It was 2007, I was 13 years old, and me and my brother were playing football in a park next to a busy road. We saw a kitten come over to say hello, and noticed that she was crossing the road with little thought of the risk. It was obvious that she was going to be in an accident if she was left there, so we temporarily brought her home to keep her safe, leaving a note of our address for her owners. No one ever came, so we took her in. She’s been a part of our family for nearly two decades.
I’ve owned seven cats, four dogs, and three rabbits during my life, but the experience of losing one never gets any easier.
While I am thankful most of my pets died naturally of old age, I lost one cat to a road accident when I was nine. Before that, the only pet death I experienced was my cat Dusty passing away peacefully of old age. Chucky was only three, and the shock of it means that all of my cats have been housebound after that.
The grief of losing them lingers for a long time even when a pet dies peacefully, rendering me a wreck as I try to navigate life without them.
My current cat, Lacey, recently turned 19, and there’s a growing part of my mind that is dreading the inevitable. Lacey is relatively healthy despite her age, still aware of surroundings, still with a strong appetite (with a particular fondness for chicken), and still active. However, the telltale signs of aging are beginning to become more apparent. She’s developed arthritis in her legs, and even though she is still active, there have been an increasing number of accidents as she tries and fails to climb onto my desk to get to her bed.
This is one of the times when my overactive brain gets the better of me. Even though there’s no sign of her passing imminently, I’m still gripped with fear.
Time marches on
Her increasing age has made me think about my own life, how quickly it’s passing by. I turn 32 in a few weeks, which I’m aware is not that old, but as time passes I’m realizing that certain parts of my life are becoming increasingly distant. But I clearly remember when we brought Lacey home.
This is all fresh in my mind, and yet it happened 19 years ago. An increasing feeling I’m experiencing right now is vividly remembering something like it was yesterday, only to realize that it actually happened a decade or more ago. A decade. This, coupled with OCD intrusive thoughts, is giving me an early midlife crisis.
I’ve owned many pets, and yet Lacey is part of a group that defined my childhood. There was her, Freddie, Poppy, and Barney and dogs Mickey and Jessie. Lacey is the only one that remains, and I worry that by losing her I’ll be losing the last link to my childhood. I adopted two dogs six years ago, and while I love them dearly, I share a special bond with Lacey that goes back. Decades.
I’m aware that losing Lacey is going to hurt, but I wonder if losing the final part of my childhood could end up hurting more. I’m already feeling the existential dread of getting older, which has been exacerbated by the state of the world. Lacey is the last tangible link to my childhood, and I don’t know how to feel about that.
It can be difficult sometimes to cope with rapid change, and I dread how I’m going to react when Lacey eventually passes on. In the meantime, I’m making a concerted effort not to worry about that day, and enjoy the time I have left. After all, Lacey is still in good health, so it’s not out of the question that she could live for a good few years yet.
I don’t want to spoil the time I have left with her, so I’m going to keep cuddling her and not think too hard about the future.
I’m going to enjoy this moment while it lasts.
