Blessed Aurora

There’s an emptiness in my stomach - it aches, I mourn, I grieve, I‘m a weeping willow. I miss my little darling, the one who was just for me, the one who weighed a mere 60 grams at birth but had the best lunges in the world. And how she cried then, just for me. Like I now do for her.

We got nearly 14 good years together. She was the ancestress of my breeding, my stately showstopper, but most of all my very best friend on four legs. When I was sad she wiped my tears and comforted me, when I was happy she shared my laughter. She covered my face with small, wet catkisses.

It’s not the first time I've been forced to make a difficult decision concerning the quality of life of a furry one - and it most certainly won’t be the last. But some of them are so much more emotional to make, they leave such overwhelming pain, so many thoughts of doubt and questions.

Could I have made a better decision earlier, or perhaps I made the wrong decision now? But all that really matters is of course to ease as much pain and suffering as possible. And cats are such brave, enigmatic beings, they suffer stoically. They’re so difficult to read and interpret, no matter how long you’ve lived side by side.

One has to go with intuition, but does my gut feeling serve me right when it’s so hard to make that final, point of absolutely no return decision? Do I drag on the decision making because the consequences are just so unbearable? Or am I too quick on making that final decision since I want to be brave and not egoistic when it comes to the suffering of the small and innocent?

Perhaps I interpreted wrong, perhaps there was actually some simple fix that could have made it all better? A little band aid, a tiny pill, some miracle ointment - just so we could have some more time together. Some more time to laugh and cry, to cuddle, to remember the good days, to say goodbye. Some more time to sense that very special scent of something resembling honey on that little almost furless spot between your ear and your eye. The scent of you, just you.

I wasn’t sure I would write a word about this awful, horrible, unthinkable thing I had to make a decision on - but writing is good, writing is therapy. Always. Sometimes I write to keep difficult thoughts away. Sometimes I write to sort things out, making writing a way to make a decision. Sometimes I just have to belabour hardship, and what better way than to put those thoughts into words and to paper/screen.

Yes it’s good to write, it soothes the pain, but even so, I know I for some time now, will have that knot of sorrow buried in my stomach, the self doubt over the decision I made, the ups - when I think of all the joy we shared over the years, how proud and blessed I was of having and knowing such a beautiful as well as sweetness personified cat -

the downs - when I cry my heart out piece by little piece because I miss her so much and there will never ever exist anyone like her ever again.

Yes there are others, there have been others, they're such darlings everyone of them, but there just isn't another with a personality like hers, it was the two of us, me and her, my very own furball goddess of aurora.

Little dreamy furface, Aurora, with your kind soul, you’ll forever have a very special place in my heart. I miss you and always will. Be safe, be happy over there.