Skip to main content

Goodbye to Steve


I didn’t know if I’d be up for writing much today…but surprisingly, I find myself wanting to sit down and say a little something. I think it’s a sort of therapy for me to express myself in this way…so here goes.

Today has been a very rough day…one of the roughest I think I’ve ever known. I’m sure to some people it seems very irrational to be so emotional about a cat…but then again, you’d just have to know how truly special Steve was. He was our first baby…and for a couple who may never know what it is like to be parents, that really means something. We rescued Steve from the humane society right after we bought our first house…he actually lived in it before we did! We knew he was special because he came right to me…he picked me. And of course, he was super smart. They had to stick a piece of cardboard in the lock of his cage, because he had figured out how to stick his little paw out and open it up himself. We knew right away he was different from most cats. He came when you called him, he always loved to curl up on your lap, he accepted and played hours on end with Penny when we brought her home, and he hardly even noticed when Buddy showed up. He was exceptionally laid back and easy going. He was 100% pure lovable cat…everyone says so. People who never liked cats, grew to love him…everyone did. He was truly, truly a great cat.

He was with us through a lot…three houses, two dogs, many, many life changes. He was there to snuggle with (and often drive me nuts) when Matt was gone all those many nights. He was there to cuddle on the couch on a cold, snowy afternoon. He was just…there. And it will be very, very strange not to have him around anymore.

Matt and I were able to be there for his last breaths…and they were quiet and peaceful. The doctor and her helper were very kind and understanding. They reassured us that we were making a good decision given his recent bowl problems, which were going to be a recurring thing. Their words comforted us, and Steve didn’t make a fuss, as she leaned down and whispered in his ear…’you are a good cat’. I softly touched the back of his head as he lay there, and then…in just a few moments…he was gone. They left us alone with him for a few minutes, as we held hands and shed our tears. I walked around and pat him once more, kissed his little head, and we said our silent goodbyes. I’ve pretty much been a blubbering mess every since…except now, as I write this post. I came home and immediately removed the litter boxes and food, opening the laundry room up to the dogs for the first time. I cried as I remembered how happy I had been setting up Steve’s little room in there…and how tickled I was the first time he ran through the cat door. I cried as I picked up the tiny cat ball he had played around with this morning. I cried and cried. I will miss him…we both will. Matt is doing his best to be strong and stoic for me…trying not to be too upset. I know we’ll both grieve in our own ways…and I think writing this might be mine. I know in the coming days the depth of my grief will slowly subside and we will go on…but our little family will be different, and that’s a tough pill to swallow. I’m grateful for all the good memories, and I’m glad I have Penny and Buddy to look after and care for…and of course, I’m so lucky to have Matt beside me to lean on.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Carrie Anne - The Beginning of the Story

So, I’ve been trying to sort out how to start this story. It’s been difficult to articulate. Difficult to pick which details to share, and which to hold close. But it’s a story too good, too beautiful, not to share – so here goes! When Matt and I first became parents, we thought our family was complete. We envisioned raising Ethan surrounded by loving friends and family – just the two of us. Given all that we had gone through to finally become parents, we felt content with just the one child. The most adorable boy in the whole wide world. Our Ethan was the apple of our eyes – the most amazing gift. We marveled at all of his accomplishments, soaked up all his love and personality, and celebrated the joy of parenthood at every exhausting, wonderful turn. Along the way, we’ve built a strong and loving relationship with Ethan’s birthmother. We visit yearly, and stay in close contact with pictures, emails, and texts. I have attempted to describe my feelings for her many times over the co…

Carrie - The Wait and the Big Arrival!

We arrived in Florida midday Saturday and made our way to the hospital where we met up with Ethan’s birthmother and her mother. We spent a long afternoon in the waiting room while the doctors and nurses put L through a myriad of tests. Finally, they verified the need to induce labor and proceeded to admit her to the hospital with plans to start the induction process Sunday. Exhausted, we left to check in at the hotel and ate what we thought may be our last supper before the baby came…but…. Sunday we arrived at the hospital mid-morning to see how things were progressing. The nurses gave L a medication to help start the dilation process around 12:30 PM…and told us it would likely take 12 hours for things to progress. We stepped out to enjoy the Florida sunshine for lunch for a bit, then settled in for the long haul at the hospital. We spent all afternoon, evening, and night together – holding watch over L as she slept. As we sat there, listening to the baby’s heart beating on the monit…

I may as well tell you...

I had a miscarriage. I’ve debated for weeks whether or not to acknowledge it publicly. It’s such a personal thing…and this is such a public medium. But a few months have gone by and I’m no closer to feeling ok about it and truly nothing else on my mind really compares, so here I am, letting the world in on my secret. Over the past few weeks I’ve found very little comfort in the fact that only a small handful of people know about the miscarriage. It became nearly unbearable this week, during all our wonderful family Christmas celebrations. Being surrounded by so many people who love me and support me and have no idea how my heart has been broken – it’s a lonely place to be. Not that I would want them all to bombard me with pity or questions or sad looks in their eyes – I realize I can’t have it both ways. But a little acknowledgement goes a long way and I simply can’t ignore or deny the fact that something major happened in my life and impacted me, impacts me still.
It was a warm, sunn…