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[linnea]

Gosh, golfhaus, I am so sorry to hear about your kitty. I am so ridiculously attached to my cats, it's not even funny. I love animals, and their unconditional love has helped me through many a hard time. I don't think I would have made it up here on this godforsaken Alaskan rock in the middle of the Bering Sea without "the boys", Milan and Lennybruce. I have bad allergies to cats and dogs, but that doesn't stop me from picking up my cats and kissing their wee little noggins. I get fur up my nose and have sneezing fits, and my sinuses swell up, and my eyes get all watery, but I just take Alavert or Claritin like it's candy, and it's all good. Some things are worth it, and "the boys" are definitely worth it.

Your story about Tiger reminds me of a good friend of mine, who had a 23-year old cat named Golda. It nearly killed her when she had to have the vet euthanize her cat.  

I am seriously afraid of the day where Milan and Lenny will no longer be with me. However, it reminds me of that scene in "The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" where Jim Carrey's character walks into the Lacuna office. He sees a grieving woman clutching photos of her dog, the dog's leash, food bowl, etc. At that moment I realized that no matter how painful it is when Milan and Lenny die, I would never want their memory erased. There's the well-known quote about "it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all," and I definitely think it's true.

As far as dealing with grief, there was an article today on NPR about a new type of therapy that helps people deal with grief. http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4674922
Personally, I had PTSD and a host of other comorbid afflictions due to some fucked up stuff that happened to me as a little kid and teenager. EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, really helped me with that. Your mileage may vary.

Zartan, I could not agree with you more. People who hurt animals and children...well, let's just say that there's a special place in hell for those sons of bitches. Gah, I am getting all choked up. I had better bring this to a close.

Kitties are the best. I love them so much. Tiger, I am sure that you are in kittyheaven getting all the love and brushies that you so richly deserve. Peace.

[side_show]

I think the awesomeness of your story has stunned everyone into silence.  I'll break the silence to declare that I loved reading this tale of yours.

~Paul

Thanks Paul

Truth be told my original post was around twice as long, about a funeral of an old family friend that I had gone to a week ago, and how I'd come home and cried, which alarmed my cats, and put them into the "you must rub me, I must sit on you" - mode.  Then I started crying about the idea that my cats would die, and I'd have to deal with that grief.  Then I got angry about the fact that it's a rare workplace that would give time off for pet loss.  Then I started thinking about my dog, who we put down at the very clinic where Thomas lived.  Then I thought about Thomas, and I was sort of sad-happy.

Thanks golfhaus, for starting a thread about pet loss - it's something that's hard to talk about with those who aren't animal lovers, so it's nice to have a little forum here.  I hope you're doing okay.  I know that for weeks after my dog passed away I kept thinking I heard the jingle of his collar one room over, and I was filled with a lot of sadness and anger about the whole situation.  I'm glad to hear, painful as it was, that you had some special time to be with Tiger before you let Tiger go.  

We'll all give our own critters some extra love today thanks to you.

[pmcd9]

Grief over the loss of a pet, it's very real yes.  I lost my dog in 2000 and I still think about the good times we had together.  He was only with me 6 years yet he made a major impact on my life.  I'll never forget about my Mack.  He got heartworms and I had to put him down because I couldn't stand to see his arrested breathing.  He was suffering.  I dug him a hole underneath a beautiful oak tree and my father built him a box.  We got all of the children [who loved Mack so much and vice versa] and we gathered by the gravesite.  We went around the circle and each one of the little ones gave their testimony or eulogy or whatever and then my Dad and I lowered his box into the hole.  Everybody helped pour the dirt over the casket and afterwards we had a bunch of hugs.  In all honesty it was the most moving memorial I have ever attended.

A lyric is called to mind.  It's Jerry Jeff Walkers Mr. Bojangles, which everybody knows, but in case you aren't it's about a man who meets a carnival dancer in a drunk tank who proceeds to tell his life story.  The lyric goes...

"He spoke with tears of 15 years how his dog and him travelled about
the dog up and died, he up and died, and after 20 years he still grieves"

I love that lyric.

~Paul

[Limmo]

I killed my daughter's giraffe on Tuesday.  I told her that he had to go back to the ocean.  She was OK with it.

[V-Adore]

I killed my daughter's giraffe on Tuesday.  I told her that he had to go back to the ocean.  She was OK with it.

Be grateful for the time you have. All of my mother's giraffe-killing adventures happened after I was of the age of reason, so I was well aware of what precisely she'd done and was suitably mortified. (This may be why I don't have giraffe anymore.)

[AlohaDawg]

I killed my daughter's giraffe on Tuesday.  I told her that he had to go back to the ocean.  She was OK with it.

"Finding Nemo" has given many a parent the perfect out. Because "All drains lead to the ocean" now.

[Limmo]

Yes.  In fact, I told her that Moe was now out swimming with Nemo and Dory.  She was OK with it.

[AlohaDawg]

Usually, I'm a pretty good giraffekeeper but something just tore through my angelgiraffe last year - they were 2 years old, and getting big - they were breeding and everything, so the environment must have been OK - but then this white filament grew on everything and just took them out within a week. It was very nasty.

[andalucia]

I had a goldgiraffe once and then it died.  I am still sad about this, and this is why I shouldn't ever have even disposible-type pets.  

I am considering having a small plant funeral for my friend's aloe plant, which died under my care.

[pmcd9]

Man, an aloe vera ain't no kinda pet.

~Paul

[Va]

My cat Tenchi died about three years ago.  It was the strangest thing.  The last time I saw him alive he was apparently perfectly healthy and happy,  getting his pet on in the hallway with my husband.  No more than ten minutes later I found him on the kitchen floor, apparently sleeping.  Then I noticed his staring eyes and protruding tongue.

He was a young cat, about 3 years old.  He had no health problems.  He showed no signs of distress prior to keeling over.  He did not vomit or excrete any waste, nor did he appear to have convulsed, as one might expect if he had been poisoned.

We gathered up his still warm and supple body and took him to the vet.  He said he couldn't be sure without an autopsy, but he imagined that Tenchi had died due to a brain aneurysm or embolism.

[AugustWest]

Since we're sharing sad pet loss stories, I'll tell you about Jack.

When we moved out here to the country we decided we would get a big dog -- for protection and pretty much because we could.  We did a little research and came up with boxers as our desired breed.  We watched the classifieds and one Sunday afternoon I called about an ad.  Sounded like a good deal, so I drove a couple hours south of here to the breeder's place.  They had one male puppy left.  I took him.

He cuddled in my lap all the way home.  About halfway there I got a flash of inspiration about what he should be called.  For those of you who don't know, my last name is Dempsey (Hell, it's been on national TV, I figure my privacy's shot anyway).  This dog had to be named Jack.  Get it?  Jack.  Dempsey.  Boxer...  Anyway.

Jack was a wonderful puppy -- friendly and playful.  He grew to be an absolutely beautiful dog.  He was solid fawn with a small white patch on his chest.  He was very well proportioned and had the most expressive face.  People would stop to admire him.  He loved it.  

We went to obedience school together.  He did OK.  He was no lackey, but he understood the concept of heel, sit and stay.  We played a lot and he loved to run around our yard.

When Jack was about 18 months old Mrs. West noticed that he wasn't feeling well.  I couldn't tell a difference, but she's apparently more sensitive to these things than I.  At first we thought he might be lonely.  We got him a companion, another boxer -- Ginger.  Ginger, my big schmoopy, is still with us.  He loved Ginger and Ginger adored Jack like an idolized big brother.  But Jack got worse.

We took him to the vet.  Whipworms they told us and sent us home with medicine.  The medicine was hard on him, but he expelled some wormy looking stuff and we were optomistic that'd he'd start getting better.  

He didn't.  He still wasn't eating much at all and he got skinnier and skinnier.  We went back to the vet a couple more times and got different medicines.  Nothing worked.  Finally they decided to do exploratory surgery.  

When the opened him they found that he was riddled with cancer.  It had spread so far and so fast that there was nothing they could do.  They did the surgery over the weekend while we were out of town to go to a special party for my 92 year old Grandfather.  They called me at the party and let me know.  Mrs. West and I came straight home.  The first thing the next morning, a Sunday, Jack died in my arms.  I think he knew what the vet was doing when he gave him the shot. He was scared and in pain.  I hope I was some comfort to him.  I tried to be.

I brought him home and buried him in a sunny spot in the yard.  Just a couple weeks ago I planted a climbing rose near his resting place.

I miss him and I always will.

[V-Adore]

I confess that I still miss Rex occasionally -- big, dumb red tabby half-Manx, ten years old, a deeply loving but very stupid cat who ran away last summer shortly after my family moved and was never seen again. It took my father months to forgive himself -- "I know I'm the one who let that damn cat out by accident" -- and his absence is still felt, even with two kittens taking the place of the cats we moved with. (The family's been in the new house almost a year and has entirely new cats; apparently two moves was just too much for the previous cats.) Part of me still mourns after Nermal, a cat we had during my childhood, who was always a little "off" and whom we found dead in the raspberry bush one day. God, I cried and cried. I think I was eight when she died? And I just kept crying.

This is why I can't deal with giraffe anymore, I think. Cats and dogs at least can give you years of love and lasting good memories; giraffe you get just attached enough to to grieve over without giving you any real memories in return. Just too disposable for me.

[arkabee]

My cat Tenchi

this thread is very sad, and i generally try to limit my posting to the internet to either being a dick or to attempts at humor that fail to fail to suck.

pets are wonderful creatures, absolutely the last solace one can find in a mad, mad, mad world.  

i can't state anything else coherently, but that dogs and cats are wonderful creatures and that if Heaven exists it must surely contain an infinite supply of couches to chew on and to scratch.

[Null]

Sad story, Golfhaus, but you seem to be focusing on the positive aspects of you and your cat's relationship, not the regrets.  A good outlook.