I've been scouring the internet on how to make this easier to handle- grief has me exhausted, but I guess there's no real way through it except to feel it? I hate it. I hate that grief is so demanding.
My 3-yo female orange tabby passed away out of the blue on Friday afternoon. No signs of illness or injury. My family found her laying in my room, already gone. She was a happy, healthy, bouncy little thing with so much life ahead of her. She loved everyone (I always called her "aggressively affectionate" because she demanded the utmost love and attention.)
Because of the suddenness, I took her to a pathologist on Saturday. I should get preliminary results this afternoon from the autopsy.
I suspect it may have been a UTI that went undiagnosed (if she was symptomatic, it flew right under our noses.) I can't say anything for certain of course, that's just my gut.
I'm grieving but adjusting. What absolutely kills me, what devastates me, is that she was only 3 and had so many more years ahead of her, and they were stolen from her. She didn't deserve this. My sweet baby didn't deserve to live three short years on this earth. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to her. It wasn't supposed to end like this, so quickly. I just don't understand and I can't accept that this is really it, that she'll never lay on my feet in bed again or chirp at me from the kitchen counter.
And then if it was a UTI, what if she was in pain in her final moments? What if she was so scared? I should have been there for her. I should have paid more attention, noticed something was off. I should have made sure she was drinking enough and using the litterbox normally.
I'm not suicidal but I understand now when people say they want to die upon the loss of their pet. I don't know if I'll see her again some day- I don't know if there's a heaven where me & her both exist- and that uncertainty is enough to drive me crazy. I don't know how to keep going after this. I don't know how long this grief is going to last and it's poisoned every minute of every day, making me totally unable to function.
I can't stop wondering if she was in pain.
I can't stop wondering that maybe if I took her odd behavior more seriously (two urinary accidents the day of, which wasn't a new issue with her) I could have prevented this.
She had past behavioral issues with peeing outside the litterbox & physical issues were ruled out, which is why I didn't take it seriously when she peed in the house that morning. I thought it was behavioral. I thought it was just stress. I had no idea it could have meant anything different.
The thought of getting a memorial for her is too painful- I don't want the physical reminder of her finality. I have another cat I've been snuggling furiously in the meantime. I'll be getting her ashes back in a week or so. I didn't really want to, but her final resting place belongs with me no matter what.
Remembering the happy times is still too raw and emotional. I can't bring myself to talk about her in person to anyone- I start bawling immediately. My poor baby. My poor sweet baby.
Why did it have to end like this. I feel like there's a split timeline now- this nightmare one where she's gone, and literally every other possibility of outcome where she could have been saved. Why is THIS the one I'm living in.