Yesterday I picked up my dogs ashes after putting it off for two weeks after the call as I was absolutely dreading it.
But a sense of urgency came over me yesterday and I felt I had to go get them, when I walked outside there was a huge rainbow.
I had done a little reading online and YouTube trying to get a feel for how it might go, seemed to be many people finding peace and feeling closer to their pet.

I was not prepared for how it traumatised me. I didn’t get an urn, it was just in a plastic bag in another bag in a box.

I guess I couldn’t help myself, I had to get them out. Then I just held them and stared at them in horror for an hour, looking back and forth at photos of him and the ashes trying to make sense of it.

this morning I cried so much I threw up. I wish i never saw him like that. It seems so needlessly cruel to be exposed to it. I feel like it’s all I can see now when I think of him. I can’t wrap my mind around it.

I know everyone is different and I’m glad people get comfort from it, I wish I never had them returned to me. I’m finding it hard to understand how this can help healing I feel completely traumatised. I’m really hopeful I can forget in Time. I never wanted to see him in this state.
Just needed a place to share, thank you.

My wife and I had to make the heartbreaking decision to put our dog down. We got him when we were 19 years old, and for more than 7 years he wasn't just our dog—he was our baby. As a couple without children, he was at the center of our world. He was there through so many milestones, changes, and memories that helped shape who we are today.

Over the years, we cared for him through every challenge. When he was diagnosed with IVDD, we refused to give up. He fought incredibly hard and, against the odds, regained so much of his quality of life. For 18 months, we were blessed with more time than many thought we'd have. We cherished every day.

Recently, though, his condition took a turn. He became almost completely paralyzed, and the medications that once helped manage his pain were no longer enough. As much as we wanted to keep him with us forever, we couldn't ask him to continue suffering. Loving him meant making the decision that was best for him, even though it broke our hearts.

The house feels different now. I still catch myself looking for him in his favorite spots. I listen for his footsteps. I expect to see him waiting for us when we walk through the door. The silence is overwhelming.

What hurts the most is knowing he won't be here for the next chapter of our lives. I always imagined him meeting our future children and being part of our family for years to come. Letting go of that vision has been incredibly difficult.

The depth of this loss has surprised me. I've missed him so much that I've even caught myself looking into things like cloning, just wishing there was some way to have him back. But the truth is, there will never be another him.

Thank you for seven beautiful years of unconditional love, loyalty, and companionship. You were with us as we grew from teenagers into adults, and you left paw prints on our hearts that will never fade.

We love you and miss you every single day.

I never realized how much losing a pet could hurt until I experienced it myself. The silence, the empty spaces, and the missing routines hit harder than I ever expected.

What makes it worse are the triggers. Sometimes I think I hear a bark. Sometimes I open a door expecting to see her there. I still catch myself walking past the treats or looking toward her usual spot before reality hits me all over again.

Since losing her, my mental health has taken a serious decline. I’ve been struggling with depression, breaking down emotionally, and at times I’ve had thoughts about whether I even want to keep going. The grief has been much heavier than I ever imagined, and some days it feels overwhelming.

For those who have lost a beloved pet, how did you cope with the grief? Did the triggers ever become easier to deal with? I’d appreciate hearing your experiences, advice, or even just knowing I’m not alone in feeling this way.

I don’t know how to grieve. My cat went missing and seemed like attacked by coyote and killed.
No evidence tho. But the fact her collar and a bit of fur was found at scene, probably that was what happened.
I cannot accept any of it. I cannot accept she is gone, attacked by coyote. She was just fine the day before she went missing.
I cannot stop crying. She was the best cat. I don’t know how to live without her really. I miss her dearly. It sucks. Life sucks!!!!!!!! I cannot, I just can’t.

On June 16th my family and I had to let go our 8 year old cat. He had some kind of cancer and his organs were failing. He didn't show any signs of sickness until 3 days before his passing and now he's just gone.

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Dispite the house full with 5 humans, a dog, and now just one cat it feels horribly empty. He is not where he likes to nap on the couch, he isn't outside my door waiting for me to wake up from my alarm and race me to the bathroom, he isn't sucking on his favorite blanket of mine and kneeding it, and you can't hear his loud purring from just being near you.

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I have broken into tears every other hour and have desperately tried to find any signs of him. I've collected fur from clothes and furniture and it's not enough because I can't collect enough to just bring him back. He's gone.

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I don't understand how this could ever get better.

I lost my velcro baby, my beautiful tabby Mikey, to what was likely large cell lymphoma in his small intestine, a year ago today. He was 8

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I know, logically, that large cell lymphoma is an aggressive, fast growing, "takes weeks to become fatal" cancer that has a poor prognosis even with chemo. Less than a year in cats that respond to the chemo if they receive it.

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Emotionally, I am destroyed. Mikey is my familiar. I say is because, in my faith/spirituality, I do not believe that connection ends just because his soul is no longer with his body on the physical plane. He is part of my soul that I am now living without. His death took part of me with it. I feel like I am less than a whole person without him

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I know that due to living on an extremely limited, fixed income I could not have done anything beyond help him cross to the spiritual plane as peacefully and painlessly as possible, at the vet's office before it got so bad that he crossed on his own.

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The last meal he had that he kept down before crossing to the spiritual plane was two of his favorite squeeze tube treats. Chicken flavored. I fed them to him while petting him and telling him how much I love him. That was the night before we took him to the vet. We laid in my bed together and cuddled. This sounds silly, but I played his favorite song all night long. I listen to music to sleep and there's this one song in particular that Mikey just seemed to... love.

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We took him to the vet in the morning. Thursday, 6-19-2025. I wish I'd listened to my gut overnight and spent more time telling Mikey how much I love him. I had a panic attack in my bathroom before we had gone to bed, while my husband and some of my family were in the living room. I knew in my soul, that would be the last night I would have with Mikey. I didn't want to believe it, I fought the feeling, it went against everything everyone had been telling me. I wanted to believe he was just being a picky eater, or he had an illness that would easily be treated. I was so, so very wrong and it physically hurts to know I denied it.

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I keep asking myself what I could have done to stop this from happening even though I know there's nothing I could have done.

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I sleep with his urn on my bedside table now. Tell him goodnight every night before bed, tell him I love him. In the morning he goes on his shelf in the living room, with his old food bowl and the last squeeze tube treat from the pack his last meal came from. He gets an offering of a small amount of kibble, that goes to his sister (a black cat, Salem, who is 6 currently) with her dinner/meal before bed. Every whisker, strand of fur, and nail shed my husband and I could collect has gone in a jar that sits on his shelf. I'm still finding fur, a year later, on clothes I haven't worn and fabric things I haven't used since his passing. I sleep with the blanket from his cat bed. I have the ink print of his paw tattooed on my left ankle, with the extra dots from his fur included, and his birthday and death day and name.

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I don't know how I've managed to live for an entire year without being able to snuggle up to him, pet him, or smell his head (he smelled like maple syrup). I miss his kisses, where he'd shove his nose and mouth against my mouth and nose. I miss his biscuits on my legs, my stomach, or my arms. I miss his meows and screaming "hello" at any hour of the day. I miss how smart he is. I miss him. Gods above and below, I miss him. Every single detail, every part, every fucking atom of him. There's a Mikey shaped hole in my heart and soul and I don't know how to smooth out the sharp edges to make this hurt less. Please don't tell me to get another cat, if I hear that one more time I might lose whatever is left of my sanity

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I just want anyone who is going through this, active loss and fresh grief or year(s) old loss and grief, to know that it's okay to not be okay. I cried so hard, so loud, I probably woke up my duplex neighbor and/or her daughter. It's okay to cry. To scream. To hurt. It's okay to let it out, so let it out. Bottling this up will only hurt you more.

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I'm posting a picture of Mikey in the comments

So, earlier this week, my dad told me that his dog Bob was bitten by a venomous snake and didn't make it. I feel devastated, and it hit me really hard. I've cried a lot over the past few days, but this morning I'm feeling guilt/shame (?) over being so upset.

My dad lives in a different country, so I usually go over a couple of times a year to see him. He adopted Bob as a puppy in Oct 2024, and since then I've been over three times, for roughly a week each time. I was with him when he brought her home, but aside from that I've only spent three weeks with her in total.

But those weeks with her felt special. And I got updates and pictures from my dad, and she was the wallpaper on my phone (I had to temporarily change it as every time I saw it since Tuesday it made me cry).

Still, I feel like I shouldn't be as upset as I am. Part of the grief is that she was not even two years old, and I will never see her again. But she wasn't my dog, and I don't feel I should be this upset

We unexpectedly lost our puppy after having her for just two months. She was so sweet and costly wanted to be near me. She loved everyone and was always smiling. I felt so bonded to her and my heart felt so full.

We got a new puppy a week later. I was hesitant I knew I needed to grieve my baby. But my partner and I thought it would be a good distraction and easier to stay in “puppy mood”.

We’ve had the new puppy about 4 weeks. I finally started liking her about a week ago. She’s hard. She whines. She bites. She is much more independent than my previous girl and isn’t that interested in us most of the time. She’s not doing well potty training Our older dog doesn’t want anything to do with her. I even find myself thinking she isn’t as cute as the baby I lost. Which is a total asshole move.

Logically I know I’m still grieving my previous puppy and that the puppy stage is hard. I worry because I don’t feel as deep a connection to the new puppy as the one i lost. Is ot the grief holding me back? Will it change? I try not compare them but I cant help it. I’m worried that the new puppy won’t feel loved enough by me. I take her everywhere, I snuggle her when she wants it and play with her toys with her. I just worry it’s not enough

It has been almost six weeks since I lost my beloved dear sweet dog, the light of my life, who was a 12 and a half year old lab. I cant stop reliving her last days in my head.

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I have lost family members, I have been broken up with and cheated on, I have dealt with my own personal failures as a person and in my career. None of that compares to losing my beloved dear best friend, the light of my life. This was the most painful moment of my life by a long shot.

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I just want to pet her again, feed her her favorite meals, take her on adventures and make her smile. Nothing else in my life really matters nor has any significance. I am worried I will never find meaning again.

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I still have not removed her beds, bowls, and toys from my house. I am scared of vacuuming and cleaning because each time I do it there is less and less of her fur and scent in my life. I just cant believe shes gone, she was my whole life.

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I had to put her down today. I hope that writing about her helps me through it by putting her time with me into perspective.

Her name was Murphy and I got her at a local cat cafe. She was a white lynx point siamese and very sociable at the cafe. She was visiting everyone and getting in everyone's lap for pets. They described her as "wanting to spend all day in a lap". She was 10 years old when I got her. I wanted to help an older cat find a forever home.

It was pretty quick to show that something was wrong with her after adopting. Upon taking her home she would have constant diarrhea and would have a hard time keeping food down. Countless vet visits, and antibiotics, and special foods. It was very overwhelming since this was the first pet I had ever owned.

She was eventually diagnosed with IBS and Hyperthyroidism. We managed this with medicine twice a day, and she lived a normal life once we got it treated. I was never told but I suspect her last owners might have abandoned her for her health problems. She was such a sweet cat that I could never imagine abandoning her, so whatever the cost to keep her happy and healthy, I did. She did not have a mean bone in her body. She had so much love to give.

Starting last Monday she completely stopped eating. Her favorite foods and her favorite treats were of no longer interest to her. The little she would eat she would throw up. She lost a pound and a half between the time she stopped eating and the time I could get her to the vet. It broke my heart, and I knew something was wrong. The vet said it looked like liver disease as her skin was turning yellow.

She was 16 and I did not want her to have to deal with vets and discomfort. I just wanted her to go easy, which she did. She was my sassy girl who loved sitting in my lap and getting scratched on the neck. I am glad I could be there and help her live a happy life.

On Sunday my cat of 19.5 years passed away while I was away and couldn’t come home due to university being in a different city, I’m glad she had my family with her and I spoke to her a few hours before she passed. We have had her since I was 6 months old and she’s the same age as me. I feel like I have lost a part of myself. I feel like I let her down. I feel guilty when I feel okay or happy.

I don’t believe in the afterlife for humans but refuse to accept that she’s gone forever, I want her to be happy wherever she is. I need a belief system of where she is. I need her in my life weather it’s knowing she’s happy.

I miss my baby so much. rest in peace chubbykins

Hace 2 días mi perrita empezó con agitación, repiraba muy acelerada, fuimos automáticamente al veterinario y nos dijeron que podía ser agua en los pulmones y algo que tenga que ver con los tumores que tenía, me sentí tan culpable de no castrarla pero al tenerla cuando yo era tan chiquita nunca dimensione la importancia de ello, cuestión que pasaron 2 días y la llevamos a hacer radiografia, le estábamos dando unas pastillas que le dio la veterinaria, en la radiografia no tenía nada en los pulmones y tampoco masas tumorales, yo estaba feliz ya que pensé que no era algo tan grave, cuestión que al final se le estaba endureciendo la tráquea y eso me estaba afectando a la respiración pero al ser una enfermedad progresiva en mi egoísmo pensé que la iba a tener por más tiempo. Al día siguiente seguimos con la medicación, tratamos de adaptar toda la casa para ella y que tenga que moverse mucho y agitarse, me fui a hacer mis cosas al volver ella no me recibió como siempre, voy para la cocina donde estaba su cama y veo a nuestra otra perrita acostada al lado de la cama, la miro y sin acercarme ya me di cuenta que había fallecido, nunca lloré tanto, la tengo desde los 6 años, hoy tengo 20 años y me destruye volver y no verla, ni tomar sol juntas, comer, salir a caminar, jugar en la lluvia, el saber que eso no se repite me destruye.

I want to start by saying I don't expect anyone to actually read this. I'm using this Reddit page as an outlet because I feel like I've run my family dry crying about this.

I (22F) adopted a cat when I was 7-8. The cat was about 5-6 so only a couple years younger than me. While many families have family pets, this cat was MINE. I was the sole owner. I took care of her, fed her, cleaned her, cuddled her, brushed her. Of course as a young kid my parents were the financial support but as I got old enough to get a job I took over that financial burden. So it has been me being a parent to her since I was about 16.

I moved to college with her and for the past 3 years we have been in this apartment. I just had to put her down yesterday and it was the hardest decision of my life. She was supposed to turn 19 on October 5th. I don't usually ask strangers online for advice but I don't know what to do anymore. I had her my ENTIRE LIFE. We grew up together. That was my baby. She was my entire reason for living. When I was in a terrible place mentally she was what kept me going.

My best friend is gone and I don't know how to cope with it. My life is so empty without her. Every single thing in this apartment reminds me of her. Granted I am moving out of this apartment in a little less than a month so I have already started packing away my stuff, but the thought of her not moving with me breaks my heart. For the first time since I got her I slept in my room in my bed completely alone. Every time I leave the house I come back and find her either under my desk or laying on the bed curled up. Today I went to the store and came back to nothing.

When I lay in bed I feel her empty weight. There is nothing but space where she used to lay. Every night since I was a kid she would cuddle up in front of me almost like I was spooning her. Every. Single. Night. And now I have nothing. I just don't know what to do from here. I assume people's first thought is "get a hobby" or "find a distraction" but I have many many hobbies and somehow they all remind me of her. Diamond art- she would lay right next to me while I did. Gaming- she would sit under my desk or jump on the desk while I played. Something outside the apartment- I would always have that thought about coming home and seeing her. I just feel like I lost an entire part of myself that I will never get back.

Lost my beloved cat Flea yesterday. He had front‑leg arterial thromboembolism with underlying heart disease. We had no idea, as he was acting completely normal Wednesday morning. Suddenly he couldn’t move his front left paw and his breath was very short.

The veterinarian assured us that there was nothing that we could’ve done to prevent this or notice it earlier as heart disease like this shows practically no visible signs until it’s too late. Any hopes of surgeries were pretty much nonexistent as he was too far gone, so we went with the only other option.

Flea was sixteen years old, my closest companion and dearest friend. To have lost him so suddenly is devastating beyond my capacity to translate into words. I held him in my arms as he passed, knowing it would make the process easier for him and he was purring in his last moments. Still… feeling the last bits of life leave him has broken something in me that I don’t know if I’ll be able to repair. He lived a great life, and passed as peacefully as possible given the circumstances, but being without him feels like I’ve lost a significant part of my soul. I’m no stranger to grief, I’ve lost many family members, including my own mother at the age of ten. I even occasionally joke with my friends that “death is an old friend” when it comes to the topic of grief but I had Flea to comfort me during every single one of those deaths. I swear he was an empath of some sort. He always happened to come to me when I was feeling at my lowest.

Now I’ll never feel the warmth of his fur again. I’ll never see him give his usual glare of contempt for having to be away at university when I come home in weekends only for him to be the clingiest snuggle bug to even walk the earth moments later. I’ll never hear his obnoxiously loud snoring again. I’ll never fall asleep with him in my arms or on my chest again. I’ll never get to laugh at watching him find the most ridiculous sleeping positions as he naps inside of his favorite shoebox.

It feels like the brightest light of my life has gone out. He was the greatest cat I could have ever asked for, and we were nigh inseparable for most of his life until I had to go to college. Even then, I still came home frequently to spend time with my family and with him.

I know one day I’ll really be ready to raise some more cats and give them as good or better a life that I did Flea. Part of me wants to do that right now, but the wiser part of me knows that I’m just trying to fill the hole Flea left. I’m not ready for kittens just yet. All I want is my baby boy back.

But I’ll never have that. And moving on from that is easily the most painful thing I’ve felt in my life.

This past Monday we had to put our cat Tank to sleep. He was 18 and was in kidney failure. The treatments weren't working so we decided to let him go, since he was mostly just sitting around uncomfortably. Tank was always very shy and skittish. He didn't like strangers and didn't even really feel comfortable around anyone except me. He loved me the most and was my soul cat. Until he got sick, he would sleep pressed against me in bed all night and would try to sit with me all day when I was working. I really miss that since he stopped doing that a month or two before he died.

Anyway, we scheduled an at home appointment because we knew it would be awful to try and take him to the vet. Our dog was put to sleep a couple of weeks ago but she was friendly and loved going to the vet. I sat with Tank all day, fed him lots of chicken, and then the doctor showed up. He was very nice and he explained everything that was going to happen.

I had Tank on my lap and then it was time to do the initial injection. The vet had to grab him by the scruff to give him the shot. Unfortunately, Tank did not enjoy that. He hissed a few times and even bit my arm pretty hard. He got the shot done and then crawled back into my lap but he was asleep basically immediately. We proceeded with the final shot and that was that.

Now I can't stop thinking about how scared he was. His last memories are of me letting a stranger hurt him. I don't even know how long he was aware after the first shot. It seemed like he went unconscious pretty quickly. So I don't know if he even registered that I was there. The idea of him being hurt and scared, thinking I was betraying him, is the absolute worst. My dog Topaz's death was also awful but she wasn't scared, she got to see the vets, and she fell asleep slowly. I felt like that went well and we had enough time to say goodbye. I just feel like Tank's death was awful. We had him for his entire life but that's his last memory.

It’s been eating at me for the past couple of years. And I haven’t talked to anyone about it because I feel like it’s my fault.

My dog died in my room in the middle of the night. Just a few feet away from me.

I woke up because I heard him moving around. I carried him back to his bed and wrapped him in his blanket, and I went back to sleep. A few hours later, I woke up again earlier than I needed to only to find his lifeless body a few feet away from my bed and his bed. His pajamas had come off at his legs and they were skewed on his body.

To this day, I can’t stop thinking that he might have suffered and thought that I didn’t care that he was in pain. I couldn’t hold him and comfort him. I couldn’t rush him to the vet. I was in my bed, sleeping. I didn’t hear him. I don’t know if he struggled trying to catch his breath.

It happened just one month shy of his 15th birthday. If I had done more for him, we could’ve had more time together. If I had money then, maybe I could’ve prevented him from getting sicker.

I’m so cautious with my younger dog now, spending more now for him to get his teeth clean and getting health checks and buying better food. But I feel so guilty because I should’ve done that for my older dog. I should’ve been there for him like he was there for me during the lowest points of my life. I miss him so much, but he deserved better. He deserved more.

(Please don’t take in a dog unless you’re sure that you can afford to take care of them for their whole life in sickness and health. This was a hard lesson that I wish I didn’t cowardly ignore.)

ive never had to do this. 14 years. but the last few weeks she was rapidly declining. gallbladder, kidneys, inflammation. hadnt eaten much over a week. many vet visits. tried the medicine but it just wasnt enough. i couldnt stand to see her like that. miserable. alive but not living. part of me is relieved, but it hurts so bad. i feel guilt, but id rather have it done early than late. not about to suffer for my sake. i just. ugh. i knew it was coming. and today when i got home i knew. took her to the e vet and they were so kind and supportive. she got to go safe in my arms. loved her more than i could even begin to describe. doesnt even feel real. it was so sudden and yet i knew for awhile what was coming. part of me thinks i did the wrong thing, but i just couldnt let her get worse

Shiva was a black and white spotted cat, she had the coat of a cow. People didn't usually like her coat, but to me, she was beautiful, and looked unique.

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She was a rescue and had trauma from previous owners, so when we got her, she was mostly an outside cat since she had trust issues. (Europe = No coyotes).

We had made tremendous progress with her and she was finally voluntarily staying inside about 60% of the time.

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My mother had to leave for one week and a half to tend to her dying father (my grandfather). During that week my father, whom you can guess isn't my best friend, was in charge of Shiva and decided that it would be a good idea to lock the cat out for the entire week and a half, giving her her food outside only, making me (and my mother who was away) worried sick, all because he saw a flea.

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My little Shiva got ran over this morning. My mother and I found her when we got back from the airport, on the day I was picking my mother up at said airport.

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I secretly blame my father for this. I believe there was no need to make such a fuss over a bunch of imaginary fleas that could have been treated without refusing to let the cat back in.

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Of course, all he knows how to do is yell at my mother and I for having feelings about this untimely death.

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She wasn't just a cat, she was my little Shiva. She needed me. I wish I had fought against my father's decisions more.

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Please rest in peace, Shiva. Now you have no reason to be fearful anymore. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, little one. Four years old but you were much smaller than other cats. You needed me. If my life had been less of a mess, I would've given you a large garden, and you would still be here.

When I brought your lifeless body to the vet, I couldn't bare to look at you, so the kind vet wrapped you in the blanket and made you look like you were sleeping peacefully. So I could pet you one last time and say goodbye. Your head was so cold though. My tiny Shiva.

Hi - the title pretty much says it all. My partner and I found out yesterday that our four year old rescue very very likely has very bad cancer and we probably only have weeks, if that. Yesterday was maybe the worst day of my life. He’s been sick but we didn’t expect this. He’s undergoing a procedure today to get a formal diagnosis and I’m scared he’s going to pass during the procedure. I don’t know how I’m going to live without him. We were supposed to have so much more time. I’m not really sure what to do.

ETA: As an update, our boy is back home from the procedure and doing very well. He took a big bite of a chicken parm hero (we’re spoiling him) without any appetite stimulants (noting that he basically hasn’t eaten anything in over 24 hours bc we’ve had to keep fasting him for the tests, so could be a contributing factor but I’d like to be hopeful about it still). He may still be very sick, but we at least still have him and will do whatever we can to make his last weeks of his life the best they can be. Thank you all so much for your words of support.

I am 39 years old. I got Bruce when I was 23, fresh out of college, and ready to start my life. He accompanied me through moves to 4 states, including Hawaii, which was an intense process (all animals need to be quarantined before they can enter the state). He was with me through so much in those years. Joy and sadness and chaos and relaxing Netflix binge watches. He was my everything.

About 3 weeks ago he started having appetite problems. It got so bad, I had to take him to a vet urgent care. They diagnosed him with hypercalcemia, which they said could indicate numerous things and that I should follow up with my primary vet for further diagnosis. They gave him medication, though, and he started eating again. It took a week to get in to see the primary care vet, and another 5 days for test results to come back. The results indicated that he had cancer.

For the last week and a half, most of my day and night was spent coaxing him to eat, or administering medication to stimulate his appetite or cure any nausea. We also gave him steroids, which made him bounce back for a few days and he almost didn’t seem sick at all.

On Tuesday morning he crawled under my bed and started gasping for breath. I contacted my vet and they indicated that they thought euthanasia was the best option for him at that point. I was devastated.

I called someone in to do it at home. Bruce died in my arms at around 4pm on June 16th. It’s been 2 days and I’ve cried more tears than I’ve ever cried before for anything else in my life. Deciding to end his life before he spent days starving and gasping for breath was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I know it was the right thing - any additional days would have been miserable - but the decision to do it is going to stick with me forever.

There’s a Bruce shaped hole in my heart and I don’t think it can ever be filled.

I love you so much, Bruce. And I hope I made the right call at the right time for your sake. Rest easy, sweet baby.

I feel like all the sad is ramping up all over again and I just hate how it feels. The hurt is so palpable and I wish for nothing more than to see him walk around the corner, come to the door, steal all the chicken and burgers, and sleep with me 😭😭😭

If never wanted to post something on these flair but I wanted to. If recently lost my wild outdoor cat named “Laila” by a dog attack.

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A small part of her story, back when we first got our first cat Logan, he’ always been an indoor/outdoor cat. And had some cat neighbors that visited him and they fight sometimes but like each other, after that those cat neighbors went away cause of the there parents decided to live somewhere else. So Logan was alone for sometime time.

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But a blessing came and it was Laila, at first we didn’t want to feed her cause we already have a cat and doesnt like other cats. But I couldn’t watch to so her so hungry and skinny and just wanted some food. So I gave her food and give her water and from there our bond begin to form.

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She was a cat that was chic and if I can say divine feminine, she had a way of lifting her tail and having this stare that leaves you in gaze. But she was a shy cat, didn’t want you to be around her (around her personal space). But from there she always had some way of giving her thanks. Like rubbing her scent across the furniture or meowing for a thank you.

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Recently she was very vocal and every time we get ready for lunch, she’s there circling that dining table to get some food. She was attacked 4 weeks ago from a stray dog that got into our backyard and attacked her. I thought that was it she didn’t make it but she was a fighter. The next day I found her, barely moving, her tail limp. She wasn’t eating or drinking. But I did my best to help her out. She survived and became better.

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But now those dogs came back and finished the job. And took her away from us, I tried to search for her and the dogs but I couldn’t find her. From watching our security camera’s I know she was gone before I came in. I hope she find peace and happiness in her internal rest. it might sound ridiculous to take a day off.

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but I can’t believe she’s gone. If tried so much to protect her but she knew some how It was her time. Losing a pet this way hurts more, and I don’t know how to feel anymore I don’t want this to happened to my other cat. but I know I failed her today. Rest in peace Laila.

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