This post is depressing. I’m sorry.
It’s half past 5AM and my baby is gone. My baby cat is gone. My poor Cookeh is gone.
I feel so stupid for crying this much over a cat, but it hurts. I’ve dealt with deaths of pets before, but am feeling actual, physical pain over my baby cat.
I had her for almost 6 years. That little butt was my best friend through everything. She was my pet and I was her human. Heck, I even let her sleep on me. She never really liked cat beds, anyway and was the only creature that could truly put up with my crap.
We didn’t know anything was up until yesterday, when she went and hid. I had baby kittens in the house because they were probably dumped on our porch. I thought this was disturbing her a bit, but after I fished her out from under the cabinet with all mine and my sister’s cool little trinkets in it, I could see she was sick.
She hurt at the end. She was telling me, and all I could do was tell her ‘I know’ and try petting her. She purred when I did. That gave me a little too much hope.
I feel so awful for going to sleep after staying up with her until almost 4. I did my best, but it wasn’t the best. I was with her through almost all of it.
I’m just glad my baby doesn’t hurt anymore. There’s no more pain, no more suffering. If there is some sort of little kitty afterlife; I’m sure no one there will love her as much as I did.
We’ve buried her. I made my parents let me put her box in the ground. I cried. Again.
I’m sorry. This post is super ridiculous. I feel stupid, but she helped me cope with so many things. I thought I’d get to see her when I came home from college. My now two cats are really confused, and I keep looking over at the spots she liked to sleep in.
I feel so stupid.