I lost my dog on Wednesday.

I’m in the mud too feeling the same things. Yesterday morning I was ready to never get out of bed, to just dehydrate and die. I didn’t move until my whole body was numb. It felt like the universe had given me my reward in her spread out over 10 years, but kept tally of all my sins and unleashed my punishment all at once directly on my soul. It was ash in my mouth and salt in my eyes, unbearable and searing pain. Until my partner came over to check on me because I was non-responsive by phone. They bodily got me up, they made me drink water and eat, they got me out of bed and into the shower. Through all my sobbing and wailing and despair they held me and told me it’s ok, that they loved me. They loved me on purpose and took care of me when I couldn’t do that for myself.

And that’s it. That’s the purpose. The point. Love. Grief is always hovering there right next to love we experience, but would you trade a single moment with your cat to avoid this grief and pain? I certainly wouldn’t. I’ll take this a hundred times over for the love I experienced for and from Mercy. It’s why we do this to ourselves when we bring a pet into our lives knowing every minute of the journey that it will end too soon. Because they fill a hole in our hearts and make our lives brighter. Even though right now it feels like there is no light in the world, you need to realize that it only feels dark in comparison to how much light they brought. It’s like being in a bright room and suddenly the lights are cut and you’re blind. I promise, our eyes will adjust, we’ll see again, we’ll breath again, and eventually, all we’ll remember is the love and warmth.

All we have to do is survive this, right now. Let it wash over you, honor them with your grief and pain, but don’t let it control you because that’s not what they’d want. Your cat would want you to continue to find the light, to find joy, and to find love. And you have to stick around for that, and you have to do it for them. You’ll do it because you loved and were loved and will love again.

The point is love.

It hurts. I had to put my cat of 18 years down last year and it hurt for a long while. But I wouldn’t trade having her as my friend; the end was sad and rough, but I made sure she had as good of a life as I could give her the entire time she was with me. We can’t do much better than that for our furry friends.

Hang in there friend, it does get better with time.

I’m sorry that I dumped my grief upon you people but I’m also glad that I did. You are so kind and amazing for sharing your thoughts which makes this thread a beautify place. Reading the comments does help and I think it turns out to be something helpful to others too.

The grief haven’t get better but I’m starting to get a grasp on it. I’m scared for being so alone the first time in many years. I tried to distract myself by watching shows and playing games. After a while I’d go check my cat to see if he’s ok, before remembering that I won’t find him anywhere. I’m, however, grateful for those sad thoughts and stupid habits as it assures me that my cat will always be with me. And that’s way better than forgetting.

I’m sure my cat had at least some good time through out the 19 years (like the time we sleep together in the sunshine). It’s sad to think that I can’t give him more good things but it’s comforting to think that he won’t feel pain anymore. I think he doesn’t care too much being the little asshole he always was. Fricking cats…

Maybe there doesn’t have to be a point. Or maybe the point is to love and to help. I still don’t have an answer but I’m glad that I asked. And I’m grateful that many of you who have it figured out cared enough to share your answers. Thank you, kind internet strangers.

The point is to give someone vulnerable a full life, with safety and warmth.
From your perspective, time went by too fast; from their perspective, it was a long and peaceful lifetime, they were incredibly fortunate to have someone like you.

Also, there is an implicit assumption we carry around that to be immortal is some sort of blessing or state to aspire to, while it may very well be that being mortal is itself the blessing.

In my opinion, the highest tribute one can pay to a departed friend and companion is to again open one’s home to another vulnerable creature and make him/her family.

Do it in your departed friend’s memory and honor. If you could communicate again with them, you would let them know this is part of their proud and gentle legacy, to reduce suffering on the world - “Look what you did, by being who and what you were for me in life, you opened the door for someone else when their turn came.”

This is what I have done, and do not regret a minute of it.

I am so, so sorry for your loss. I understand how you feel, and I’m sorry that I have no words that can help. Nothing can replace them.

We do a little ritual for ours on the Day of the Dead; I don’t know if it helps. I guess it makes me feel a little better the rest of the year, setting time aside to remember the good times.

I’m sorry.

Do we just live and suffer and die?

Largely, yes. As far as we know, there’s no grand purpose nor reason of being. We’re all just floundering about, trying to answer the fundamental questions of existence for ourselves. There may be an objective answer, however, which is why I do what I can to push humankind in the direction I believe is most likely to result in that discovery - even though my significance is only comparable to that of an ant.

Regarding your loss, specifically, I was in a very similar boat ~12 years ago. Honestly considered just riding into the sunset in search of Bob Ross, at the time. Today, I’m extremely glad to have stuck around to raise another cat who loves me beyond anything I ever thought comprehensible. In short, when life as a whole sucks, there’s respite in the moment. When the moment sucks, take respite in the whole of life’s experiences.

You need https://youtube.com/@Exurb1a in your life. Profound thought like yours, performed with irreverent style.

I think we don’t really appreciate time until we know it ends. Unfortunately, we outlive some animals, but we get to enjoy time with them and doing everything possible to make their life better.

I lost my dog last year, it was rough. My family wasn’t there, I had to go by myself and the vet couldn’t do more to save her, but I was there, she wasn’t alone, she never was. I always watched her, played with her, even danced with her because she was very tall. I remember the first time I saw that she couldn’t peek at the window anymore, she was getting old and fragile and she couldn’t get up, I realized that I could only give her all the love I could, but I distanced myself some days from her because I didn’t wanna suffer her loss, I was afraid of what was going to come in the next months.

After some time, I realized I was being very selfish because I would remember all the love I had for her, but she would remember how in her last months I abandoned her, and I couldn’t let that happen. My love for her, my time with her; our time together was what make some parts of my life great! She made me feel better a lot of times and I always reciprocated.

I think one of the points of life, at least mine, is to make other lives better, that includes to help all the animals I can, even if I’ll have to suffer when they’re gone, because they will be happy all the time they lived.

This life is what we can make of it, with a harsh overtone of constant surprises - some wonderful, many terrible.

It’s that dichotomy between the darkness we grow calloused to, and the lights we find along the way that bring hope and meaning into our world.

It’s hard to face the end - either through our own eyes, or the eyes of those we love… But I think every darkness can be the setting for something else to come.

I’ve lost enough loved ones to know they’re sometimes the only lights I can see in the darker times. None of this helps explain the terrible nature of death, but I think it helps sometimes to know they aren’t truly gone to us.

When they leave this world, I think they can actually end up being more powerful because our minds reach out more than ever to connect with their memory. In this way, we are never truly alone, and we always have a light to carry.

As for the immediate grief, I always turn to one of my favorite quotes on the subject:

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore, trust the physician and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility.

Khalil Gibran

Life is a brief glimpse of awareness between two infinite voids of non-existence. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have a purpose.

I’m sorry for your loss.

I hate platitudes, but I did hear the saying something like grief is love with nowhere to go. The amount of suffering you feel is proportional to the amount of love you gave your cat, so it sounds like your cat was exceptionally lucky overall.

We lost our cat a few years ago. She was quirky and weird and sick her entire short life. She had lymphoma - the vet never even tested for it because she was too young. The day we were supposed to bring her home from an overnight stay was the day we had to put her down, and it scarred us deeply. My work sent me home, I was so useless. I cried for hours when I realised our other cat had stopped eating from half of the bowl they shared.

It sucks. It always sucks. It feels like it will never get better, and it won’t, but it’ll get dimmer. You’ll be able to remember the good stuff more often without the final moments crashing in. It just takes time.

For now if you have to wallow in despair, do it. You lost a loved one. It’s your right. Remember though, you’re going through all this because your pet didn’t have to. You held up your end of the deal, and your pet got a great life because you took the pain of loss away from them.

Life is change. It’s literally the only thing you can 100% depend on. Once you accept that, not fear it, just accept it, you can move on to the great things that are here and now in the present.

I’m so sorry for you. It kind of feels that way, doesn’t it?

Having been in a similar state of mind, many times and also recently: There is more to this, but it’s only what we can manage to make of it. You loved your cat and it repaid itself in multiples, for example. You’ve got to keep giving, but if you do then there will be more that makes it worth it. Just be sure to give love and not hate, because we reap what we sow.

“Just”? No. At least, but we can also do more. Keep going. Choose your own point. Good luck.

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by loss. Don’t let your grief rob you of the good memories you have. Life can be ugly, life can be beautiful. Don’t give up on having more good moments, more good memories.