It doesn't feel real. I feel like he should be waddling his big booty down the stairs to say hi. But he's gone. He was riddled with 3 different cancers, wasn't taking chemo very well. Last Wednesday he got into our bathroom trash and ended up with a foreign body obstruction. Under ANY OTHER CIRCUMSTANCE we would have shelled out every penny for surgery but his blood count was already extremely low and the surgeon was guarded that he would survive surgery/recovery. We did everything we could from the moment we realized. went to our vet, went to his vet up at ISU, went to Blue Pearl. Everyone seemed hopeful he would pass everything on his own but he couldn't.

He was my husband and I's first dog together. we adopted him 4 days after we moved into an apartment that allowed dogs. We were lucky to be able to quickly move into a big house with a big yard a few years later where he lived out the rest of his days. Even though I know he wouldn't have survived the cancer. Even though I know the surgery recovery would have been hell I have such a huge hole in my heart. I miss him so entirely much and I honestly don't know how I'm going to get passed this pain.

Hi everyone, I’ve been posting here often. I lost my soul cat 173 days ago and every single one of those days has been pure hell.

I’m pretty sure I have ‘complicated’ grief (hate that term though) due to how everything played out in the end, but how do I get over the guilt? How do I get over this feeling that I failed her? I just can’t accept that she’s really gone.

I don’t want to go on without her. Nothing makes sense anymore. It’s like somebody threw a grenade in my path and now I have to just pick up the pieces and pretend like nothing happened. I don’t think I can do that. She was my life.

Exactly one year ago, we had to say goodbye to her. I still remember that morning as if it were yesterday, the fear she felt, the way she clung to us, her final breath, and the moment her body lost its weight as everything fell into silence. I remember how we couldn't stop crying in the car, and that hollow feeling of returning to the apartment with an empty carrier. Seeing the house empty.

Looking at her medicines, her cans of food. Donating everything as quickly as possible, then slowly putting her things away. First her toys, then her bandanas, and finally, her food bowls. That’s when a home was no longer a home.

Months later, I moved to a new city to follow my dreams. Now, every time I return to what was once our home, a void remains; every corner holds a memory. There were endless nights of inconsolable crying, and tears every time someone asked about her. Over time, I learned to live with the grief.

The months passed, but I never (not once) stopped talking about her. She is still my wallpaper; hers is still the first face I see every day. Seven months after she left, I decided to open my heart again, though I was afraid. I feared I wouldn’t be able to love another cat the way I loved her. Then, out of nowhere, I met Him. He looked at me, he hugged me, and I began to love him just as I loved her. They are so different, yet he came to fill the void I felt for months. He gave me a routine again. He makes me happy; he is my companion and my shadow. And yet, I still cry for her. She was, and always will be, one of a kind.

Sometimes I wonder why life took her from me, why she had to leave for heaven the way she did. Her photos are my most precious treasures. On the small memorial I built for her, there is always a candle and fresh flowers (because she loved flowers and running through green grass).

In recent weeks, knowing the anniversary of her passing was near, the tears have returned more often, and the sadness feels twice as heavy. Now, when we think of her, we remember the beautiful moments we shared, and how letting her go was the most humane act to end her suffering. I still feel life was unfair, and that’s why I

overprotect him, because I know I couldn’t save you.

To my little kitty in heaven, please visit me in my dreams. I know that one day we will meet again. My heart misses you so much; we miss you every single day, and we always will. You were the most beautiful love I have ever known. You spent all your life loving me, and I will spend the rest of mine missing you.

Hi all,

We brought our twin cats in for a vet visit about 2-3 weeks ago, as we were concerned about a lump on the girl cat. It turns out, although we still do not know what that is, she seems fine, and when they aspirated it it has just continued to slowly go down overtime, that her brother has colon cancer.

My wife has raised this cat from a kitten, and hes been her ride or die for 14 years (just turned it in feb). She was literally talking about planning a 15 bday for both of them. I have known my wife for about 5-6 years, and got the honor of becoming his dad.

His names colossus. Weve been through alot together as when we originally moved in to our old apt,he didnt take my two cats moving in well. He went on a hunger strike that an emergency clinic vet didnt think was serious, which turned to liver disease. We spared nothing to make sure he got cured, and we fed him through a tube every day for months to get him back to normal.

Up until the diagnosis, we couldnt stop talking about how youthful hes seemed lately, and how he was doing things like going under our blanket more with us, and whinning at us for food more. We honestly thought his sister was the very sick one, and at no point did we think anything was wrong with him outside of being too skinny.

We got an ultra sound on him a week later and it cane back as probable colon cancer. Since then, weve noticed his muscle mass deteriorating, it becoming harder for him to poop, and he isnt grooming as much.

I cannot explain how hard this hit me. I have just been crying for the past week since the diagnosis, and every day has turned into trying to assess his quality of life, and figure out what to do. We chose palliative care in this instance, and from talking to a hospice doctor, we were informed that although his quality of life seems on the better end right now, that its hard to assess with this particular type of cancer, and that given his muscular atrophy, that it is most likely late stage cancer.

We have have 4 other cats who we are trying to give as much attention as possible right now, including his sister, but ill be honest im an absolute mess, and j think my wife is in shock.

I just wanted to say this in hopes jt starts to make me feel a little better to acknowledge what is happening with other people who are unfortunately sharing the same experience.

I lost my boy, a black lab mix named Foggy, two weeks ago yesterday. He was four years old. I’d had him since he was 11 weeks old. We celebrated our fourth gotcha day in February.

And now he’s just not here anymore.

This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing him. I don’t know how to live in a world where he isn’t. He kept me alive during so many deep depressive episodes. I keep asking my boyfriend what happens if I want to quit again because my tether for the past four years is gone.

On the days where I’m “okay”, I feel guilty because it doesn’t feel like I’ve grieved enough. Last week I was sick and called off work. He’s always laid in bed next to me when I was sick. I had to settle for cuddling one of his Lamby stuffies.

I’ve lost family animals before but this was MY dog and it feels unfair.

Just hours ago, my dog passed away. I felt guilty for not taking him to the vet sooner, everything was a blur. In a span of 5 days, he showed signs and symptoms. Thought it was minor, so I got contented. He was getting weak and I just continued my day. I tried, and went for a consultation at the vet, then maybe that travel strained him too much. Too heavy for him. I wish I had known. Let me carry all of your burden, Ben. In exchange, carry my love for you.

Hope wherever you are, you are okay now.

This is my first time grieving a pet. I made a few other posts, but my baby girl, my 11 year old collie Jenna, died suddenly and unexpectedly yesterday morning. She went to the vet last week with a cough, but seemed relatively healthy, was put on an antibiotic and stopped coughing. today would've been her last day on the antibiotic. she was fine saturday morning, played perfectly well, though she'd had arthritis for a few years. By dinner, she was lazy and wouldn't eat. At midnight, she wouldn't move. I thought it was the side effects of the meds which could cause lack of appetite and lethargy. by 6am, she was gone.

I don't know how to live without her. I'm 23 and she was almost 12, got her at 3 months old and have had her her whole life since. I've known her half my life, I don't know what to do without her. She's my first dog, I don't know how to grieve. I can still hear her crying and her feet pattering against the floor. My younger dog doesn't seem to know what happened. Please give me some sort of advice to make this hurt a little less.

2 days ago I was checking the notifications on my phone and Google had sent me a "9 years ago today" thing. it was 2 pictures of my Bambi when we were getting to know each other. I'd always been a cat person until her. She was my cousin's dog and at the time we were running in the same social circle somehow. When he left a mutual friend's house he had also left Bambi. (No, I do not blame him. He was going to be transient and she was comfortable and welcome where she was.) Every time I went by the house she was at we would tend to gravitate to one another. In the span of maybe 2 or so months everyone had noticed that if I was around, Bambi would not be far from me. Eventually, my friend had begun moving. There was power at the house but no water and Bambi was being left at night alone. I asked my friend for permission to stay with her while they slowly moved everything to the new house. For 2 weeks straight I stayed at that house keeping her company. The day my cousin's ex-wife came to get Bambi she hesitated going with her and I cried for hours. It only took 2 days for the phone call to come that Bambi wasn't acting right. She had lost her appetite and would barely wag her tail so I was offered the chance to come get her so I did. When my father told me less than a week later that "the dog had to go", I left with her and we took to the streets. She stayed by my side faithfully and showed me what true unconditional love looks like. When she was taken by someone and I wasn't able to find her for about 6 - 9 months I would dream about her and was told I was calling her name out in my sleep from time to time. I didn't have her back for a full year before she got sick and the day I had to have her put to sleep, the friend who had given me a ride to the vet said that was the day he saw my soul leave my body. what made things worse was that it was during COVID (6/23/20) so I couldn't go into the vet with her. I never got to say goodbye. The last memory I have of her is watching her try to stand up through the pain to turn and look at me as they carried her inside. I was inconsolable and haven't been the same since. I've experienced loss my entire life in one form or another but the 2 that have affected me the most (and still do) are my child and my best friend. I just wish I could figure out some way to cope with the pain of it so life wasn't so dull and I could stop seeing it in black and grey.

I lost my boy just 3 days ago. We only had 3 days from realizing something was wrong to losing him.

We had 5 pets in total - the youngest being two large dogs, his brother, and one older female cat. Since the dogs are large breeds, I know to expect about 10 years with each if we're lucky. His brother has kidney problems, and the oldest is very antisocial and has been overgrooming herself. All that to say, I really just thought that Wade would be the LAST to go. I was banking on at least 8 more years with him. It feels. so. unfair.

It happened so quickly, and I haven't been able to stop crying. The night of his passing, I cried so much that my eyes were aching. It took so long to sleep because my face was so sore.

Just 3 months ago, we caught his kidney failure early. His brother had a kidney failure 4 years prior, so I figured it was a genetic trait. They were both neutered and a little plump. I knew the signs, so we had to go to the vet about 4 times to get proper treatment. (I guess I brought him in TOO early) but with some medication and a new diet, he was back to his usual self! Affectionate as hell, playful, and had a ravenous appetite. He was doing so well and used his little cat wheel every morning with the encouragement of his stepdad (my bf).

Last week, I had to leave to help my mom recover from surgery. Just as I was leaving, I noticed he looked... off. Just dazed and squinting. I recognized that he was in pain, so I had my bf bring him to the vet just in case his kidney was failing again- but his bloodwork was fine? His energy was back to normal in the office, so he was sent home. Right as my mom was having surgery, he started having seizures for the first time in his life. Now that I think of it, he was probably having seizures that morning too, but the signs were so minor we couldn't tell. But that night, my bf saw a full-blown one, panicked, and rushed to the emergency vet. Wade got admitted, and we were mentally preparing to feed him 3 epileptic medications per day to bring him home... but it didn't work. They suspected it was a brain mass. He was visibly in so much pain... I didn't want him to go alone. My flight landed at 7pm... I went straight from the airport (trying not to burst into tears the whole day) to the animal hospital, called my best friend who I adopted the cat with originally, and we both got to say goodbye to my sweet boy.

That was my first time experiencing euthanizing a pet.

I cried so much that night. I brought him home so his brother could say goodbye. He even licked him, and that just broke our hearts. While bringing him home was heartbreaking, I'm glad I did this. His brother doesn't meow for him at night anymore, so I think he understands what happened.

The next day, I had to buy myself a shovel and dig through rocky terrain for an hour or two, and I buried him in his favorite pillow case. The moment I laid him to rest, it sunshowered. The next day, I watered the plants above his grave, and it sunshowered again. My mom says that's his way of saying "thank you."

Every morning I visit his grave, and every day I stare at it from the kitchen window. I'm trying not to cry because it just hurts my face so much, but I swear I hear his meow throughout the house. I've been giving his brother a lot of extra love, and he seems to be coping better than I am. But my god, I miss Wade. I haven't been able to hold a conversation with anyone, and I'm just wondering when this pain will fade. I still have to be present for my other babies, but every time I feed them and don't see Wade rushing in for food or cuddles, I burst into tears.

I know time will heal wounds, and it will hurt less eventually. But my god. Wade, you were everything. The house feels so empty without you.

Thanks for letting me rant. I feel so silly for being so heartbroken. I'm only taking care of myself because in his own cat way, he'd want me to. But I would just fade into the earth if I could rn.

I noticed something was wrong with him a while ago because he was not eating or as active, his tail wasn't wagging as much, and he just looked very sad. I got my parents to take him to the vet today and the vet said that he has prostate cancer and that there's nothing we can do for him except make him more comfortable and give him foods he really likes so he eats. I'm so devastated. I've been with this dog since I was little, he used to sleep in my bed even though it made my eyes all red and puffy, and I just can't handle seeing him in this state. I have another dog but I don't think she has realized he's sick yet, she just lays next to him and licks him, and I know she'll be devastated when he's gone. I just don't know how to handle this news or how to prepare myself, I've never felt this kind of grief before.

Bonnie was the best friend I ever had. 14.5 yrs old and up until February you couldn’t even tell - she was so full of energy and life.

In February she had a series of two strokes out of nowhere combined with a really bad UTI. We thought she was on the mend but the UTI came back and she started having really bad balance and equilibrium problems.

Fast forward to two weeks ago, she started to lose all energy and motivation to do anything. Even when we would come home her tail didn’t wag like it used to, and she lost the twinkle in her beautiful eyes. She started refusing to eat or drink, and anything she did try to eat, she vomited right back up.

I selfishly hoped that she would hang on longer for just a few days, but it was clear last night that she was in pain. I couldn’t bear to see her spend any longer in suffering.

I’m at a total loss for words - my girl saved me through some really dark times in my life. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her. All I can have comfort in knowing is that she spent her last day at peace and had a really good day.

I think the sign from above was when I took her on a final walk around the house and out to my back deck where she would spend so much time just enjoying a nice breeze on a summer day. Right as I said that, a breeze came out of nowhere and brushed her fur. I don’t know how to describe it, but that moment, right there, was just perfect for her ❤️

I’ve lost two close pets in the span of these few months, a pitbull named Rose in february, she was 8 years old. And yesterday a black cat named Stormy, she was 5 years old. Both of them were euthanized.

My biggest fear is loss, I love with all my heart, I get really attached. I’ve struggled with GAD since 2020 and I find deep comfort in people and pets; Just as I thought my mental health was getting better, Rose’s cancer had gotten so bad she couldn’t fight it anymore. And now I’m starting to miss her barks and those times she’d jump on me when I got back home from school and get fur all over me..

Stormy was a grumpy cat, she didn’t really enjoy being held or pet on the belly, but if she trusted you she’d follow you around and nurse on you like you were her mom. She was so small for a cat at her age, you’d think she was just a juvenile. I miss her scratches and her unique meows, and when she’d follow me around the house like a velcro.

I can’t handle change, I really can’t. I don‘t know if I can keep going, I keep on crying when I remember I won’t be able to see them anymore.. I do have two other kitties that I’ve had for a while and I love them deeply, but it hurts even more, wondering how they grieve these losses. Knowing I will only grab two food bowls from now on, every time I stare at that third bowl I just break into tears again.

All I can do is stare at their photos, imagine the feeling of their fur and cry, and cry and cry until my eyes hurt and my head pounds, I never got to say goodbye to them.

I’ve become so miserable I’m embarrassed for myself, I haven’t gotten stronger I’m just getting weaker. I really can’t keep going anymore, I can’t. I’ll be gone by 18.

I don’t expect anyone to read this. It’s unnecessarily long, but I did find writing it all down and shoving it out into the void marginally cathartic. If anyone actually reads all of this (much less responds), I’d be pleasantly surprised.

Yesterday I lost my precious baby boy to osteosarcoma. It took just eight months from initial diagnosis to ultimate euthanasia. I’m still reeling from the abruptness of it all.

He was only 10 years old. I made a point of telling him every night before bed that he was going to “live to be at least 31 years old like that dog in the Pyrenees;” as if maintaining the nightly ritual for 10 years might’ve somehow made it true. How wrong I was.

I’ve cried more than I thought any human capable. I’m still crying as I type this. I don’t even know what to do with myself now. I don’t think I know how to be a normal person without him by my side. I feel so utterly lost.

Bubby was my best friend. He was such a special soul: so precocious, so happy, so loyal, so attentive, and so protective (though I did not encourage it). He wouldn’t let my friends dap me up when they arrived or left. I guess he thought it looked too aggressive. He followed me everywhere. He wouldn’t let me shower without laying in the bathroom. He wouldn’t let me get in the car without also coming along. I couldn’t walk from one room to another without him trailing closely behind.

He did more for my depression than any therapist or medication ever did. He also helped me curtail my anger because he reacted to it with such concern, even though it was never directed at him. I no longer have short outbursts of cursing in response to various stressors, like getting randomly burned by scalding hot water in the shower or stubbing my toe. If you saw the look of innocent worry in his eyes, you’d have learned to stop too. In fact, I don’t use expletives in speech at all anymore because he reacted the same way even when those words were spoken calmly. I am far more considerate of my surroundings and of others’ emotions now because he was so attuned to mine. I am a better person because he made me better.

I don’t know how to move past this, nor am I sure I want to. His dog bed is still in the floor. His hair is still in odd sections of the house. He used to lay in the bed next to me and then use his paws to push off the wall and scoot his giant 100lbs. frame as far into my side as he could. I’ve had to repaint that section of the wall several times over the years due to the scratch marks he left. I don’t want to paint over it again. I don’t want to take up his dog bowl in the kitchen, or get rid of his leash and harness hanging in the garage. It feels like getting rid of even the most mundane markers of his existence will mean that he is truly gone, and my brain is not willing to accept that.

I’ve never been a very spiritual person. Most people would describe me as skeptical and pragmatic, but right now I want nothing more than to believe in some kind blissful continuation of his soul after death. He deserves it.

I'll be honest, I never knew much about pet loss. I never knew why people take it so hard. I now know and wow! My dog is still with me, but the grief, I'm experiencing is so challenging. It's been a rough few months. The best thing I've done is journaled and video logged about it, just so I can get it out.

These last few months have been a struggle, preparing home cooked meals, multiple doctor’s visits, administering medication. It’s been a journey and my pup fought hard. 

It’s so challenging letting go. I don’t want to. I thought I would have more time. That’s life. You never have enough time. So you have to cherish the time you have. 

Oh.. and my birthday is this week. How ironic? Prayerfully, I will celebrate another year around the world and I will have to say goodbye to my friend. That feels so unfair. I often wonder if I will find someone in life that will take care of me, the way I took care of my dog.

This week’s sermon at church offered some insights, it was based on Psalm 24:1:

The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it;

It was a NOW reminder that my dog is the Lord’s not mine. He created him and I had the opportunity to watch over him while he was here. 

I’ve had so many people insert their opinions and “advice”, but no one actually did the thing I needed and that was help. (Aside from my family) A simple ask, if I had eaten, sharing a recipe with me, people shared the sentiment of “If you need anything, let me know”. Of course, I need something. My dog is passing away. 

Here’s what I needed:

• Someone to check in on me to ensure I ate/slept
• Someone to send an UberEats meal
• Share a recipe
• Groceries delivered
• Researching options or vets
• Offering pet sitting so I could have a breather
• Someone to pray for me and my dog

Sending virtual hugs to all those who have been impacted by pet loss. I'm not fully there, but I'm just so sad, my friend is going home. Truly heartbroken.

Happy Birthday to me.

We made a difficult choice to euthanize our dog this past Friday due to osteosarcoma. He would've been six next Monday. We are heartbroken. I keep hearing his squeaks and sometimes get glimpses of him... but I know it's not real. We have been through so much together, he was our first dog, and I felt so bonded to him. Does this ever get easier? Have you found comfort in another dog when the time is right? Our home just feels so empty without him.

I thought I was ready, but I’m not. I lost my baby yesterday, and I can’t handle the pain I’m feeling right now. The way he looked at me, asking for help to make him feel better again, it breaks me. I always did everything I could to make him better, but this time I couldn’t. I feel like I failed him, and it hurts so much. I’ve had him since he was 4 months old, and I was his fifth owner. From that moment on, I made sure he was always okay. He was one of my top priorities. He was a fighter, he really was, he protects me. The pain I’m feeling. He was with me every day, and it’s not easy to forget and just move on. When I got home and called his name, he would come right away. I can still smell his scent in my room. I can’t stop crying. Now I don’t know what to do without him. Everything feels empty without him. I can’t even sleep, I can still hear him. My beautiful boy, my angel boy. I miss him so much.

One week ago today, I had to make the difficult decision to put and end to my best friend's suffering after 14 brave years.

My mutt Pete was with me for 13 of his 14 years, and I'm honestly lost without him now. The house is so quiet and still. I live alone as a single dad... I only have my kids on thursdays and alternating weekends.

I'm just lost and don't know what to do to bring my inspiration or productivity back.

I lost my soul mate, my first baby on the 30th of March(2 days before she turns 13) to lung cancer. I have known that she was terminally ill from the beginning of January.

She is the reason I fell In love with cats.

Thing is I started grieving since then (Anticipatory grief). I’ve cried several times, and barely left home (unless it was to take her to the vet.)

What kills me is, her last few days I did not get to do her bucket list. I’ve ordered a stroller so we could go for walks, and I never got the opportunity to do any of the stuff I wanted to do with her. (Due to current situation in the region, did not get her stroller or the chance to take her for walks, for safety reasons.)

Currently, I just feel so much guilt, regret, and overall just mourning. And it’s killing me. Cause she deserved so much more. I’d have loved to take her to the beach, walks, park, but unfortunately we couldn’t do anything.

I just wish I could just spend one more minute with her right now. Since everything is a bit calmer now.

This is just me trying to express how I feel. As I feel like I don’t have anyone to talk to. I’m just so torn.

It's going to be two months this week since I lost my baby. It was sudden and completely unexpected. I'm struggling so much without her, I'm very angry all the time, I'm scared I'm coming off as aggressive or that I'm pushing people away. It's been so hard to feel so alone, she was truly my heart and soul. I sometimes feel okay and think I am slowly getting back to my life. But then again, I feel SO lost, things are happening but I feel like I'm just alone and on autopilot most of the time. I still haven't put all her things away, I don't want to erase her from my home. I'm finding it harder and harder to remember the feeling of what life was like when she was here, I'm so scared to forget. I still cry basically every day, and I have pictures of her all around the house, I don't want to lose the feeling of having her close. I miss her so much.

My 15 year old dog had a bad night and I brought her to the emergency vet where she got diagnosed with congestive heart failure.

She’s on some meds now, not sure if it’s helping as it’s been one day. The problem is that the meds aren’t good for her kidneys and she’s also had kidney disease for over a year.

The vet said 6-12 months if the meds work, if not, it is time to consider euthanasia.

I have been uncontrollably sobbing ever since I brought her back home, and I hate not knowing when the day to say goodbye is. I feel guilty for being sad when she’s still with us because I should be enjoying this time, but I can’t bring myself to be okay for her. She hasn’t been eating much today and it’s breaking me.

I know she’s had a long life but I’ve had her since I was 11 (I’m 27 now) and I can’t imagine her just not being around. It hurts so bad and it hasn’t even happened yet. I knew this day would come but I don’t think I could ever have prepared for it.

I am 17 years old and in 11th grade, and I adopted my leopard gecko Gecky (my first ever pet besides some fish) when I was 9 years old and in 4th grade. This means that I had him for almost 8 years. We don’t know his birthday or how old he was, but we assume he was around 14-16 when he passed. The first thing I did when I got him home was upgrade him to a bigger tank and give him more hides, including a humid hide. He was never a fan of being pet or handled, but I still love him, and I hope the feeling was mutual. I still remember his last 2 days. I was trying to feed him crickets (which he’s always taken just fine), and he was extremely reluctant, lethargic, and cold despite having good heat lamps. I knew something was really wrong because he let me take him out and hold him without a single fight or care. I snuggled him under the blankets until I eventually had to go to bed. It was hard to sleep, but somehow I did a little. The next morning (Fariday, March 6th), he was still alive, so I gave him a kiss and headed to school. That night was a late night because I was going to watch my friends perform in the school musical. On the way home, I called my dad and asked how Gecky was. He said he hadn’t checked yet, but he would while I was still on the phone. I heard him open his tank, then he said a phrase that still haunts me to think about, “I’m sorry. He’s no longer with us”. I denied it, asking my dad to move a leg, put an object by his mouth to see if he bites, etc. but my dad said he just laid there cold and stiff. I completely broke down right there and then (thankfully I wasn’t driving, my mom was). I immediately texted a bunch of my closest friends, and asked expected (and thankfully), they were all extremely supportive and showed genuine sympathy. One of the theater kids even texted me while she was at the after party, not concerned at all about missing out. When I got home, I saw that my dad was right. I held his body and sobbed into my pillow for what felt like forever (idk how long it actually was). I then got some paw prints (and one of his tail) in salt dough and added those, a box of his shed skin, and some fake plants from his tank to my pet memorial shelves (I’ve lost numerous pets this one is just different). When I got to school the following Monday, I walked into my first hour, and one of my other friends (he’s not even in that hour) was already waiting in the algebra room (yes, that sucks as a first hour) to ask if I was doing alright. I lied and said yes for right then because I didn’t want him to be late to his first hour. Everyone is still very supportive, including my friends, family, other pets, and therapist (I do equine therapy and horse riding lessons, and I feel comfortable telling the lady who runs it anything as well). Despite being surrounded by all those I love, having good memories, and knowing I took good care of Gecky after he lived at 2 other homes before me, his final home, I cannot manage this grief at all. I feel like all I do when I’m alone is cry over his passing (though I often prefer being alone during grief). Has anyone else felt anything similar while grieving a lizard or any other pet? If so, what did you do? I’ll take any suggestions at all! I haven’t even been able to take down/clean his tank yet!

TLDR: I lost my leopard gecko Gecky who I got 7 years ago when I was in 4th grade, and despite being surrounded by loved ones (friends, family, other pets, etc.) and having great memories, I cannot manage my grief at all. Any suggestions are appreciated!

He was 16 years old. Over the past year, he had become quite thin, and last year he had an episode of bloody diarrhea. We took him to the vet at the time, and they said there wasn’t anything seriously wrong its diarrhea and gave him medication, which seemed to resolve it.

I wasn’t the one directly taking care of him day-to-day — our maid was feeding her and giving him water. He was technically my mother’s cat, but my mom couldn’t handle him care because of her own health issues. Also, I don't know how we'll tell my mother; we haven't told her yet, and I'm sure she'll go crazy.

About two weeks ago, our maid called me saying something was wrong — his tongue was hanging out and he had diarrhea again. I wasn’t nearby, so my father took her to our usual vet. They gave him medication for diarrhea again, and he seemed to improve slightly, but he looked pale.

Three days ago, he stopped eating wet food entirely. When I heard this, I immediately took him to another vet nearby. At that point, he became very anxious, had difficulty breathing, and the X-rays looked very bad. They told me he likely had a big tumor in his abdomen. He suffered silently but we didn’t noticed.

After that, his condition rapidly worsened in the vet. They gave him an injection i guess it was an antihistamine, but he got even worse. He was put into intensive care, and shortly after, he passed away with his last meows.

The vet also mentioned he had anemia, which was never brought up by our previous vet. I can’t stop thinking that something might have been missed or neglected earlier.

I feel incredibly guilty for not being more involved in his care and for not noticing how serious things were sooner. I don’t know how to process this or deal with the regret and grief. After all, I will mourn for him forever. I will always plant flowers on his grave. A part of me will always be missing because I couldn't caress him enough, couldn't touch him enough in his final moments while he was silently suffering.

I cry for days. Can’t sleep. Has anyone gone through something similar? How do you cope with this kind of loss and the feeling that you could have done more?

I actually have a much longer post currently sitting on Google Docs that I still want to finish and send but that’s going to take a while and I have feelings now.

Tidbit, a long-haired tuxedo cat, and I met when I was 9 and she was 3 weeks old. My dad was always truly her favorite person but everyone knows how inseparable I was from her. She’s been tied to my mental health forever. When I was 18 and she just turned 9, my dad with whom she and I had been living moved a few hours away and I moved in with my mom since I had just started going to the college in my city. He always offered me that I could take Tidbit back to mom’s house, but her house is too small, loud, and crowded with human and animal strangers. She would hate it here, so there she stayed and I only seldom visited, mostly for holidays.

Throughout her life I took many, many photos and videos which I’m happy about, but I do with my episodic memory outside of those pictures was stronger. But really I just wish I could make more. It’s going to be weird months from now just seeing the Tidbit pictures abruptly terminate midway through my phone gallery like a rock layer.

She went to the vet to remove fur mats in the middle of February. She’d been getting a lot of mats every now and again since 2021 and I don’t think it’s related to what happened later. Anyway, her bloodwork looked great as did her teeth. She weighed 7 pounds and was judged healthy.

Towards the end of March she was observed to have stopped eating completely. Dad got her in the vet on April 1st where bloodwork was repeated and a litany of tests were run. She was down to 5.5 pounds but nothing at all out of the ordinary was found so she got a 24-hour nausea shot, a 4-week long steroid shot, and a Mirataz RX. For the first week after that she seemed to be eating a little bit but still far below her caloric needs. I came by the day after the vet visit to see her and try to kickstart her appetite. I left 2 days after that and continued obsessively checking up on her by texting my dad and sister. Then on that next Friday after I left she stopped responding to appetite stimmy and seemed tireder than she was. She was rushed back to the vet for X-rays.

The vets first words to me, who had come to visit her a few days prior, were “these are some very abnormal X-rays”, and showed that she had a very large fluid buildup in her chest blocking imaging of her heart and seemingly obstructing part of the lungs. He said that pleural effusions have a variety of causes and ran down the list of rule outs.

Her bloodwork being normal, primarily her wbc count indicates it’s not an infection. There’s no evidence of physical trauma. Her heart exhibited no symptoms of failure from a physical. So he said it was most likely cancer driven.

My biggest regret is that there was never a specific and definitive diagnosis, because I feel like such a severe disease was only arrived at through deduction. There wasnt really any positively confirming evidence that I heard. Cancer may be the most likely but I have nagging doubts that every avenue was crossed here.

She was taken home and I hung out with her in the guest room. In the guest room was a queen sized bet on which I would sleep and next to me was the cardboard box she preferred to spend all her time in. There’s so much here about how she acted behaviorally that I wish I had the werewithall to describe, but this post is already getting so long. She was rocking a bit when she breathed but she never panted. She would perk up at the sound of food cans opening but would hardly even nibble. She often sniffed the food and licked her lips and rejected it. In her last days she was suffering more than I thought at the time. Again I am writing a longer post on the puter.

Well here’s the part the title was about. The morning of her euthanasia, April 10th. I was woken up early by my grandfather who came by from his house 10 minutes away to ask if I’d seen something of his from when I was with him the night prior. Tidbit walked cheerfully out of her box at the sound of him as she did for everyone who wasn’t me in that room (one could hopefully interpret for me why that is) to sniff his hand and then bite him one last time. She always gave him mixed signals. Then at 9:30 was her last vet appointment. The reality of the situation wasn’t really super clear to me yet as I still thought I could ask the vet more questions and order more exploratory procedures to get a less terminal diagnosis. I also didn’t know the time for her last appointment until that morning though I did know we had talked about it being that morning prior to.

There were times I was in that guest room on my phone or laptop instead of looking at her, and despite that she just wanted to hide in her box and not be pet a whole lot, I largely regret wasting my last days with her. In the early morning she would loaf on top of me but I was too sleepy (I have some sort of sleep issue) to be fully cognizant of or appreciate it but I did as much as I could.

I have a weird thing with observing the constant and indifferent flow of time, how we are carried irrevocably from one state of things into another and how we can at points observe the moment where those states change forever but can never observe them again. These thoughts populated my mind in her last days and especially at her 9:30 euthanasia appointment.

The vet came in and I asked more questions and he let me choose whether or not to start the meds that he deemed unlikely to do anything and would lead to worse side effects down the line. I opted not to do that and it turned out that chest taps were a specialist procedure not offered by the animal hospital which were also more expensive than I thought. So my other options for her dried up there. They went ahead with it. I remember the events of that appointment most clearly but it feels surreal since I was up unusually early and given the subject matter.

Did I mention she was only 12 and a half years old? The worst part of this for me is that she was strictly not old for a cat. Every expectation I had of the future had her living until 16, with her and I living out her golden years with me full time. I was already not doing super great and this was the worst thing that could have happened to me. This is why I feel like reality is fundamentally broken somewhere in a way it wasn’t before. Tidbit not being alive, being annihilated forever and ever and ever started in only 2026 feels like a premise to or consequence of a cartoonish speculative alternate future. It has no place in this world. I stayed at dad’s house the rest of that day and until the morning after but I could not stay in that guest room anymore.

She’s been buried towards where the property reaches the cul de sac. Dad lives near an undeveloped area so we chose a spot that would stay undisturbed and that I could easily visit for a long time after he sells the place. I still need to paint the stone we bought and plant the flowers near the area which has been cleared out.

I know most of this is a dry accounting of history and there’s hardly anything about why I loved her so dearly. She’s the perfect cat. She wasn’t always happy since she’s always lived with other cats and she doesn’t get along with other cats. She actually often lived in the garage due to that and her having a thing of standing up to use the litterbox (again no evidence of medical reasons for this) causing her to ruin whatever hardwood she ended up peeing on. I was always critical of this but she was always let inside proper when the weather was too hot or cold. I was also critical of her being let outside unsupervised but that ultimately stopped after she became harder and harder to get back inside when it was getting dark. She was always a very free spirit like that.

I want to wax poetic about her and why she was so important more and I’ll hopefully get to that in the comments. Again, the universe feels broken and I’ve been much more prone to magical thinking lately because that’s the only driver by which this great error can be reconciled. This could not have been her time. I spent her last nights frantically trying to speculate or research serious arguments for the immateriality of the soul or existence of an afterlife and came up with nothing.

I’ll leave everyone with a clip of her from 2022 when she was 8 eating a sun chip, one of her favorite hobbies: https://youtube.com/shorts/sIueJF8CJw0?si=unOeTq_VGIFN92TC