Pushing Through The Pain of Losing A Fur Friend Is Anything But Simple
You don’t expect the little things to hurt so much but they do
It comes in waves, the desperation, the helplessness.
I laugh at something and then remember what happened. It’s just a cat, people say. Yes. A cat. But also so much more. If only people moved beyond biases, they can see animals for who they are. Each animal with a personality of its own.
Right now, I can think of many quirks unique to my cat, Smokey. Quirks which I might never see again.
Smokey, my boy, I miss every little thing about you. I am afraid of not seeing you again as each day goes by. I am not ready to accept this.
I blame myself. Because if I would have been more careful, if I would have thought through my decision, we would not be here. And yet, when we take a decision, we rarely believe it not to be the best one given the circumstances.
I think of my Oreo, the cat I lost back in 2014, 7 years ago, and never found. Maybe I did not search hard enough. I think of the cats I gave up for adoption, the ones I did not hear much about. The cases I did not look deeper into. I thought I was doing the right thing back then.
Grief will follow, anywhere, anytime
We all process loss differently. It is not possible to stay in the same frame of mind all the time. Of course, I laugh. I smile. I work. I do everything I would otherwise do, and then in between a random, busy moment, I will get a reminder of what I have lost.
I open the kitchen door sometimes. Maybe, he will come back from one of his visits. My mother expects him to be eagerly waiting for us every morning.
Those yellow eyes used to stare at me, begging for food.
Smokey ate from two plates, from his little one and then from Simba and Oreo’s shared plate. Is it weird that every plate I now see reminds me of him?
Revisiting the past, and how it all began
We adopted Smokey in January of 2020, the first cat we had ever adopted. We had lost 4 of our cats before that to death. All of us were so excited to welcome him. Smokey was going to make our lives better.
We found him through a Facebook group. Rafi uncle had rescued Smokey from the streets after waiting for an hour for someone to claim him. A few months later, he had to give away Smokey for adoption due to his diminishing health.
He just had one requirement — the new family had to take good care of Smokey.
Smokey was a perfect fit. He adjusted easily. Now I think of Rafi uncle, who trusted us with his cat. I feel like a cheater. For all we know, Smokey is back on the streets, either thriving or barely surviving.
Smokey was there for every little thing, a constant but welcome presence. He would sit in the most unusual places, the tops of onions and sweet potatoes, and behind the TV near the wires.
During his first few days with us, he followed a strict sleep schedule. We joked about his 1 p.m. afternoon naps, or ‘Qailullah’ as we would sometimes call them. He would go to the storeroom at his designated spot and sleep till his next meal time.
Initially, he was not allowed to go outside without supervision. But he loved the outdoors. All he wanted was to go out. Eventually, we surrendered to his consistent meows and pleading eyes. We started to let him go out on a regular basis, often unmonitored. He was always nearby, inside the boundary walls of the house so we let it slide.
One Friday evening, I left him on my porch so he could get his daily dose of the outdoors. Only this time, he did not return. I was sure he would come back the next day. He never did.
He wasn’t neutered. He was due to get neutered the week after.
Now it has been 3 weeks. 3 weeks since I saw him, held him, and talked to him.
Will I see him again? I think of both, the possible and the probable.
Sometimes there is no right and wrong
I don’t think I reacted to this entire situation immediately. Smokey went missing on Friday night. Monday morning, I had to leave for a work trip.
I was worried sick, had an ugly feeling in my stomach right before I left. My excitement got muddied. But life goes on. I had to put on my game face and deal with it.
My family urged me to go and promised to search all the pet shops and vet clinics in the vicinity. Is it possible to enjoy a moment, feel guilty about it, surrender to your fate, and keep doing what is in your power? Because that’s what I did.
There are days when I am optimistic when I think of the good things that could have happened to him. He could have found shelter somewhere. The neighbors could have taken him. A kind-hearted person could have dropped him off to a vet’s clinic.
That’s good, right? The most important thing to me is his safety. If he is safe, I can relax.
Sometimes I convince myself to sleep with a firm belief that he is okay.
But often right before I sleep, I think of the worst scenarios.
What if he was in an accident? What if someone kidnapped him? What if he’s in a cage with no access to water, in this heat, without sufficient food?
I think of his big, dark pink tongue. He used to pant severely. I cannot imagine him suffering. What if the street dogs got hungry and ate him?
I close my eyes wanting to put a stop to these thoughts desperately. I want to shout for the thousandth time because I don’t have answers. And sometimes, I don’t even have faith.
What if they were friends?
In December 2020, we adopted another cat. We named him Casper. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Smokey and Casper never got along. Smokey was jealous of Casper. Since they couldn’t stand each other, we had to keep them separate. In doing so, we ended up giving some preferential treatment to Casper for a while.
Now when I look back, I think Smokey must have even resented us for getting another male cat.
Male ego issues are real, no matter what the species.
But now I feel that even Casper misses him. Weird, huh?
Surprisingly, people still remember that I’ve lost a cat.
I could be staring at the screen, concentrating on an article, working on a PowerPoint Presentation. And people would ask me casually if I managed to find him yet.
I appreciate their concern. I even tell the truth to most people.
We have searched so many places, lost sleep, dreamt of Smokey coming back to us, talked about him every single day, and about how empty it feels without Smokey. But you can’t express every sentiment to people. You don’t want their pity. Prayers? Always. But never pity.
How will he manage on his own?
It has been raining heavily throughout the city this entire week, and more rain is predicted. I remember the aftereffects of each monsoon season. And then my mind goes back to the animals, to Smokey. He can’t survive in this rain alone.
This isn’t good. I know I can’t give up looking for him.
The little things become the big things
It’s always the little things that serve as a reminder. His photos. Videos. Food. Leftovers. Toys. Medicines. Crows. The garden. The porch. The neighborhood. The spaces beneath the car parked outside. Different corners of my house. Black and gray cats I pass by.
It’s just a cat, they say. It definitely felt more than that.
That’s the thing with animals. Give them one chance, and they will make space in your heart. Animals love you unconditionally. Even if they don’t love you, they are always grateful, especially the rescues.
I think of all my cats and their quirks once again. Simba when he sits on my laptop, Oreo when she strokes my feet aggressively, Casper when he presses his body against mine, and Smokey when he used to nibble on my feet and then go to sleep, there and then.
I still hope. I still pray. God. Please return Smokey to me. Please return lost family members and pets to their loved ones.
I empathize more with people who have lost something special. This feeling of powerlessness, not knowing, and constant questioning is agonizing. It gets in the way of every good thing there is. I feel a crack in all life experiences.
Death is painful, but it brings closure. You miss the person, the animal, but there’s solace in knowing they’re pain-free. I like to think that they are in a much better place.
Out of suffering and death, the latter is kinder. But I don’t have the power to choose an option right now.
What’s next?
I think of the many more memories I wanted to create with him. I think of happy memories gone by. I think of the good he brought to my world and what I brought to his. I pray. I cry. I shout. I whine. But most importantly, I persevere. Despite all odds, I won’t lose hope.
Why do I write about this? I write because I want an outlet for my feelings. I write because I want to retain his memory. I want to document how I feel. I write so people can know. So people can relate. If I can connect with people on some deeper level, I can evoke the right emotions, and maybe then I can inspire a heartfelt prayer.
To those of you who know me, know of my love for animals. To those who don’t, I hope I have conveyed some of it through my words.
I ask all of you for your genuine prayers. It would mean the world right now.
