Dear Cookie:
I understand completely how upset you and your husband must be. I lost my sweet and beautiful Birman cat Raffi a couple of years ago to a mysterious disease in the cat world called FIP (Feline Infectious Peridontitus). At least, that's what my vet believed it to be -- there are no conclusive tests for FIP. After a horrific rollercoaster ride of hope and despair, forced feedings and many trips to the vet, I could not take watching my poor baby wither away to skin and bones any longer. So I had Raffi put down. The saddest day of my life!
I never knew I had so many tears in me. I kept on breaking down -- at the office, at home, on my way to the gym when I'd just sit down on a city bench and rock back and forth saying "My poor baby, my poor baby!". Your description of "devastation" is accurate. My world turned grey.
What had a cathartic effect on me was writing a eulogy for Raffi and sending it out to my family and close friends. I've posted it below.
"My sweet Raffi:
As well as being very beautiful with his luxuriously long soft fur and wise sapphire blue eyes, Raffi was an extremely sweet-natured, kind and affectionate cat. I'll miss him lying on the cat tree by the window soaking up the last rays of sun of the day. I'll miss him playing with my shoelaces as I'd try to take off my running shoes when I got back from work, and his disappointment when I'd be wearing boots. I'll miss the way he would stealthily work his way onto my lap and once there, would purr, purr, purr. I'll miss the way he would roll on his back for me to shag his belly, not once trying to bite or scratch me. I'll miss him at night when I go to bed and he doesn't come in for his nightly snugglefest. I'll miss the very funny "Humff!" noise he'd make every time Lilliput disturbed him (which was all time!).
But the healing for me has begun. I put my grief on speed-dial with lots of boo-hoo's but I'm doing a lot less crying now. Having my fiercely lovin' Beau and that little lovable rascal Lilliput around is making it a lot easier."
Now I love my remaining two cats even more -- I hold them close to me and tell them how much I love them. Can't seem to stop kissing them even though I get cat hairs embedded in my lipstick!
I've had two dreams about Raffi since he died. The first one was more of a ghoulish nightmare with Raffi coming out of a cave with cobwebs in his eyes and his beautiful long fur matted and dirty (very bizarre!). But in the second dream Raffi was with me and very content. I awoke with the remembrance of sunshine flooding the apartment and Raffi gazing at me with his wise, "twilight" eyes as if to say "I'm OK. Don't worry about me any more".
Cookie, your grief will subside and will get gentler and yellower as time goes on. For now, let yourself go through it, turn around and face it head-on, don't try to avoid it. But also give the living a big hug -- your husband, your remaining cat -- and tell them how much you love them.
I send you all my best! Things will be better -- you'll see!
Patricia
