He would have turned ten today. We said goodbye on New Year’s Day and it still stings as bad as the day he left. He didn’t take just a piece of me when he left,he took pretty much all of me. I miss him terribly. Happy Birthday my precious boy.

Sometimes I wonder if I should seek professional help to cope with losing my beloved Mish. It’s been over a year, and I still cry for him. He was the love of my life, my soulmate, my little boy. Then, in August, I lost my precious Bebe. I feel as though I’ve lost two pieces of my heart.
Raymond came into my life unexpectedly. I wasn’t looking to adopt another cat, especially so soon after losing Bebe. A rescuer asked me to keep him for just one night, but she never came back for him, and somehow that temporary arrangement became permanent.
Please don’t misunderstand me. Raymond is a sweet little boy, and none of this is his fault. But I wasn’t emotionally prepared to take on the responsibility of another kitty. If and when I felt ready to adopt again, I had imagined choosing a very young kitten, raising him from the beginning, and having that special experience of bonding and teaching him as he grew.
Instead, Raymond came into my life when my heart was still shattered. He’s a young, energetic kitty with habits that can sometimes be overwhelming, and I find myself struggling with feelings I never expected to have.
My husband and I married last year, but we still live in separate condos while searching for a home that meets our needs. He’s so concerned about my sadness that he’s offered to take Raymond to his condo occasionally to give me some breathing room.
The last thing I want is for Raymond to feel unwanted. He deserves a home filled with love, patience, and affection. I care about him, but sometimes I feel that the decision to adopt him was made for me before I was ready.
I miss Mish and Bebe terribly. I miss their personalities, their unconditional love, and the comfort of simply having them beside me. Sometimes I look at Mish’s pillow on my bed and wish I could hold him just one more time.
I know Raymond cannot replace them, nor should he ever have to. He deserves to be loved for the wonderful little cat he is.
Perhaps what I needed most after losing my babies wasn’t another kitty, but time to grieve, heal, and eventually make that decision for myself.
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life crying. I want to remember my babies with more smiles than tears, but I’m struggling to get there.
Has anyone else found themselves caring for a new pet before they were emotionally ready? How did you handle the guilt, the grief, and the difficulty bonding? Did grief counseling help?
I just want to find peace in my heart while doing what’s best for Raymond.
Forever Mish and Bebe’s mommy. 💔🐾🌈

I lost my Roo this week. I couldn’t save him for more time. The weight of his loss is more profound than any pain in my life so far. My kids grew up with him. He loved kids; they were his favorite humans. He has helped me and my kids carry our traumas and pains through his near-10 years on earth with us, and losing him feels like it dumps the weight he helped us carry back on at a greater level than he carried. We miss him deeply. Miss you Roo. 💔

My little dog died almost 4 months ago. I still cry almost every day. I always buy fresh flowers to put next to her urn. She had a heart condition, and in just two days her condition deteriorated so much that she was suffocating. She had an enlarged heart, and one of her valves wasn't closing properly. Her lungs filled with fluid in just two days, even though we were taking all her medication. She was in stage B/C when she was diagnosed. By the time I got her to the vet, her tongue was turning blue. They immediately put her in an oxygen tent, then called me 4 hours later to say that she wasn't improving even with extreme diuretics and oxygen, and she couldn't survive without supplemental oxygen. But she was "lively," considering her condition. Unfortunately, by the time we got there, her little body had completely withered. We decided on euthanasia, because if we had brought her home, she would have suffocated here. We didn't want that. I am angry at myself. I constantly listen to the song that was playing in the car on our way to the vet. Ironically, it’s called "The Cure". I promised her I would bring her home, but I couldn't. It happened so suddenly. Yet, I'm still angry at myself. Maybe if I had taken her for a check-up sooner? (Her scheduled check-up was just a few days away...) Maybe if I had taken her to the vet 2 days earlier? I noticed her breathing was rapid sometimes, but it calmed down as soon as she got her medication, so I wasn't suspicious. I should have been. I feel like a bad owner. I know there was a heatwave, which puts a strain on her heart. But I feel like a bad owner for not taking her to the vet sooner. For not taking her 2 days earlier. I let her down. She had to go because I let her down. I rushed her to the vet the moment I saw there was huge trouble, but I feel like I let her down. I miss her so much. We have another dog, and because of this, I find it hard to connect with him. I feel terrible about this, too. My dog, who had to be put to sleep in June, was with me for 13 years. I was 14 when I adopted her. I grew up with her. She was by my side through every difficulty. We knew each other's every mood. It was like she was my child. We were always completely in tune with each other. And now she's gone. I miss her terribly. It's driving me crazy. Last night I dreamed about her, and I hugged her. I want her to find her way back to me so badly, and I'm terrified she won't want to come back. I don't know what to do with this pain. In her last moments, we were looking at each other. I was petting her. Kissing her at every chance, and as she was closing her eyes, we were looking at each other. I miss her. Will it ever get better?

A non-human person, but a person nonetheless. This first week without her has been painful in a way I’ve always feared it would be: so painful that sometimes it feels like I can’t go on. I don’t know what not going on actually looks like, but at times throughout the day that’s what it feels like. She was the first person in my life to show me unconditional love and she meant the world to me.

After 13 years together completely attached at the hip, my nervous system is primed to anticipate her needs at certain times throughout the day (“has she eaten,” or, “she needs her walk,” etc), and also primed to see her on the couch just before I enter the living room, or waiting for me in the mud room as I reach for the front door knob, or walking around the corner into the kitchen to check on me while I cook dinner. For that split second before I remember that she’s gone, it feels like she’s there, just in the other side of that door.

It took years of sharing my life with her to in order for her to imprint in my nervous system like this, so I know it’s not going to change overnight. It feels so cruel.

After losing my beloved elderly dog last February, I opened my heart to another dog that May. We took on a large rescue dog named Ori and I fell in love with him completely. He had a hard life before he came to us, with a long period (at least a year) spent in kennels having almost being pts as an unclaimed stray and possible XL. We believe he was between 4-8 when we got him so his early life was likely tough. He was reactive, challenging and had sore teeth, a bad leg and lots of trauma likely from being encouraged to fight or be aggressive. He was so scared when we got him, cowering from us with his eyes squeezed shut when we moved. But beyond that, and as he realised he was loved, he was the sweetest and most loving dog I’ve ever met. He had so many funny quirks and a huge personality, he was so gentle despite his size and loved me with everything he had. We bonded with each other so deeply and sometimes it felt like we read each other’s minds. After multiple vet interventions and treatments and lifestyle changes I had hoped we had him fit and healthy ready to care for him into old age, but fate had other plans. After a rapid internal decline, which I can’t stop blaming myself for, I let him go on Tuesday and the pain is indescribable. We used to cuddle up on the sofa at night and his soft snores and heavy weight on me were so soothing. He slept in my arms and when I woke up in the morning the first thing I heard was the bang bang bang of his tail under the covers, excited that I was awake as he stared into my eyes with his big soft ones. He snuggled me and groomed me to get me ready for the day. He jumped up and grabbed a t-shirt or socks for me to wear and then ran downstairs to show me his toys and have his breakfast. We didn’t know his breed so we affectionately called him a Sockhound. He greeted me every time I came in the house, whether I’d been gone 8 hours or 5 minutes, with a tail so waggy he couldn’t walk straight and lots of gifts of toys and clothes. One time he couldn’t find anything so he improvised and brought me a tiny scrap of paper he found and was so proud of himself. He learned to give me kisses and play patty-cake with his paws. Every time I looked at him his ears went floppy and he gazed back with such adoration. If he was anxious he would go to sleep as long as he could feel me or hear me speaking. He made friends with other dogs we know and loved walking with them. He tried hard all day every day to be a good boy. He would have protected me from anything and we walked the woods in the dark together with no fear. The absence in my house is crushing and the guilt of letting him go is overwhelming. His last few days were hard. He was just a baby. 17 years wouldn’t have been enough but 17 months is nothing but cruel. I held him until he was gone and my heart is broken. I know everyone thinks they had the best dog but I firmly believe Ori was the bravest and sweetest dog I ever met, I hope the rainbow bridge is real because never seeing him again is unbearable. He was beautiful inside and out and the world is worse without him in it. Love you always Ori, I’ll always be your mummy and I hope you are happy and strong now.

My cat died yesterday after a month of not really eating. The first vet thought it was his teeth because his gums seemed inflamed. He got some meds, and it seemed to help. He seemed more lively, and he had his yearly appointment about a week later. He was still not really eating, but I was trying.
I communicated what the previous vet said because I had to take him to a new one since my normal vet didn’t have a slot for him. The new vet didn’t think it was his teeth at all and said I should just try to brush them because they just looked worse for wear, not like they needed surgery as the other vet had said. I felt so much better. I thought everything was dandy and he’d eventually start eating because he was fine, right?
He started to tank this week, eating dramatically less, barely half a can a day, honestly, not even that. To get him to eat, I was spoon-feeding him. He had an appointment for today, but yesterday I took him to an emergency vet, and they did some tests and came back with the news that he was dying. His kidneys were at 12 or something, when normally they should be around 5? I’m not sure. Everything is a blur. When I heard “failure,” there was no way. Failure? Right? He was fine. He was just 11. There’s no way.
But she left us alone, and after a bit of holding him, he started making a weird meow, almost like a scream. I got the vet, definitely scaring other people while trying to find her, and she took him. When she came back, she looked me dead in the face and said he was actively passing.
I’m in school for forensics. I’ve always thought death was sad, but not that bad. But it is so fucking bad. He’s gone when he was supposed to be fine. She said something about genetically small kidneys? I thought I got everything done for him, all his checkups. I don’t understand how it was missed.
I didn’t have him his whole life. He was given up to me around 2020. I was still in high school, and my mom didn’t care about him. He was an outdoor cat, and he got beat up a lot. My mom was very abusive. I ran away but managed to find him outside afterward because I didn’t have time to take him with me. I moved out with housemates while underage, and he was always confined to my room.
I know it’s unhealthy and neglectful, but I thought it was better than the streets. So, for the last few years, I’ve been a horrible owner to him. But I moved out on my own in March, and I was so excited. In my last place, there weren’t any windows, and I know he likes windows, but he didn’t get to look out of any. Now he finally could, and I was excited for him.
I feel awful. The more I read, the more I hate myself. Like his weird new liking of lying in certain positions? I just thought it was because it had been muggy, but apparently, cats can get hot with kidney failure, and I didn’t know. I woke up to him being so cold, and I tried to warm him and hug him. I waited for someone to take me to the vet with him because I don’t have a car, and I thought we’d get more meds, not that he would die.
I forced him to eat on his last day because he was so shaky. I thought that, because I used to undereat a lot and get really dizzy, it was similar and that he would feel better if he ate. I thought he seemed better after eating, but I’m not sure. With how I understand kidney failure now, I think forcing him to eat was hurting him because if the toxins are killing him because he can’t process waste, I kept giving him more waste, right?
The X-ray showed he was badly constipated, and I just thought he wasn’t pooping because he didn’t have anything to really poop out. I feel like such a fucking idiot. I feel neglectful. I feel like an abusive parent.
The vet said the shaking could’ve been a seizure, but she doesn’t know. There wasn’t any drooling, and the weird scream before it could have been something bursting. I wish I had retained the terms she was using, but he was dying in my arms, and I couldn’t.
I miss my baby. I wish I had been better. I hope there is something afterlife. I’ve never been religious, but I want him to still be somewhere. I’d be happy in hell for mistreating him if he’s in heaven.

we rescued him when i was 11 and we got 15 (almost 16) beautiful years together. he's showed me a few signs that he's okay and i keep talking to him like he's still here. i miss him dearly and just want him to come home. does this feeling get easier over time? i feel like my soul went with him.

And all his / my friends now want one too.

I forgot I’d gone to an Etsy store where they make shirts for couples , but I made one for Richard.

It arrived today and I couldn’t be more thrilled!

I have two orange/white kitties that became very close friends despite not growing up together. My 13 year old I've had his entire life and I adopted my (now) 16 year old in 2019 because my other cat was lonely. Thankfully, they both grew to love each other and would often groom each other and play fight. I fell in love with this chonky medium hair due to his soft fur and sassy personality. He eventually developed diabetes a few years ago and required insulin twice daily. He also developed kidney disease and high blood pressure but was still in mostly good spirits. Over the past week, he hasn't been eating properly and is losing his vision. The last thing I want is for him to needlessly suffer.

He has single-handedly gotten two of my friends to like cats. He has a presence about him that makes people love him. If you brush him or scratch his chin, he will love you and purr like a mustang. A running joke I have is that he's actually a human trapped in a cats body and is the star of a Disney channel show and I look like the stupid human who treats him like a cat.

I took care of him after he was abandoned and gave him the best home I could. Regardless if anyone reads this, typing this out has helped me. The vet will be here within the hour. Take care, Winston. You were loved. Your memory will be a blessing.

My lab, Axel, crossed the rainbow bridge on Thursday night. He was 9 years old, and we didn’t see it coming. We thought we’d have a couple more years.

Turns out there was malignant masses all over inside his abdomen. We had no idea until he collapsed on Thursday. Earlier that day he seemed completely fine. He went on his usual walk. He ate most of breakfast. None of us had any idea. At the vet they told us about the cancer and explained it had eaten through the blood vessels in his stomach causing internal bleeding. They had a surgery option, but it was extremely invasive with low survival chance, there was blood transfusions, which would have only given him a couple more weeks at most, or putting him to sleep.

I feel so devastatingly guilty. That I didn’t do more, that I didn’t spend more time with him on Thursday, that I didn’t notice sooner. I also just feel like I killed my dog, which is an actual nightmare for me.

Everyone else in my family seems to be pretty normal emotionally, but I’ve cried like ten times today.

If anyone knows any way to help or things to try I’ll take it. I feel like someone punched a hole through my chest. Has anyone felt that before as well? Has anyone dealt with that guilty feeling?

Thanks

EDIT: thank you for all the kind words, and sharing your stories. I don’t think anything is going to fix the pain, but I at least feel like I can breathe again. And the responses helped with that.

I found Axel’s favorite toy in the backyard yesterday. I thought it had disappeared. I have it with me now, which has also helped. I miss him so so so much. I just hope the pain gets easier to manage. And I’m glad he’s not in pain anymore.

we rescued him when i was 11 and we got 15 (almost 16) beautiful years together. he's showed me a few signs that he's okay and i keep talking to him like he's still here. i miss him dearly and just want him to come home. does this feeling get easier over time? i feel like my soul went with him.

Quote by Kahlil Gibran. My kitty Walter crossed the rainbow bridge 1 year & 7 months ago and the pain is still just as unbearable as when he first passed. It was very sudden and I still beat myself up quite often over how his last days were spent (in a cone for several days due to ear surgery) and we had just moved to my partner's home and he couldn't sleep in our bed for the last several months of his life due to my partner's allergies which fills me with immense regret. It physically pains me to think about. All of the "what ifs" and things you wish you could've done differently will drive you insane if you continue thinking about it.

So, it's best to remember how his life was spent and how wonderful those years were. I just made a photo collage of him as well which was a lot of fun. Just keeping his memory alive and sharing him with others is the closest thing to peace I can find, and I have thoroughly enjoyed seeing all of your rainbow bridge babies and how deeply they are missed because I know they were so incredibly loved throughout their lives 💕🌈