sadness has been to “write it out” before I prepare to start the process of moving on.

In the song, "Bless the Beasts and the Children" (Recorded/performed by The Carpenters; writers: Perry Blotkin, Jr., and Barry DeVorzon), there are the words, "Bless the beasts and the children, for in this world they have no voice. They have no choice." One of the most difficult parts of losing a pet is that so often we, human beings, don't have much choice either.