My Best Friend is Dead
Mar 8th, 2010 | By Hank | Category: Uncategorized | Comments | 88 Comments |
Photo by Holly A. Heyser
We buried our cat Paka this evening in the garden, next to a grapevine.
She was 15 years old, which is 76 in people years, but it still seemed too soon. Lots of cats live into their high teens. Some crack 20 years even. I wanted to grow old with my girl, to take care of her. But now she’s dead. I feel like a failure, like I’ve let her down.
Paka had an abscess no one knew anything about, and it was so bad they needed to put her under anesthesia. The vet said they’d do blood work to make sure she could take it, but I guess they did not reckon on her heart, which had had a murmur her whole life. I rushed to the vet after work Friday to get her — I did not want my girl spending the night in a strange place — and she seemed woozy but OK; she was a lot like I was when I came home from surgery in December.
Saturday she ate, took her meds and seemed to be on the mend. But by Sunday morning I knew something was wrong. Paka hid herself under the couch and was having trouble breathing. Panting is a sign of pain, so we wrangled her into position to give her pain medication. Afterward, I reached under the couch to pet her, and she cupped her head in my hand, looked at me and purred. She didn’t want me to stop. I didn’t want to stop. Sweet girl.
What we did not know then was that her breathing was labored because she was getting fluid in her lungs, and her heart was giving out. Paka knew she was dying, and wanted to be with me before she went.
But to my everlasting regret, we didn’t realize this at the time. We even went out foraging for a bit, my first trip since my injury. When we came back a couple hours later, Paka was in worse shape. She was barely responding.
It’s funny how we can hold things together only just so long. We got her into a carrier and swept her to the vet, which is a couple minutes away. I was OK. Calm, even. Maybe Paka was having a reaction to the medicine. Maybe she was going to be all right.
She wasn’t. Just before five o’clock, the vet told us to come in fast. When they’d taken her off oxygen to prepare her for a trip to a nearby emergency room, Paka stopped breathing. They put her on a ventilator so we could see her one last time. I looked into her eye, and she looked scared. I was scared, too. She died on the table, soaked in our tears.
I held her, sobbing, for a long time. We took her home and put her in a box with a soft towel. We sat there, stroking her fur, until the sun went down. And then we sat in the dark.
Even now, I can’t stop sobbing. I am a grown man, and I still can’t stop sobbing. My face hurts from so much sobbing.
Paka was much more than just a cat. I got her as a kitten, just a few months old, from a crazy cat lady in Bayport, Long Island, in the spring of 1996. I picked her out because she looked a little like a cat I’d had earlier named Gomez, a cat I lost when I broke up with my girlfriend at the time — she was a vet tech and could take better care of them than I could.
But I wanted a companion of my own. I lived alone then, although I was seeing the woman who, for a time, would become my wife; Jen was with me at the crazy cat lady’s place, and she chose a cat she named Savannah, because she looked like a cheetah. I named my little cat Paka, which means “cat” in Swahili. I actually named her Paka Potea, which is a Swahili pun. “Pata potea” means the same thing in Swahili as “so-so” does in English. I tell you this because that’s the origin of our other name for her — Tater — which comes from Holly calling her Paka Potato. Funny how we give our loved ones lots of little names.
For years, it was Paka who greeted me when I came home from work every night. For years, it was just me and her. Like butter and bread. I fed her everything and anything, especially fish bits. I was fishing a lot at the time, and Paka got all the stray parts. Of the three cats we live with, Paka was the only one who ate fish. She might have gotten a little rotund — OK, a lot rotund — but she was Falstaffian in her loves. Lots of food, lots of love and lots of sunshine.
Photo by Holly A. Heyser
Every morning I had to find where the sun would hit and make sure some fell on the floor for Paka to pick up and play with. She’d roll back and forth for a while, then sleep purring for hours.
I have hundreds of stories about her, but the best is that of our journey from Virginia to Minnesota. Holly had left some months before, and I packed all my belongings into a U-Haul truck and set Paka in a carrier on the passenger seat, facing me. It was a 1,200-mile journey that was about to be made longer: The power steering gave out in Hagerstown, Maryland, and with it the air-conditioning. It was July.
Add to this the unhappy coincidence that every goddamn hotel between Ohio and Illinois was booked up, and you have a recipe for a cranky man and a cranky kitty. We drove through, non-stop, with only an hour’s nap break on the side of a road in Indiana somewhere. But Paka was a gamer. After an initial bout of yowling, she just sat there and looked at me, mile after mile. Every now and again she’d stick her paw out to touch my right arm. She was the sweetest cat ever.
By the time we reached St. Paul I was exhausted, and so was kitty. When we reached the apartment, I threw myself on the bed to sleep — and Paka hid underneath. When I finally woke up, I could hear her purring.
I’ve known a lot of cats. Most are nice, but a little aloof. Our pretty tuxedo princess Harlequin is a lovely cat, but she comes and goes as she pleases and could do quite well by herself outside; Harlequin is more of a colleague than a pet. And little Giblet is very much Holly’s kitty: They dote on each other all day long. No cat was ever like Paka. She came when I called. She knew her name. She knew to never wake me up in the morning. She’d eat anything.
All she wanted was food, water, and to be near me. And now she’s dead.
I know some of you are wondering how it is that I can be so wrecked by the death of one animal when I hunt to kill other animals. Is it a contradiction? Maybe. But I am in no place to coldly analyze it now.
All I feel is hollow, gutted. I was forced to sit for a day on jury duty, and while I was not called, I was surrounded by wretched examples of humanity: Clucking hens. Manipulative, wife-beating, white-trash lowlifes. Mad, Jesus-howling black men with Bibles and accusing looks. I’d give a hundred of their miserable lives to hold Paka one last time, to feel her warmth, to see contentment in her eyes, and to hear her purr, that Harley Davidson purr of hers. It will stay with me forever.
We decided to bury Paka next to the grapevine. It is in a corner of the garden, in a place I can see if I look out my kitchen window. And it is in the sunshine. Paka loved sunshine.
I will miss you, my sweet. I love you. Goodbye.
Photo by Holly A. Heyser
Holly loved Paka very much, too. Here is her sweet story of our sweet kitty.
i’m leaving you this comment with tears streaming down my face. i lost my cat charlie (who has been a part of my family since i was a teenager – he outlived both of my parents) at the end of december. i lost my cat floyd last Monday. i know your pain. i really do.
your grief over your loss makes sense to me…even in the contradiction of being someone that hunts. paka – like all of us who have pets – was a part of your family. your life. your routine. they become a part of you and it’s a huge loss.
i know the words mean little right now but i hope you find solace – as i have done – in knowing that people out there in the world (those that know you in RL and those who know you from your blog) are thinking of you and sending you hope and thoughts of healing and peace. you cared for her dearly and gave an animal a good life – something many people don’t/can’t do. she is still with you, even if it’s not in body.
- t*
What a wonderful tribute to Paka! She looks like she was a dear, sweet member of your family. You are very lucky to have had each other.
take good care,
@tildatoo
I’m so sorry. Fuzzy was my best friend, who passed away in 2008 when she was 18 years old. My brother’s friend found her when he almost stepped on her when she was a few days old. She was with me through almost every life stage possible. I will always miss her.
Hank I am so moved by this entry. I saw your tweet this morning and was immediately crestfallen for you. Little did I know that my Rosie, a relentless mutt of ten years, would be put down this afternoon. Losing a pet has got to be one of the worst feelings imaginable.
I’m right with you with the tears. Wishing there was more we could do, something else we could have done. My Rose was laden with tumors, one so bad that we think it was pressing into her lung. She was panting as well and it was definitely a sign of pain, and not because it was hot. It’s March in Cleveland for crying out loud.
Saturday she was wonderful, almost her old self. Sunday, she was restless and out of character. Sadly, it was time.
My condolences to you. I feel your pain. Nothing can replace the loyal love of a Paka or a Rosie. On time will heal.
Well, I’m in tears. I’m so sorry to read about your loss.
I’ve got two fifteen year old cats, and one of them (my heart kitty) had to have dental surgery a few months ago. I was terrified that something would happen. Anesthesia is always a risk, but more so to a senior pet. Beakman pulled through without a problem. But I watched him like a hawk for several days.
I also lost a wonderful cat to cardiomyopathy. Same symptoms as you describe. And I had no idea what was going on. That was before Taurine deficiency in cat kibble was recognized as a cause of cardiomyopathy. I’ll always remember the panicked trip to the emergency vet. She died in my arms on the way there.
When we bring a pet into our lives, we know that we’ll probably outlive them. But it never gets any easier to let them go. You did everything you could to care for Paka. And over time, your intense grief will give way to a wistful smile, and you will be able to think of her, and remember the good times. You’ll watch a new kitten savor a fish bit, and smile. And say – “Remember when…?”
“And the wind was her spirit
Running free through the grass
Whispering warm in our ears
“don’t you grieve”…”
Garnet Rogers.
*HUG* I’m not sure what else to say except, I’m sorry. I’ve lost a pet too and it’s the worst feeling ever as they really are family as much as any human. If anything, all I want to do now is go spend some time with my babies and cherish all the time I still have with them. Thank you so much for sharing this, Hank.
*hugs*
so rough.
You’re beautiful Paka reminds me in so many ways of my most loving grey Gandalf, who I lost a few years ago on the same weekend that Lord of the Rings opened and Gandalf the wizard was lost to the Balrog. I share the pain of your loss and the joy of your years of companionship with your beloved kitty. My deepest sympathies for your loss.
A beautiful, moving eulogy for your beloved Paka. Thank you for sharing your Paka! My condolences to you, Hank, and Holly.
And can it be that in a world
so full and busy,
the loss of one creature
makes a void in any heart,
so wide and deep that nothing
but the width and depth of eternity
can fill it up!
~Charles Dickens
What a beautiful, heart wrenching tribute. They are remarkable creatures, aren’t they? Many hugs to you and Holly.
Hank, that’s a beautiful tribute to your furry little buddy. I have three cats of my own, all so special in their own way, and I’ve lost more than a few pets in the past. I won’t get into long stories but I truly understand what you’re going through and my heart goes out to you. Our friends, furry or not, are never forgotten.
I have three furkids here that will get an extra hug from me before bedtime tonight.
My condolences,
Mitch
Dear Hank,
I celebrate you and Paka tonight and the transcendent relationship you clearly shared. You were both fortunate to have been put in one another’s paths, and to have shared such a full rich life together. She’s left an indelible mark on your heart–the way that only a great love can.
Following is one of my favorite quotes from a kindred spirit:
“People may surprise you with unexpected kindness. Dogs have a depth of loyalty that often we seem unworthy of. But the love of a cat is a blessing, a privilege in this world.” – Kinky Friedman
With warmth and compassion,
Cecilia Nasti
Hank – I am so so sorry for your loss. It’s a pain we all know we will bear someday and yet we hope beyond hope that day will never come.
I LOVE that you have a friend who would quote Kinky Friedman at a time like this. I can only hope that some humans can bring you comfort in a time like this.
Peace to Paka.
I’m so sorry for the loss of your cat Paka, it’s like losing a member of the family. I think it’s worse, they love you unconditionally and are great companions. I’m sobbing with you. My heart goes out to you.
I *knew* when I started reading this, I’d be in tears by the end, and so I am. Losing a good animal friend is too hard — my sympathies to you both. (Love the clip!)
Sorry for your loss. Don’t ever tell yourself that you should feel less–mourn her as she deserves to be mourned. Love is love.
I hardly ever comment, but I’m a loyal reader. My thoughts are with you, Hank. You did the best you could for her at the time, and that’s all you can do – please don’t beat yourself up with might-have-beens. And please share more Paka stories when you feel ready to – she sounds like an awesome cat.
Dammit, now I’m crying too.
I am so sorry for your loss. It is so hard being a pet owner (I really think they own US) but Paka sounded like a very nice Kitty. And she was a looker. I have had the unfortunate “honor” to bury a number of animals over the past two years, most recent Our chocolate lab, Topaz. When you take in older unadoptable animals that is the price you pay though.
Just be thankful you got Paka and knew what she wanted – a sunny spot, good food, and a loving human to be with her. I know she is thankful.
We lost our beloved Miles in 2008 after nursing him back from liver damage, only for his heart to go out and like Paka, his lungs fill with liquid. I don’t know that I have cried as hard as I did the morning we put him down. He was my buddy – going everywhere I go and purring like a beasty whenever I so much as looked at him. Without a doubt I’d trade his life back for any of the losers I encounter on a near daily basis. Sometimes you just need a best friend who loves you no matter what and vice versa. Based on your story of Paka’s life I have no doubt she knew she was loved and loved you right back.
I lost my Zebra last Fall. I only wish I could have held him more. I feel your pain, you did your best for her at all times. Your sweet Paka joins many other sweet much-loved pets on the other side. (and she looks like my Grady did)
I’m in tears from reading this – I’m so sorry for your loss.
I’ve grown up with animals, and have faced the loss of many. They are family, and it hurts that bad. Like family, all you can do is love and care for them. That’s what its all about. I moved cross country with my cat Jake – the idea of losing him someday is unbearable.
My sympathies to you.
I am so sorry for your loss. Pets *are* family. I had lost a dog that I had known since I was young – he had died when I had reached the beginning of high school. Needless to say it took me some time to heal.
I currently own a cat and I would be very heart broken if anything happened to him. Again, I am so sorry for your loss.
She will always remain in your heart…And will be with you in spirit.
My thoughts and condolences are with you.
I too am sobbing reading your post and although nothing will take away your pain or dry your tears I’m gonna tell you my lil tale too.
My girl died a little over 2 years ago and I still cry when I think of her, I honestly never thought I would stop at the time. We have had loads of cats through my life but she came into my life when I was injured badly after an RTA and didn’t leave me (21 years later) till I was happy in life.
2 weeks ago I finally felt the pull of a purr and hunted out a new little girl cat who is nothing like my old girl but still so wonderful. I felt so guilty towards my old cat, I still even have her pic as my screen on my phone and I don’t believe I could ever love anything as much as I loved her. Maybe in 21 years time I’ll be able to tell you different..?
Anyways, I’m sending you a huge virtual hug. In the moments of peace between tears remember how lucky you both were to have had 16 years together xx
PS stop beating yourself up over the details, you’re not psychic (I’m guessing?) and she was loved. She knows this xxx
So sorry to read this + having had special cats that lived for a long time, I understand your pain. Eventually though, you’ll remember the good things and will realize that the time you spent was worth it because you each obviously got a lot out of the all too short time you spent together. You gave the cat a good life, and she obviously repaid that debt to you as well.
As I said in response to Holly’s parallel post, my heart goes out to both of you.
So often we wish we’d known then what we know now–that a friend or family member’s time was almost over, be they two-legged or four-legged. But usually we don’t know, we just do our best. You didn’t know, you just did your best. Which was a lot: huge love.
Thinking of you.
My heart goes out to you.
It’s been 10 months since my precious Jack Russell, Libby past away at 12 years. Way to soon. I had her my whole adult life. She was my best friend.
My heart still aches for her. It’s only been recently that I can talk about her without crying.
We are blessed to have had the unconditional love of an animal fill our hearts with joy.
*HUGS*
hank, i am so so sorry to hear of your loss. a few years ago, i was traveling abroad the summer after i graduated college. i had a job interview in the states on my drive back to arizona from LA that had been scheduled while i was away. my first kitty, a dilute tortie named rosa, was 14 and sick, but my parents weren’t telling me how bad it was. i got home from 5 weeks away to see her in such pain, dying from kidney failure on a 3 day holiday weekend. she wouldn’t eat or drink and was so weak. my family wanted to wait to make a decision until i was home, but we couldn’t afford vet bills. on monday, a vet came to the house and put her to sleep in the living room, with all of us surrounding her, tears streaming down our faces like they are streaming down mine as i remember her and feel for you. we buried her in our garden, in a then-empty tree well, nestled in a cardboard box lined with her favorite towel and a slice of her favorite human food, cantaloupe. she had used her lives already with a bout with feline leukemia, fluid pulled from her lungs in a huge needle when she was younger. now, a peach tree grows above her, surrounded with low flowers. i miss her when i go visit my parents, and hug my two rescue girls, torties as well, extra hard. cats are so very special in our lives. thank you for sharing your story with us and may paka rest in peace and without any more pain.
Jesus Christ, Hank, you just ripped my f-in heart out. I am so, so sorry for your pain. I can’t imagine it. Just can’t. All three of my babies, Lily, Champ, and Muntz were rescued by me (Muntz by both Jim and me), Lily I rescued from an abused home and don’t really know how old she is 7? 8? 10? Champ and Muntz were babies. I don’t ever want to face what you’re going through. You wrote a wonderful tribute and I really hope it helped a tiny bit. So sorry.
That’s a true bummer, brother.
Hang in there. It’s all you can do.
We had to put one of our cats down last Spring.
We lost his predecessor after 18 years to kidney failure. One week he was clearing 5 foot fences, the next could barely walk.
It is never easy but they do count on us to do right by them.
i’m also now crying at my office at work- last week i had to put my best friend Chloe to sleep- i’ve had many cats but she was the sweetest girl ever and always at my side. she traveled with me cross country, visited national parks, lived with me in Italy. I have a dog as well, but Chloe was my real companion. I knew something was wrong when she hid from me and wouldn’t come to bed- the next morning i took her to the vet expecting some tests to be done and they told me she had fluid i her lungs and it was time- she was also 15 years old. i never ever would have guessed i’d be coming home without her. my house is empty. i feel for you completely and i’m so sorry for your loss.
My heart goes out to you, sir. I know the feeling all too well, and would wish it on no one, not even my worst enemy.
May her days be filled with warm sunshine and all the food she can stand to eat…
I thank you for writing about Paka. It is a beautiful eulogy. I am crying for you, for Paka and for Mr. Dog (still after 3 years!). Talking about Paka and all her attributes and funny, clever, lovely ways is the best thing to do right now. You don’t ever have to stop. You will always be thinking and remembering things about her therefore she will be with you for the rest of your life. Sob and remember and keep on talking about her! “Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5 vs.4
My deepest condolences. I am owned by a cat too and I am sobbing too as I read your post. I feel your grief because I know how a cat can completely touch a life as Paka has yours. It sounds like she had a wonderful life. I am so sorry you had to go through this.
I am so sorry for your loss. My cat, Biscuit was with me for over ten years. He outlasted friends/boyfriends and a series of crappy apartments. His personality was larger than life and clearly had those he liked, mostly women and those he didn’t, most boyfriends and my mother. When I met my husband, he approved, granted my husband feeding him chicken may have helped. Biscuit welcomed my new husband and his daughters, but always let me know that he was my man.
It has been four years since he passed and we have other cats now. I love and enjoy our cats but I will always carry a torch for Biscuit. A pet like him happens only once and awhile and I am thankful that I got be his owner-person.
Be kind to yourself, in time you will feel the warmth of the sun again.
Swift or slow, animal or human family, it’s always devastating to lose someone you love and my heart cries for you and Holly.
As with the other commenters here, I wish to say, excellent tribute to your Paka. Tears come easily for me as I completely understand your emotions. Cheers to you and yours Hank. Be at peace.
I am so sorry for you both. Hank, the eulogy brought tears to my eyes. I know the pain of losing a beloved friend like this and it is never easy. She will always live on in your heart.
Those who’ve had beloved pets understand your loss. They are a special part of our lives and, when they pass, we miss everything we shared with them…companionship, quality time, the trust they gave us, the humor in their games. We look about our quarters and see their toys, dozens of reminders, and time passes to allow us to invite another cat or dog into our lives, not as a replacement but as another personality that will develop its own history and relationship with us. We are reminded that life is unpredictable, fragile, and deeply appreciated. May you look at the photos and remember only the lighter moments you had with your Paka, and remember the lasting lesson that those creatures you allow into your life will often enlarge and enrich it sufficiently to welcome others.
Best wishes,
Ed Palumbo
Hank,
Nothing to coldly analyze: We feel the loss so keenly because they are not our “pets” as much as they are our friends and companions. And like the loss of any dear friend or companion, their death is a tremendous loss. She was such a lovely and friendly cat. And it is a perfect place for her to be buried, in the sun where it’s warm.
Many hugs,
Hellen
I read Holly’s post, cried, then came here and read this only to cry some more. I keep remembering putting our 17-year-old calico girl down a couple of years ago. It was the only time I saw my father cry, and even now just the memory of him putting the empty cat carrier in the car breaks my heart. There’s never enough time with them.
She sounded like a great cat, my condolences.
I am truly heartbroken for you. I remember a couple years ago my childhood dog had to be put down. To this day I regret that I didn’t go see him before they did. I couldn’t get up the nerve. I am happy that your cat got to spend her last moments on this earth in the arms of people who so obviously loved her.
Hank,
My thoughts are with you and Holly. Both of you wrote such beautiful tributes of your friend; it’s so easy to see how much love you all shared. Be blessed with your memories and take comfort in the love you learned.
hugs,
Teala
I’m so sorry you lost your sweet girl. I know that hollow feeling well having lost my Tiger after having him for 15 years. When Tiger went to sleep, the vet’s office sent me a condolence card that read:
Grieve not, nor speak of me with tears
But laugh and talk of me as if I were beside you…
I loved you so, ’twas Heaven here with you.
- J.P. Richardson
That brought me comfort – I hope it does that same for you and Holly.
I’ve always had a thing for gray cats, Hank. Whenever I ran into Paka at one of your parties, I always stopped and made sure she received a good scratch behind the ears. She was a great, great, great cat.
You will go on to have other cats — that I can assure you of. But you’ll probably never have another Paka. They are unique. Once they are gone, they’re gone.
I am deeply sorry.
Bill
My condolences and best wishes to you. I had to have my one-month-shy-of-20-years-old Siamese put down in January. She had a cancer of the salivary gland and it was time. She hadn’t been to the vet in 5 years and maybe if she had gone in earlier the cancer could have been caught and treated. The only thing she wanted in life was to be next to me, if not on top of me or in my lap. Almost 20 years of her purring and affection. My vet (and a dedicated goose hunter) once told me when he was in vet school a six-year-old cat was considered a ‘senior.’ Now cats & dogs live to be really ancient and that seems to increase the grief of losing of them. I’m crying now thinking about her and share your sense of loss. You didn’t let her down. You gave her a great ’76 years’ of life.
I’m truly sorry for your loss
I’m so sorry.
I’m so sorry to hear about Paka – I know how much cats become a part of your family, and it really upset me to know that you’ve lost a long-time friend. This post has really touched me, and obviously a lot of other people, and it’s a beautiful tribute to your cat. So sorry for your loss.
I am sorry for your loss. I lost my dog Cody, a Border Collie, 5 weeks ago today. He was without doubt the best friend I ever had. I cried when he died and still get tears in my eyes when I think of him. I miss him so much, I hate to go home from work because I still expect to see him greet me. I know exactly what you are going thru and my sympathies are with you.
Hank – I am so sorry for the loss of your friend. Sending you my warmest thoughts, and hoping that the happy memories of Paka will help ease the pain of this difficult time.
What a lovely and moving tribute to your beloved Paka. There is nothing that hurts like losing an animal friend, probably because there is nothing like having one. My heart is still raw from holding one of our beloved dogs when he died years ago. Luckily we have other four-leggeds to keep things warm and wild and smelly and golden. Wishing you comfort and a million sweet memories of your girl.
I’m there with you bro, ( remembering “Big Kitty”) and glad you are doing the important rituals and eulogizing.
You have touched us all with your post and love for Paka and shown that this is what makes us truly human and apart from other species – to be uniquely able to love and to domesticize animals and (if we are lucky) have it returned.
Hank,
I’m so sorry for you both. Losing a pet is one of the worst things to experience in our lives. Pets are so loving. And so unconditional. And so accepting. They love us for what we are, and they don’t judge. I think that is what makes them so great.
I wish you and Holly the best in the next few weeks and months, and I hope that time starts to heal the wounds.
Rest in peace, Paka. You will definitely be missed.
What can I say but thank you to everyone. Your stories and shared grief both for your own lost loves and our kitty that most of you never met make us feel a little less alone.
Tonight was the first night I’ve come home with no one to greet me; Holly is still at work, and even though Harlequin and Giblet are somewhere inside, the house seems cold and lonely. Paka should be standing there in front of me, yowling for her dinner, but she’s not.
I hear the click of her claws on the hardwood floor. I see her out of the corner of my eye. Last night, as I was falling asleep, I thought I could hear her purring. I awoke with a start, but it was only a distant motorcycle.
Laying out only two bowls of cat food will take some getting used to. But I am leaving Paka’s spot open — the three cats eat separately.
Slowly I am crying less. Your comments and stories, especially the kitty buried with the piece of cantaloupe, brought it all back, but it is cathartic. Mostly I am just tired and sad and quiet right now. I’ll get better soon, though.
Hank, I’m so deeply sorry. All I can say is that I’m certain she knew how loved she was, and that it’s so important that you give yourself time and allowance to grieve. Please know you’re not alone. It will take a while for the house to feel normal — the sounds, the way the air feels. And when you do start to feel better — and you will — please do let yourself.
You’re a stronger man than me, sir. I lost my dog about 2.5 years ago, and there’s still NO WAY I could’ve written this post. I commend you.
I am so, so sorry. I have been where you are and it effing sucks.
You have my sympathy.
I lost Bonny almost three years ago. I had gotten her the summer I turned 11 and she was my best friend and constant companion until she died when she was 15 years old. She had been with me half my life at that point. I still talk about her like she’s still alive, telling people who never met her funny stories about “my dog”.
It takes time to get used to the empty space, but be kind to yourself.
Take care!
Words escape me right now, Hank. I’ve been in your position too, and even after about 4 years, I still choke up each time I see my little Scarlett’s dish and collar sitting on a shelf. I just couldn’t stand to get rid of them. She was a little mutt, probably beagle and corgi; a strange mixture, and an odd, but precious little dog. I loved her like another child and losing her was heartbreaking. My sincerest condolences.
Dear Hank,
I’m really sorry to hear about your sweet kitty. You were lucky to have her, and she was lucky to have you…
All best,
Margo
Trudy, my beloved cat is 18 years old and is # 6 in my life. We’ve shared life together for 10 1/2 years, and since DH died 12 1/2 years ago, she is all I have. I moved 11 years ago and left behind a cat memorial with 3 loved ones in a Hummingbird Garden.
A cat can be a child and a pet; Trudy is and it sounds like yours was too.
I’m so sorry, Hank.
My heart goes out to you, and Holly. I miss my first cat, Autumn, still. It’s been over a decade since my mother called with the news that I was not home, and could never get home in time. No matter how hard it was to hold her, I envy you that ability to see her and to say goodbye. Pets teach us to care, and be cared for – to love, and to be loved, unconditionally.
Thank you for sharing her life, and her loss, with us.
So, so sorry, Hank. I’ve been there too. I lost my best feline friend just before Christmas. She too was special, but I never found the words to express it the way you have here, about Paka. We just got two new cats, and as you say, they are lovely. But I’d give both of them away in a heartbeat for one more year with her. May we both find one more special cat to share our lives with in the time that remains to us. I know we’d be very lucky if we did. My condolences.
I’m so sorry, Hank. Thanks for sharing this story – it’s a great tribute to her. Paka really was a beautiful girl, inside as well as out.
Seems like, even though you’ll have many other pets and love them very much, there’s always one that’s just your soulmate. For me, it was the dog I got just after college. It was so much like this relationship. When she died, I cried for days. It took me three years before I could think about getting another dog.
Hugs to you and Holly and Harlequin and Giblet.
Your comment about waiting for Paka’s footsteps made me think of the poem I wrote to my first cat, Max, who died in 2006 – a big, sleek, sweet black tomcat.
Again, so sorry.
I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your beloved fur friend Paka. She will live on in your hearts and memories, and your loving tribute. I share your tears for your sweet girl, and know your pain.
My heart goes out to both you and Holly. Time heals the aching sorrow so much too slowly. When we lost Calvin to bone cancer in 2005, we could not bear to bring another into our lives. It was 2008 before we could open our hearts to another. There will be another that needs your kindness and caring. I know that is not much comfort now, but don’t shut the door to your hearts for too long a time. I have too much tears to write more. So sorry for your loss.
Dear Hank and Holly,
Please let me add my condolences to these. I’m so sorry for your loss, and am crying along with you. Thanks for posting the beautiful photos of your wonderful companion. Hugs to you.
Hank,
I’ve followed your site for awhile now, but haven’t commented before. So sorry to hear of your loss. I’m still beat up about losing my favorite bird a year ago, so I know what you’re going through. I have two cats (they were not responsible for the bird’s death–that was cancer) in varying stages of health, so I’m sure I’ll face something similar in the next few years. Again, my condolences.
Probably should not have read this at work. SOBBING! My best friend Rally died at 15 and your story brought back all that emotion. My parents brought her home to me when I was 18 months old and I never had a better friend growing up – or to this day. And your story was so close to mine right before she died.
Cats are funny things. When you love them and they love you equally, it means so much more because they don’t need it as much as anything else on this planet.
Good luck in your grief. Sadly, it never goes away.
Sorry fella,
SBW
Hang in there. The pain never goes away, it just grows a little more distant every day. I miss my little man too, heart of hearts, the one true thing. Crying a tear for Paka and for you.
Absolutely, truly sorry here. I lost a few dogs over the years and the loss of every one of them pained me beyond belief. I know what you are feeling. It hurts and no words from anybody can take that away. Take care. Time heals.
regards
Dan
My first visit to you blog, and this was the first entry I read. Actually, I stopped reading after Paka died. I feel for you and your family and I am sorry for you loss.
I’ve only been reading your blog for a couple weeks and this post broke my heart. My cat is five, and he is my first pet, and I dread the day when I won’t be able to stop sobbing over his absence.
I’m very sorry for your loss. I hope that your pain ebbs soon.
My deepest sympathy, Hank, to you and Holly. You’ve given Paka a bit of immortality with your words, and then they have been shared with all of your readers and with the people that they’ve told — such as my husband & my neice.
So now she lives in many. That can’t lessen the pain of loss, but I hope it will comfort you in the future.
Add my tears to those of the others. The first thing that struck me about your post was an eerie familiarity in both the wording to a post I wrote a year ago. I lost my special friend last March and in very similar circumstances. He was a little chihuahua I adopted from the pound, and he was (in every way) my best friend.
You’re right. They do try to be with the ones they love at the end. My little man hung in for an entire night just to see me and be held by me. The previous night I had mistaken his symptoms for a chronic back condition he had. It wasn’t until the next morning that I saw just how ill he was and rushed him to the vet’s office, but he died within minutes of my arriving. I still feel horrible for not having him near me that night and not taking him in earlier (despite the doc saying there was little to no hope either way), and a dozen other incidents where I should have been more observant or nice or…just anything.
But as much as it pains us to go through the process, it’s only natural to wonder “what if”…especially when dealing with the finality of death. My thoughts are with you, my prayers are with you, and I can tell you with surety that this will get better. You will always miss your girl, but it will get better.
Heartbreakingly good post.
Condolences,
Bp
I’m so very sorry for your loss….I know you must be feeling so overwhelmed by grief and sadness. She was such a beautiful cat and shared such a loving relationship with you….its really beautiful.
I lost my cat Sophie about 5 years ago — she was only 8 years old and died of gastrointestinal cancer. Horrible disease — she couldn’t eat anything or drink anything at the end and I had to watch her slowly wither away. It was by far the worst experience of my life. I cried for months afterwards. Sometimes, while commuting to and from work, I had to pull over because so many tears were streaming down my face that I couldn’t see properly. Now that 5 years have passed, the pain of losing her is not so bad, but rather has been replaced with bittersweet memories of her, and I keep her pictures all over my house.
And now that the memories have come up big time for me, I have to cry now.
Sending you a big hug,
Beth
Hank –
This reminds me so much of Easter 2000, and the powerlessness I had, when I had to put down my buddy, Matahan Seochael (Scots for Peaceful Bear), a Chesapeake Bay retriever I received as a gift from a neighbor friend in Homer, AK in 1990. Brought him home in the snow, bundled in the pocket of my parka. By the following year’s fall, he was 100 pounds of duck and goose retrieving magic–often because of how we could communicate with eachother with only a look.
…I’ve seen close friends die in combat and have found no difference in the uncontrollable, subconscious, response of emotional pain whether to the loss of a close human friend, or four-legged one…
Even now with a new pup, I miss Seochael dearly and get a little sad that I, too, will probably outlive my year and a half old Brittany: it took ten years for me to get up the nerve to start again with Ziggy.
…Death just sucks; no matter how we try, or or are told how best, to quantify or get meaning out of it–My deepest condolences to you and Holly…
Best,
Cork
Hank -
I have lurked around your site for many months but last night I left in tears. Your Paka could have been the sister to my Dicca who left us just about 3 years ago. She was 19 and the end was not all it could have been, at least from where I am. Don’t be ashamed of your tears, you loved each other and we grieve for all those we love. She will leave a Paka shaped hole in your heart forever. But you will learn to look beyond those bad hours and remember all the good days, months and years that you had together.
Oh, and don’t push away the other girls in your household, human and feline, when they offer support. Even the most independent cat will know you are hurting and try to offer a paw. In their own way, they are family too. My hugely outdoor, feisty Blonde moved in to keep me company during the tearful weeks that followed.
I read Holly’s post and then yours. She was one lucky cat. She truly blessed you and Holly with her presence.
I have always had a cat in my life and I truly, truly understand. glg
oh Hank, so sorry for your loss and your anguish. I think about our border collie Sasha oh so many times even though she has been gone almost 6 years… hard to believe that before her I never felt I was a dog person. Of course she wasn’t a dog but a hairy person as our son Todd used to say when he was younger. When I held her in my arms at the vet (she had several tumors that surrounded her heart and lungs) when they put her to sleep, I felt the life travel out of her and up my arms. I guess I was so emotional (I do remember that I was grieving loudly) that the vet sent me flowers the next day.
I’m so sorry for you. I feel your loss, as I had Sierra-the-Dog, and Kramer-the-Super-Cat pass this summer. I still miss them both so much.
May we both heal and live in harmony.
Bless your heart – I’ve tears in my eyes from reading your tribute to your dear Paka. I hope you find peace.
My heart goes out to you. I know the pain, I still mourn my Susie after 3 years. Not much I can say to help other than my heart goes out you. They just don’t live long enough for us to give them all the love we have for them.
Hank,
Just read this. I am so so sorry. My cat Harold is the love of my life. He holds court over a sheepdog and border lollie (lab/border lollie mix). Three weeks ago Harold went missing. I was devastated. He had never been outside for more than 4 or 5 hours. Luckily he returned two days later just as I was assuming the worst. Pets truly are a blessing. I often like them better than people. I hope you’ll be able to open your heart to another creature soon.
Addie
Hello: I am a friend of Liz’s and she suggested that I read your post after I told her that our sweet kittie died on March 19th. She is buried in our garden and we will transplant her beloved cat mint plant over her body once spring comes and we can find it! Gotta love an indoor cat who dutifully wears a purple collar and leash to go safely outside for a little kittie-kat-high. She was my daughter Lindsay’s cat. Lindsay is 13, Katie-the-kat was 11 – she doesn’t remember life without her. Thank you for sharing your grief – it comforts me to know that I am not the only one crying until my face hurts – I think I need plastic surgery to repair the new crinkles left from crying. Sigh. Arent’ we lucky to have had these delightful animals to love us so?