The Pain of Losing Your Soul Cat: Changing Emotions, Lasting Love

I laid my Skittles to rest yesterday. He had been with me for 19 years. I remember the day I adopted him. I almost walked past his kennel up at the top. He was curled up in a ball when his fluffy tail caught my eye. He was 6 months old. From the moment we met it was instant. He would lick my nose and make biscuits on my neck. He never left my side and his companionship helped me through some very dark and lonely days. He too was in kidney failure. I spent the entire day lying with him on the shower floor because that’s where he wanted to be. The vet came to the house and we said goodbye. I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready and like many others, everywhere I look I see him or am reminded of a memory. I can’t even go to the bathroom because he would be there asking to be on my lap. He slept on my face most nights and since he was a Norwegian I had to make little holes in fur to breath. He let me spoon him at night. I recently adopted another Norwegian kitten thinking it would help ease my pain, but she will never be him. She needs me and I will love and care for her but she is not my soul cat. My grief is profound and I pray for the day I can remember without pain. Blessings to you all.
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Love and Above Cat Club replied:
Iʻm so so sorry to hear about Skittles, Jen. 19 years is not enough. No time is enough, especially with our Soul Cat. And youʻre right, weʻre also never ready to let them go. I can feel your pain and I will share from my own experience that the pain will dull. It wonʻt be as sharp or biting. Itʻs been 8 years since my Cumin passed and still, the pain is there. At this point, I donʻt expect it to go away. Itʻs just a part of me that reminds me of how much I loved. However, please know that the pain will become less debilitating.

And yes, your sweet kitten needs you! Whatʻs her name? Two months after Cumin passed I had an opportunity to foster kittens. I did and ended up keeping the last one that didnʻt get adopted. I thought it was too soon but I just couldnʻt let him go back to the shelter. I was surprised at how disconnected I felt. But hereʻs the thing, itʻs okay! Love comes in all depths and colors, but itʻs still love. And your experience with your kitten also very much highlights just how unique and special your relationship with Skittles was/is.

Thank you for sharing your story with all of us. Itʻs through all our shared stories that we heal in the most profound ways.

I lost my soul kitty, Penelope, yesterday. She was in kidney failure and we knew that it was her time. We decided on doing everything at home as our final gift to her. She was always so frightened by the vet.
I feel like I am never going to recover from this loss. I have never experienced grief like this before. And for the I guess that I am lucky. I too went to work yesterday in the morning before making the decision. I wish we had more time.

Does the pain ever go away? I look forward to the day when I can remember her and not feel the freight train of grief slamming into me. Everything around me is a reminder of her and our time together and it’s ripping me apart.

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Love and Above Cat Club replied:
Brittany, I’m so sorry about Penelope. The 28th was barely 3 days ago. I’m really glad you found us because our community here gets it, they understand. We’re in the process of figuring out a way to come together for even further healing, but for now, I’m glad you’re here. First of all, I love that you gave her the gift of transitioning without the added fear of being taken to the vet. Cumin was also so terrified of going to the vet and I opted for someone to come to us. I, too, had not experienced grief like this until Cumin and even since then, I haven’t experienced this level, this depth of pain.

Here’s what I’ve come to learn since Cumin passed in 2016…grief is not meant to go away and we’re not meant to transmute this energy. Instead, overtime, I’ve become friends with grief. Grief shows me how much I’ve loved and still love. You cannot love without it. Does the pain go away? Well, I recently heard this analogy that I found helpful: grief is like a rock. You put it in your pocket, at first, it’s heavy and sharp around some of its edges. But as time goes on, the sharp edges become rounded and smooth, you get used to the weight and now it feels somewhat lighter…but the rock is still there and will always be there, in your pocket. My grief for Cumin is lighter but there are still days when I can tap into the intensity again.

What really helped me in the weeks and months after her passing was focusing on memorial projects. I had stickers made, I had a memorial/celebration of life card made of her and I sent it to everyone that knew her, I put up pictures and made an altar and put her ashes on top with her favorite toys, I had mugs made and all of this was to have her image around me… in a sticker I added to something I was mailing, to the mug I drank my morning coffee from, to the altar and candle I gazed at during meditation. I made sure her image was EVERYWHERE. In some small way, this kept her alive.

I hope some of this was helpful, Brittany. Don’t hesitate to reach out directly if you need more support. Sending you a ton of love!

My soul cat, Clyde MacFluff died this past weekend, and I don’t understand why.
I thought he had gone missing over the weekend
I was under the impression I had let him outside to roam the property as usual, and something had happened, since there was no sign of him. He always lurked close to home and came running when I called. Not this time around. I spent all weekend sleeping in my living room, waiting for the sound of him meowing at the door. I posted a notification on Facebook after 24hrs, and created a missing poster which I was going to hang around town. Monday morning rolls in, and I discovered Clyde lying dead in my bedroom, stretched out on the floor, partially covered by a blanket. He wasn’t supposed to go like this. We should have had many more wonderful years together. Instead, he passed away alone, down the hall from where I was waiting for him, not realizing where he was.
I feel like I failed my sweet boy somehow, and it’s tearing me apart.
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Love and Above Cat Club replied:
Hi Sara, I’m so sorry to hear about Clyde MacFluff! It’s traumatic when we experience loss of any kind, but especially when it can’t be explained and you’re here without a way to find answers for closure and healing. And yes, you and Clyde should’ve had more years together, exploring, loving each other and just living life together. I’ve had one cat pass suddenly. But I was able to learn later through his vet that he might’ve had an enlarged heart. It was still so difficult and painful. I, too, felt like I failed him and didn’t get him the meds and care he needed for his condition. But what I’ve come to know, Sara, is that we didn’t fail them. You didn’t fail Clyde. You loved him in the biggest and best way possible. If you knew he was sick, you would’ve gotten him care. The part of your sharing that really stood out was how Clyde himself went back to your room and even put himself under a blanket to leave this earth plane. You didn’t have to wonder where he was, he didn’t pass somewhere outside underneath a bush or tree. He passed where he was most loved…in his home. This may not provide much comfort right now, but please know you’re not alone. Feel free to reach out directly if you’d like more support. I know how hard it is. Sending you so much love, Sara and love to Clyde too!

I just lost my soul cat, Coco, last Thursday May 9th 2024. She also had squamous cell carcinoma. I cried when I read that. Your struggle was my same struggle. Coco was there for some of the greatest and worst moments of my life. As well as some major life milestones. She was an absolute joy to have with me these last 14 & 1/2 years. I feel angry and very very sad. I’m not married and never had children. I got her in my mid-twenties and she is/was my baby. I’ve been having nightmares, waking up crying in agony over the loss, still seeing her out of the corner of my eye, and thinking I am hearing her crying. I’ve never had to do palliative care with an animal. This experience was so excruciating that I don’t know if I can ever have another animal again. This was horrific. The pain was insurmountable for her and me. Coco was the sweetest baby cat who would lay and hug my arm on the couch, try to lick me to death, had a little blue toy I named patch the she would go get to play fetch when I would call for “Patch!”, steal food, beg for whatever I was eating, try to run out the front door with me to go to work, and purred so loud it was insane. She was my best friend all these years and I told her every day. I told her I didn’t own her, we belonged to each other. She would give me kisses and touch her little mouth to my lips anytime I would lean to her. Sweet little kitty kisses like you would with a toddler. I didn’t grow up with a good family, it wasn’t a kind or comforting place. So I got to create a home… an oasis with her. And now it is all gone and I miss her so much I feel physically ill, physical pain, and like my skin is crawling. I’ve cried harder over her than I have most humans. It feels like it will never get better. Looking at all of her stuff has brought so much trauma that I have been slowly putting some part of her stuff away every day. It is a struggle and I cry hard over it for that day. I am keeping it all, I just need it put away so I don’t see it. When it came time we did at home euthanasia. I held my sweet girl until the very end of her life. I kissed her head, nose, and paws. I told her she was a good girl, the best girl. She had been a wonderful companion and no one could have loved me better. That I loved her with my entire heart. And it was okay for her to let go now. Finally, that I will look for her forever. I had my hand on the side of her little chest and felt her heart beating. And I felt it the second it stopped and she was gone.
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Love and Above Cat Club replied:
Oh, Stephania, when I read your comment, all the feelings I had when I had to say goodbye to Cumin came flooding back! I’m so sorry to hear about Coco’s recent passing. I remember when Cumin passed, like you, I couldn’t function. The pain, the anger, the tears, all of it oftentimes felt so unpredictable. The emotions and grief came in huge waves and other times it felt constant and like I would never feel anything but this, while there were also times I felt nothing, zero. I used to think “time heals.” But I don’t believe that anymore when it comes to our grief. Our grief isn’t meant to heal. Grief becomes a part of us almost like a badge of our love and something that we’ll wear everyday. Our grief will shift and change and although it sounds like the grief you’re feeling now is incredibly heavy, you’ll get to know a grief infused with ribbons of joy and lighter tears. The level of our grief often mirrors the level of our love and wow, what love you share with Coco! Please take care of yourself and don’t hesitate to reach out if you need more support.

P.S. In case this is helpful, when Cumin passed, I poured myself into “Cumin Projects.” I found the pictures I loved most and had things made – 2 mugs, different stickers, and I even made a card honoring her and I sent it to everyone that knew her. This was very healing for me as these physical items were important to have around so I could see her “live on” in the physical. Yes, the process was painful but it also helped move the energy.