Leave Zumba, stop for gas. Get back in car. Think about Romy and his final moments on Earth. Silently cry my way home from gas station.
Think about how I need to get my suitcase out for my trip. How there will be no Romy to appreciate the pink bag being back out again because now he can sleep on it.
This isn't getting any easier. It's just not at the front of my mind 24/7. It's still a very tender wound.
I just want my cat back.
How do I know he didn't get to Heaven and say, WTF? This is why they took me to the vet?
Is it really more dignified to not let someone suffer? Everyone I talk to seems to think so. But are we messing with God's plan? What if I get to Heaven and I'm judged as being responsible for my cat's death? That I chose to end it before it was supposed to happen naturally? That I stuck my nose in where it didn't belong. Is it mercy or meddling?
It's been a month as of today. 4 weeks still feels like forever.
I love my cat. I miss my cat. I just want my cat back.
1 comment:
I don't know if this will provide any comfort, but everything you have just described could have been written by me the first time I had to make the decision to let my pet go. The guilt and second-guessing is part of the grieving process, and it's partly brought on (I think) by the fact that it is our own (humane, kind, loving) action that has broken our hearts.
Be gentle with yourself. You will get through, at your own pace, and in your own way.
And hug your other kitty. It will help.
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