Some angels have wings, others have paws

Earlier today, I left the veterinarian’s office with Bella's collar in one hand and her empty pet carrier in the other.

I’m currently in denial of this entering into this new reality… of entering into a post-Bella era. I know the world will keep on turning; but my world is going to be at a standstill for a while.

My drive home was quiet. No music, just my thoughts mainly grateful I’ve had the week to prepare for today.

“I’ve been emotionally exhausted all week and thought I was already out of tears even before it was time for her to end her journey.”

Chad B.

I walked into an empty house for the first time in a long long time as Bella had always been a constant to come home to. The house now has a deafening silence to it. What broke me after getting home was seeing the empty chair in the dining room (aka her spot) where she used to sit and overlook the backyard, meow/”chirp”/meow at birds, and of course… take her naps.

The Bella-less house has remnants of unused cat toys, shoestring, lots of cardboard boxes, a few water bowls, a half-empty food bowl, her medicine, and dry food all over the place. Elsewhere, I see her favorite brush, a litter box, bags of cat treats, and fur; so much fur. In the living room sits a blue recliner she had claimed since she was a kitten (despite being too short to actually recline in it), which over the years got coated in fur. Pet stairs to my bed remain in my bedroom as she had trouble jumping up and down from the bed these past few years.

As I said, I’m grateful I was given the chance to say goodbye this week. I’m grateful to have spent some intentional final days with her; days knowing it would be our last together. Although, she didn’t love how much I was smothering her.

I let her finish off the rest of the tuna and didn’t bother giving her the rest of the “healthy” cat food. She even tried ice cream and cool whip for the first time; let the record show she was a fan of both and (I’m guessing) was mad at me for hiding both from her all these years.

In the last few weeks, I could tell something was off. She was not behaving or operating in her normal routine and was notably distant as well as eating less. She didn’t want to be touched or picked up. She wouldn’t lie in bed with me very long before getting up to venture back to one of her spots. At 15+ she was already on lots of meds and her kidneys hadn’t been doing so well. Blood results at the vet on Monday confirmed my fear; they confirmed she was getting worse. And even though a few additional types of medicine might prolong her life a few months, they were invasive and weren’t guaranteed to even work. So a decision had to be made. A tough decision I put off facing as long as I could… setting a day and time to put her to sleep. I prefer to think of it as a long cat nap. I knew I had to be okay with lettering her go.

I’ve been emotionally exhausted all week and thought I was already out of tears even before it was time for her to end her journey. All week I had been dreading 4:30 this afternoon – the last available time the vet had.

I was able to be there with her as the vet put her to sleep. I was the last thing she saw before she took her final breath with her little head cupped in my hands and her soul left her worn-out vessel. I remained in the room for 30 more minutes. It took me a while to catch my breath again before leaving. I was dazed, my vision was blurry, and my face was red.

The vet will provide me paw prints later as well as her ashes. I took photos of her paws earlier to make a temporary print tattoo. She certainly left a print on me over the years.

On Instagram stories, I hear this voiceover with someone holding a cat, “when someone says it's just a cat, but that cat is your entire world.” Or, “without my cat, my house would be clean and my wallet would be full, but my heart would be empty.” Both those statements have never felt so true. Bella had a piece of my heart – she was my one and only extremely spoiled furry kid.

Also, writing about her in the past tense is harder than I expected.

In the end, she was my little furry angel. As a saying I saw once goes, “some angels have wings, others have paws.”

I know the question often becomes, will I get another cat? I’m not sure. I’m 100% convinced God made Bella just for me. She came into my life when I was dating a woman named Jenn. After Jenn and I split, Jenn asked if I wanted Bella and I did. Bella and I had a strong bond by then and I couldn’t imagine not taking her with me. Miss Bella Maree Bring would then be by my side through life’s ups and downs for the next 15+ years. Having another cat isn’t something I can’t even think about entertaining the idea of.

I know many of you don’t know what to say or do and that is okay (note: reading this fully is appreciated), I’m not sure what I’d say if I were you and I still don’t know what I need other than friends and family to check up on me from time to time and request a “Bella-story” if you are brave enough to sit through it. When you see the clock at 4:30; have a snack, think of me and Bella, hug your pet, “meow” at something or someone - and/or take a moment to count your blessings.

Important life lessons learned from Bella: take lots of naps, announce when you have arrived, have some favorite spots to sit and think, take time to meow at birds, and eat snacks. Also, run around the house for no reason in the middle of the night. Finally, get into all the mischief you can.

Final thoughts:

The firsts without her are going to be hard… Facebook will remind me of birthday memories on Sept 19th and love your pet day from past posts. That is going to knock the wind out of me. And many other days where a memory from the last almost 16 years will pop into my mind like going down the pet aisle at the grocery store because it is part of my trip.

Or seeing a picture on my phone or pictures from the Bella-folder on my computer.

Or being with family at Thanksgiving and not having a to-go container of turkey to bring home for her.

Or being at my parents’ house at Christmas and not seeing Bella’s little kitty stocking.

Or the alarm on my phone to give her meds.

Or not seeing her zonked out on “her side” of the bed.

(sigh) Companies should think about offering bereavement for the loss of a pet.

Goodbye ya sweet lil goofball, I wish you the most peaceful cat nap. You deserve it. And thank you for being in my life. I hope I gave you a great life. I love you and I will miss you greatly.

I’m sad, yes – but grateful she was part of my life for a decade and a half. Part of my heart may now be empty, but she’ll still be alive in memories and pictures and stories.

Regards,

Chad (aka Bella’s “hooman” Dad)