(TW: pet loss)
i am completely overwhelmed at the moment and i'm still on this emotional rollercoaster. first, it was my birthday. i turned 21 last week, and i thought this would be the most uneventful birthday so far. the house is under renovations and so we're tight on budget. no talks of eating out, trips, or even gifts, so when i woke up the morning of my birthday with 1,500 in a red envelope and a platter of sushi, i was shocked, and you can only image how even more shocked i was with the amount of birthday wishes i received from my orgmates and co-executive board members. for the first time, i was on people's stories. my band posted me, my org posted me. greetings set to the songs strawberry girl, drugstore perfume, and i will for once made me feel seen and understood in a way i never expected i'd see. i was overjoyed until a few days later, my cat yobi started to show signs of sickness.
friday evening, he was meowing like something is wrong. he moved slowly, his tail stiff and parallel to his body in pain. he kept hiding in places, and it was that that scared me the most. i couldn't sleep well that night, i hoped he would be fine the next morning because he was often sick this way, but he wasn't. he crawled out from under the shoe rack still moving slowly. his breathing was in spasms, and he kept rotating between different resting spots: in the bathroom, under the dinner table, under the couch, by the front door. i left home to pay my dorm room's rent and the entire time i was thinking about him. i was so scared to open my messages and find that he's gone. every morning, i wake up scared to hear that he's gone, and every morning, i'm scared to see how worse he looks. i was guilty for being unable to send him to the vet because i'm a student--i have no money. i was furious that no one was taking him to the vet either, they don't even seem to consider it besides me and my sister, in fact, no one seems to be alarmed. it was monday when i last saw him. he looked the worst that day, he looked practically dead, and i winced at the sight of him. in broad daylight, i was sobbing, not just from the idea of losing a pet but also the idea that we didn't do anything, that something i loved so dearly was suffering under our care and we weren't doing anything. his face, his breathing, all imprinted in my brain and mo matter how hard i scrub, it's still in there. i think he died that day, which was unfortunately a day before my sister takes me out to the city to see a musical as a birthday present.
there was a "the guy who didn't like musicals" production in the city, a musical originally from starkid which had me and my sister at its claws back in the pandemic. it was technically a workshop, but a lot of the cast are already experienced, albeit not professionally. that being said however, it was phenomenal, granted it's a workshop and the fruit of only 4 weeks of learning. it was the first time i had to find my way around the city on my own, and it's silly at this age, but it felt like a feat. my family never seems to let me out to the city, so this was noteworthy. i had a lot of fun on this day out, but during every silence, my kind drifts back to our cat. i'm glad it was a musical, not a moment of distracting silence to keep my grief at bay. i had fun, but i don't feel like i have the right to have fun. my cat suffered for days, my cat died, and i was out in the city eating popeye's at 11 in the evening.
i remember the last time i experienced pet loss, it was grueling. i survived by holding onto the belief that he lived a happy life. i can't bear the thought that cats don't understand how loved they are, but for the sake of my sanity, i believed in it. i thought that even if my life was short, to be loved and cared for by these giants and feed me and housed me for my entire life, i'd have died happy, but i can't help but feel like i failed this cat, and for that, he suffered for a long time. he was wheezing for days, we should have taken him to the vet the day his breathing persisted, but we didn't, and i'm wracked with guilt. i can't help but think i should have taken him to the vet anyways and just prayed for a financial miracle. can i really hold on to the same belief that kept me sane last time? can i hold on to this feeling for another few months until somehow, my grief subsided? i still remember that lump in my throat, that weight on my heart the first time, i don't want it again.