On Tuesday night the moment I have been dreading for years finally happened. Sasha, my pet cat of 18 years, passed away. I came home from work to find her stumbling when she walked, and sniffing around as if she was exploring the house for the first time. She didn’t even purr when I held her. After a lot of crying, Catherine and I took her to the vets. She had had a massive stroke and there was nothing the vet could do for her. It was a very painful decision to… well, I can’t write it. Suffice to say she died peacefully in my arms.
In some ways I feel like I let her down. I wonder if there was more I could have done. But before taking her to the vets she somehow just didn’t seem… right. She wasn’t the bouncy, cheery, happy Sasha-cat that I’d come to know and love. It was upsetting to see her like that – maybe moreso than to let her go.
Now I am sans cat. My house, regardless of all the clutter, seems empty. And silent. While I’m of the opinion that a home without a cat is just a house, and not worthy of the title “home”, I don’t think it’s possible to replace Sasha. I couldn’t even think of trying.
I miss her too much.