I’m Not Ready For Her To Leave Yet


The minute she was released from her cage at the RSPCA centre, she walked over to me and pushed her head against my hand.

“I want her. Definitely this one.”

Two weeks later she arrived at my house and after she had finished exploring she promptly settled down on the back of the couch and went to sleep.

Since 2002 this bundle of fluff has been my constant in life, my little companion that has seen me through the best and the worst of times. When my parents went through a horrific divorce, she was there. She greeted me upon my return home after I graduated. She sat on my lap as I typed my CV and cover letter for my first job application, and celebrated with me when I was successful. She has assisted in many a late night marking session by chewing my pens, sitting on my books and batting my worksheets around the room. She was there when I started a new relationship and she was there when it ended. She’s attempted to eat Christmas dinner with me on many occasions, grumbling at me when she’s been removed from the table. She’s cheered my family and friends up when they’ve visited and has taken great delight in waking my mother up at 5.00am just so she can have breakfast, thanking her later by vomiting on the floor. She’s killed many a stuffed mouse, has turned golden retrievers ten times her size into cowering messes in the corner of the room and makes sure that the other two know who is boss. She’s stubborn and she’s a grumpy old mare.

Most importantly, she had loved me unconditionally and without judgement, jumping on me every night to wish me goodnight before going to her own bed. She has never put me down or made me feel bad about myself, always greeting me at the door with a chirp and expectations of a cuddle. When others have left me, she’s never failed to be there to remind me that there are more important things in life. She’s my little friend.

The vet says that she’s ill. It could be a tumour, feline leukaemia or cancer, but we won’t know until she’s had further tests. This isn’t allowed to happen – I can’t protect her from this.

The fact of the matter is that I’m simply not ready for her to leave me yet…

Note: Please forgive me for the lack of replies to your lovely comments… It’s been a ridiculously busy time but I wanted to say thank you very much for being so supportive…

56 thoughts on “I’m Not Ready For Her To Leave Yet

  1. I’m reaching out to you with a big hug. You need that at a time like this. I’ve lost my Missy (poodle) at 15, and Buster (exotic). Missy from old age, and Buster from a variety of sicknesses at age 3. It tears your heart out, and they are deeply embedded in mine. I hope that whatever is wrong with her can be helped. She knows you will do whatever necessary to ease her discomfort. I’ll be thinking of you (and her), and will look forward to your next blog, informing us of her condition. Another big hug.

  2. Oh gosh… tears in my eyes. I’ve been down this path once with a rescue dog I got while in college. He blessed my life for 12 years. Our stories are nearly the same. There are no words to describe how difficult this crossroad is. My heart hurts for you.

  3. My dog has recently been diagnosed with a tumor, but a biopsy is not going to be done because she may not make it out of anesthesia. She’s anywhere between 12 and 15 (we rescued her 9 years ago, she was my Christmas present) and I have come to realize in her old age, she truly is my best friend. She does not play (we think she was abused) but her favorite “game” is hide-and-seek: I hide somewhere in the house, call her name, and she comes to find me. My favorite “game” is “Where’s Millie?!” I cover my eyes, get down real close to her nose, and she uses her nose to push my hands away from my face. She gets so excited every time, and so do I. I’m an only child, and so she’s the closest thing I’ve had to a sibling (my parents call her and all other pets we’ve had their “furry kids”) and I couldn’t be more distraught over the thought of losing her. I read your post about losing your dear kitty this past year, and I am so sorry for that loss that you have had to overcome. It sounds as though she had a wonderful life with you, and you with her. Much love to you, as I understand that it has been some time since she has passed, but the pain never goes away.

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