Roberta R. Carr, Author
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Rest-in-Peace, Zoe

11/6/2014

11 Comments

 
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On Monday, November 3, 2014 at 6:30 in the evening, our beloved cat, Zoe, died peacefully while curled up on my lap. Andy and I had hired a vet to come to our home to euthanize her because she was quite ill. On her last day of life, she enjoyed all her favorite foods: tuna, boiled chicken, milk and salmon, and she romped outside in the grass and bushes, sniffing and savoring nature’s wonders. Now, she suffers no more.

Those of you who don’t own animals won’t understanding our grief. You’ll think, “Come on, it was just a cat.” You might even suggest that we replace her since so many other cats need a home, which is true. If you know us well, you’ll recognize our anguish, and know we need time to grieve.

Zoe wasn’t just a cat. She had been a constant companion for fifteen years. When I began writing novels, Zoe would jump up on my desk and walk back and forth, brushing under my nose. She refused to stay away, driving me crazy. Finally, I bought a soft oval bed for her and set it next to my computer. She immediately curled up and went to sleep. When I had difficulty constructing a scene and erased more words than I kept, she’d sometimes reach over with her paw and place it on my right hand, watching me with her Apple Green eyes. I’d take a break to pet her, and often a fresh idea would surface. Anthropomorphic? Maybe, but I’ve written two books with her help.

Zoe loved people. When guests visited our home, she rarely hid. Instead, she’d brazenly sniff legs, rub against purses, climb into gift bags and jump in laps. My granddaughters, Collette and Sierra, loved dangling toys in front of her, watching her roll on her back and relentlessly swipe away. Zoe disliked riding in cars. When we moved from Southern to Northern California, I shared her company for eight hours, and she meowed the entire time. For her, a cat carrier plus a car ride equaled going to the vet. Veterinarians were the only people Zoe didn’t like, but they sure took good care of her.

Zoe was an indoor-only cat. One summer day, I couldn’t find her anywhere until I walked outside and spotted a black and white runaway rolling in the garden. I chased her back into the house, wondering how she'd escaped. The next day, I glanced up from a book and watched Zoe press her nose against the retractable screen door and crawl under it toward freedom. Once outside, she glanced back and, I swear, she smirked at me. We bought one of those wooden toddler gates so she couldn’t get out again, but I marveled at her ingenuity. 

I could go on and on, but there’s no need. Those of you who love your pets, know what I’m feeling and don’t need me to tell you about my loss. The danger in loving so deeply, human or otherwise, is that when the end comes, one must cope with an indescribable aching hollowness.

A light has gone out for Andy and me, but we’re so grateful to have been blessed with many years of Zoe’s energy and spunk. It was difficult to watch her chest rise and fall for the last time, but we made the right decision. She’s at peace now, and we are the ones who are suffering.

11 Comments
Gloria Zachgo
11/6/2014 03:02:02 am

I do understand. Give yourself permission to grieve. When I had to make the decision for our C.J. (of the dog variety) I was just happy at how peacefully he went. It took me months before I could finally get rid of his bed - and when I did - I lost it.
♥ G

Reply
Roberta
11/6/2014 03:09:36 am

Thanks for your good wishes, G. I see so many things that remind me of her and I just burst out crying at the weirdest times. She was my buddy, and it's going to take awhile to get over the loss.

Reply
Anne Cory-French
11/6/2014 03:26:32 am

May you take the time needed to grieve Roberta. I so understand. It is hard to feel that void. I have so loved the cats we have had as part of our lives and 15 years of companionship is something so wonderful! Hugs and healing to you.

Reply
Joella Hansen
11/6/2014 04:01:05 am

I so understand your grief. Missing them is so hard, but I wouldn't trade the memories or the time spent with them for ANYTHING. I'm so sorry for your loss.

Reply
Shawn
11/6/2014 07:47:40 am

There is no such thing as "just a cat," of course! May your sadness fade and sweet memories abound. You and Andy were excellent humans for Zoe. I'm sure you'll all share a life again.

Reply
jeanette
11/6/2014 08:59:40 am

I too have had the vet come to the house. It is my last gift to special animals. I empathize with you for your loss. Words cannot express the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you feel their soul leave their body, even though you know it was the right thing to do for them. My thoughts and prayers are with you and Andy.

Reply
Elena Rondina link
11/6/2014 09:24:28 am

My dear Roberta, I understand! my four legged babies are my second set of children. I have lost two this year, my 19 year old Austrialian Shepard and my almost 11 year old Rat Terrier.

Reply
Roberta Carr
11/6/2014 10:02:05 am

Thank you for your kind replies. It's appreciated.

Reply
Debbi
11/6/2014 11:24:09 pm

Berta, you wrote so eloquently of your dearly beloved Zoe. Fond memories will make her live forever in your heart.

Reply
Kim
11/10/2014 11:49:47 pm

Your eloquent words brought tears. She wasn't just a cat, she was family, a friend, unconditional love. Your capacity to allow yourself to feel this experience is beautiful.

Reply
Clarence P link
6/9/2022 08:52:07 am

Interesting post I enjoyed read this.

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“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
― Maya Angelou