The grief over a beloved cat and soulmate

The grief of a beloved pet

When my beloved cat Kenzo died, it felt like I was physically going to shatter into atoms. It was a grief that was deeper than I had ever experienced for any human being. Even though I believe in reincarnation then and now, and knew that we would always be together, the physical experience was very painful. Not being able to hug him, not feeling the scent that reminded me of butterscotch behind his ears when I kissed him. Everything that was us together and what we had built side by side for 18 years.

When my ex-husband and I adopted Kenzo, he was 8 months old and the fourth (!) home that adopted him. A cat who had already moved around several times in his young life, with emotional wounds from constantly feeling abandoned. Maybe that was our soul contract to heal together. I can recognize myself in the experience and feeling of being abandoned when I look back on my own life. From day 1, it was "us". Kenzo slept with me every night, loved his dad but could never really get to rest and be calm until I got home. So when the day came that we decided to divorce, there was never any doubt from either of us about who Kenzo would live with.

For the first few years after the divorce, Kenzo and I lived in an apartment, which for purely practical reasons was a good solution to get settled and get a feel for a new direction. But apartment life soon began to feel confined for both of us. We needed something else.
However, Kenzo liked to sit guard at the front door and wait for the newspaper delivery man in the mornings, who he growled healthily at when the morning paper came through the letterbox. 
But houses were expensive and I didn't really know what I could afford. At the same time, I felt that it didn't have to be big at all, on the contrary, a small house was more appealing. It was the closeness to nature that was the priority. So when, like a small miracle, a small cottage at the right price with lush green, beautiful surroundings on the coast manifested itself, we both said a resounding YES!

When Kenzo, as a 5-year-old, felt green grass under his paws for the first time, it was as if something extra lit up in his eyes. The smells, the garden area to move on, the bumblebees, the birds, the rustling in the treetops. Life became a few dimensions richer for both of us.
But despite all the area in the garden, he rarely moved that far from the cottage. On the other hand, he helped with all the gardening. As a spectator, it must have looked quite funny when I walked around with the watering can and he followed me closely the whole time like an extra tail. When I came home after a day of work, he always met me at the door and did his little dance, spinning a few laps in front of my feet and then "pushed" me towards the bed, which meant "Come, let's take the cozy blanket and snuggle and hug for a while!" If for some reason I was late home, didn't come at the usual time, then I got a real verbal lecture. "As I've been waiting and worrying! Why are you so late?!" I was usually forgiven after a hug.

We had 13 years together in the cottage. Springs, summers, winters and autumns, with everything that the spectrum of life, everything that welds us together and creates strong bonds offers. From challenges to victories, from sadness to joy. But above all, Love! The obvious love that confirmed: "I will always do everything for you. I will never, ever let you down, as others have done with me. I will always walk by your side, simply because you understand me for who I am, and because I love you."

In the fall of 2019, I suddenly noticed how he started to lose weight, his gaze became dull, not the same spark anymore. He was a senior, with stiffer joints and things were going slower, but I felt that there was something more. Don't we all do that, feel that something is different, but it's hard to take in. So we went to the vet for a health check, which for me was a very dramatic visit with a fairly young vet who I actually think herself found it hard to give such sad news. But the way it was done... Not ok... The visit ended in any case with me being clear that Kenzo is probably stressed as it is from just being at the vet. If it's time for him to forever fall asleep, he should be allowed to do it peacefully in his own home. And so it was.

Emotional tsunami

Just making the decision to let your life partner of 18 years get put to sleep is among the most difficult things I've ever done. I've gone through grief for deeply loved animals before, but not one I've lived with for so long. No one with whom I've had such a soulful deep and close bond. Anxiety, guilt, sadness, fear and anger. All emotions attacked at the same time like a tsunami. Even though I kept trying to remind myself that it was actually the most loving thing you could do for your beloved. He felt content, he was done with this life and was ready to paw off towards the rainbow. What right did I have to stop him from doing that.

So the vet came to our house the next day. A grey and windy day in October. He fell asleep in my arms.We lay nose to nose as he dozed off, while I whispered in his ear all our secrets and how much I love him. I asked him to give me a clear sign in the future, "that everything is ok, that you are with me. Use the barn owl that lives here in the forest to show me."

In my grief, life became quite jerky. Eating, sleeping, the circadian rhythm, perception of time...everything was like a fog. I moved around the cottage, lifted my feet and adjusted as if a cat was still moving around my legs. About two days after Kenzo passed away, I went out before dawn, just to get some air and move around outside. I couldn't sleep and the darkness outside felt more like a comfortable blanket for the moment. It wasn't a long walk. When I got a little further along the way, I got the thought "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?! Go home and try to get some rest." Just as I turn around to go home, I see a shadow approaching at face height towards me, completely silent in the air. A meter away from me, it flies up a meter and spreads its wings straight out to the sides, so I see the pattern on them, almost seems to hang in the air for a few seconds, before diving down again and flying away from me, towards our cottage. The barn owl! 
My sign and confirmation. "I'm okay, I'm here. Now go home and rest a bit!"

Thankfully, I had family and friends around me who understood my grief and respected it. They understood that I needed time and space to find my balance again. But of course, I also encountered, strangely enough, people who had known me almost my whole life and yet made insensitive comments that were really like pouring salt into an open wound. My choice was to distance myself completely from them, and we haven't heard from each other since.

Grief is complex. Grief is also very individual, because we all grieve in different ways and emotions can take on different expressions. A lot also depends on the relationship you had with the animal you are grieving. In a family that has just lost a beloved pet, each family member's grief can look completely different, all depending on the fact that each family member also had completely different unique relationships with the pet Grief is a process that can, and needs to take time. It can surge back and forth in its expression, just like the tide, where a variety of different emotions come up and then subside for a while. The important thing is that you do it at your own pace, in your own way. Because there is no "right way", it's about feelings. 

So allow yourself the feelings and to feel. Because untreated emotions remain in the body. The body remembers. Until you take care of the feelings, and they need to be communicated. Talking about your loss is an important way to process grief. You don't have to carry everything yourself. Talk to someone you feel safe with, who understands how painful it can be. Maybe you have family or friends who have gone through grief at some point and understand the need to talk about it. No matter what your grief looks like, be kind to yourself. Take the time you need, because you are unique, just like you and your pet's relationship was. Grief is actually the greatest proof of a strong relationship and really deep love!
Cherish it warmly.

And if you need to talk, I'm here!