Saying Goodbye to Old Friends

You may have seen her photos all over the site, but I want to introduce you to my late kitty, Mu. She had been my companion for 18 years and in her twilight years started to show her age with several medical issues that are common in older cats. I still miss her quite a bit but I thought maybe sharing the story of her passing would help others with their own pet loss situations. It took me a while to get up the courage to share it, so understand that healing takes a while.

In early summer 2024, I'd been incredibly busy preparing for a annual work event. We followed a strict schedule of giving Mu medication twice a day. We'd spent much of the previous couple of years trying to find the right medications and food to help her feel better and at times she seemed like her old active, playful self. Due to some bullying issues with the other two cats, I resorted to building her a little kitty retirement home from a old kid coral and some cardboard. The pen kept Apollo from eating her food and Circe from stalking her during her litter box usage. It worked out pretty well for the most part and I let her out during the day when I could supervise her with the other two cats around.

Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse while I was out of town on my work trip. TJ had taken the week off to spend time with our older son, and was the first to notice the initial signs of her decline. Sadly after I returned, her health had degraded so far, we had to make the tough call to let her go on. In the end, it truly was the right choice.

We discovered in early 2023 that Mu suffered from hyperthyroidism, a common "old cat" disease. Our vet warned us that renal failure was a possibility once the thyroid was under control, and sadly, we started to see that happen at the beginning of May 2024. We tried to treat it with specialized food, but while I was away for my work event, Mu decided she was done with it all and started to refuse food. By the time I got back, she had hit the point where she was barely drinking.

As soon as they were open Monday after I got back in town, I arranged an emergency vet visit. After checking her over, the vet let us know she probably didn't have much time left and even if we attempted to do diagnostic testing, she might not survive the process. After many tears and some sniffles, I made the tough call and started contacting people. I spent the rest of the day holding her, petting her, and letting our friends and family say goodbye. That evening, TJ and I went back to the vet to let her go. To be honest, it was a quick and fairly peaceful process. No fuss. She just let go and before we knew it, she was gone.

If I said I'm not heartbroken about it, I'd be lying, but there's also the flip side of this grief which is the relief and guilt. Did I make the right choice? Should I have done more? Could I have done anything else to help her live longer or be more comfortable in her older years? I felt guilty that I was glad I didn't have to manage her medication regimen anymore. I was guilty that I could reclaim a corner of my living room. And I know I'm not alone in those emotions.

In sharing the news with a channel at work for cat parents, a coworker reached out to offer her condolences and we chatted a bit about losing pets. She shared that one of her dearly departed cats had a feeding tube in his final year and she had to plan her days around his medication cycles. She couldn't be gone for more than 3 hours at a time and going on vacations was almost not possible. When her vet finally put it in the perspective of the pet's quality of life and his life in that state of being, she really came to terms that letting him go was the best option for him and for her. She had the same gambit of emotions: the grief, guilt, and relief. She said it took some time to get through it, and she still looks at his pictures with love and fondness.

Mu and Aphrodite, a cat I found and my mother took care of that passed away several years ago.

To be fair, Mu isn't the first cat I've lost over the years, but she is the first cat that was wholly mine and no one else's. In retrospect, I did the math and realized Mu had been with me for over half my lifetime, so she really was a huge presence in my life, and as you'll see on this site. A lot of the branding of the site is based on her coloring and I wouldn't have it any other way. She is missed. I find myself still looking for her sometimes as I walk through the house, or I catch myself listening for her crying loudly downstairs in the middle of work meeting. I look back on recordings of her carrying her toys around and fondly recall her specific meows and cries. But of course now she's not there when I look for her and I'll never hear her cry again in person. But I'll remember her and what she did for me in her short little life that was full of fun, energy, and the right kind of sassiness.

I hope that if you ever have to feel the sadness of losing a pet you can take comfort in the thought that you are not alone. I miss her dearly and find myself dreading the day when I have to say good bye to my other cats. What I've learned from loving and losing one pet will help me navigate the next one, but it definitely will not diminish the pain I know I will feel. For now I make sure I give plenty of treats, plenty of pets, and try not to forbid them from climbing up in my lap as much as they want because one day, they may not be able to, and I'll miss their warmth.

I miss you Mu, but you'll always be my pretty little sassy tortie, named after the population statistical average despite being far from average yourself.