She Was There – Goodbye My Little Friend

Today, I lost my little friend.

I often see the phrase ‘I have no words‘ written after the death of someone important. I have plenty of words. Hundreds.


My Little Friend

From that very first day when she pushed against my hand at the RSPCA centre she has been a huge support in my life, the only constant that has been with me for thirteen years. She’s seen me through my graduation, she sat on my lap when I typed up applications for job interviews and she celebrated with me when I got them, she was there when I began new relationships, she was there when they ended, she was there during the highest and lowest points of my life. She has moved house with me six times, taking every move in her little stride. We’ve seen in countless New Years, birthdays and Christmas’s together. She would chase me around the house with her stuffed toys, her eyes growing wider just before she was about to pounce. She was there when my family broke apart.

She was there.

When others have judged me, insulted me, put me down and dismissed me, she has been the one thing that has never failed to greet me after a bad day and show me unconditional love. Every night, as I got into bed, she would lay on me and give me a kiss goodnight before retiring to her own little bed in the corner of my room. If I cried, she would jump up and push her head against mine. She was always an independent soul and made it perfectly clear when she wanted to be left alone (I have the scars to prove it) and right to the very end her feisty nature and her hatred of the other cats never waned. She was funny, she had a quirky little personality and could never quite establish a normal miaow, instead creating something that resembled more of a squeak. Her presence allowed me the confidence to feel safe on my own in the house at night. She was my little safety net in times of darkness, and made the happy times seem so much brighter.

Some may role their eyes and proclaim that she was ‘just a cat.’ To me, she wasn’t just a cat, she was my company, my confidante, my family and at times she was my only friend.

She was there. She was mine.

I was with her in her last moments. At the age of nineteen I know that she had a good life, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I did everything I could for her and I know that she was happy and loved, but I wish that I could turn back the clock and live it all over again with her. I want to bring her home and protect her. I want to feed her, play with her, cuddle up with her, talk to her.

What I don’t know is how I am possibly going to do the rest without her.

Goodbye, my little friend. I’ll miss you forever.

You can also find me on Twitter and Tumblr @suzie81blog


Thank you so much for all the comments of support that I have received since publishing this post… Your messages have made me smile, made me cry and are helping me to come to terms with things. 

106 thoughts on “She Was There – Goodbye My Little Friend

  1. I’m gutted for you, Suzie, and don’t know what else to say apart from that. Nineteen years is a long time, and we have an almost perfect relationship with our pets that we actually don’t have with people, which makes it even harder. Virtual hugs!

  2. I am so incredibly sorry for the loss of your family member. That’s what she was, a part of your family and your heart. Sending you courage and bloggy hugs.

  3. That was an awesome companion. Take heart, dear. She has played her role, open up your arms and heart for another. Maybe someone or something better. Brighten up!

  4. I am belated in my sympathy and regards to you about your special kitty, who always was there for you. I am sorry about your loss. I had a dog once who was so sweet, curled up by me, licked my face when I cried and was a great friend to me. I left him and my ex-husband. I visited a little but ended up, letting go. I could not visit my ex so I gave Toby up. I feel embarrassed but when he died last year, I said a prayer that he understood, that he can see me again in Doggy Heaven. Love and hugs, Robin

  5. I am so sorry to hear this. I know from my own experience with pets just how important they are. I hope that you will start feeling better soon, though I know it’s hard

  6. I feel for you – nineteen years is a long relationship. She had the best life ever with you and will always have a place in your heart. ((Hugs))

  7. I absolutely adore my cat for many, if not all, the reasons you stated above. She is my little furry soul mate.

    I’m so sorry for your loss. 😦 Sending hugs your way… ❤

  8. Heart wishes and bright thoughts. Animals love with such innocence and with no expectations other than that you just exist – loving them teaches us to love wholy and without judgement. Blessed Be your life for her presence and though darker for her loss it is still brighter than it would have been without her in it.

  9. I’m sorry to hear that Suzie. I’m sure she will be having a great time at rainbow bridge with all the other amazing cats that have left us.

  10. Animals are our family and I know how I felt when I thought for a second that my cat is lost forever. I don’t even want to bring back that emotion in memory, she is so dear to me. I love that small fur ball very much and I hope she will have many years of annoying me and begging for snacks… 🙂
    I am so sorry for your cat, try and get a new one if you want to, there are tons of fur balls waiting for us to give them attention. ❤

  11. It is always hard to lose a beloved friend. Especially our four legged friends. So sorry for your loss. I have been there done that. And I will have to do it again one day. It never gets any easier. You will think of her and remember the good times. You will cry and move on. And you will remember some more and laugh of the funny things she did.

  12. Aww. Smudge sends late condolences. He says you’re a saint for taking in a rescue kitty, and he didn’t think anyone would ever love him, either. He also said that he’s so happy to have found me which makes me his saint. And one more thing–thank you for letting your little friend know how much you loved him and how he helped you make it through some hard times.
    Kind regards,
    Smudge (transcribed by Elouise)

  13. Smudge sends deep apologies for getting something very wrong in his recent comment. Your little friend was a she, not a he. He hopes she’s not offended.

  14. It doesn’t seem to get easier, does it? I feel the exact same way about my partner-in-crime that I lost last January (to this day, I can barely re-read what I wrote about it because it shatters my soul.). She was my everything. I am 100% with you on the fact that it’s not “just a cat”. We give and receive so much love from them. They are our family in all the best ways possible.

      • I feel the same way. She taught me how to be a mother and how to always give more, even when I thought I had nothing left to give. I miss her terribly. I look at my newest little one and often say “You’re not her.” It’s sad, but it’s true. Each cat is so different.

      • I have two others that I’ve had for seven years. One is diabetic and needs insulin injections twice daily. They’re adorable, they love me and they’re funny little characters, but they aren’t her. I always feel guilty when I admit that. I spoil them just as much, I love them and I do my best t make sure that they are happy, healthy and safe, but they aren’t her…

      • Every cat is different. I know she was a piece of me, and it was evident. I don’t feel guilty looking at my current little girl and admitting she’s not her. It’s the truth. She’s also too young right now to understand all that I go through.

        My family cat has diabetes too. It’s difficult managing it, he was rescued off the street, someone really neglected him terribly, but he is doing all right with regular vet visits and twice daily injections. A lot of people put their cats to sleep the second they hear the word diabetes, they don’t realize that it can be managed. Of course, some cats don’t make it easy, He knows he is receiving care, so he begrudging accepts it.

        I have the same mind set, they all get the same love, safety, care, and concern, but no one will ever be her. It’s emotionally draining whenever I think about it. It pains me.

      • I found out last September that she was diabetic, and there was never a question of her being out down, but after losing all my savings because of it I can sort of understand why people do, even though I don’t agree with it – if you take on a pet you’re supposed to take them on for life. Luckily, my cat doesn’t have any issues with blood curves or injections so it’s as easy as it can be, but the little friend I lost would have fought claw and paw if it was her…

      • I agree with you. I have seen some of the questions on adoption forms and it is then that you realize exactly how bad people treat their pets for them to be asking a potential adopter what they will be doing with the animal. Some of the questions sickened me, but I realize they have to ask.

        It’s hard medicating most cats. I’ve known many that refused injections, pills, etc. I had a cat that would seemingly take her pill, and 30 minutes later she’d spit it into my hair or into my face. I tried everything, and she wasn’t having it. I ended up using a compounding pharmacy to turn the medicine into a liquid, which worked in terms of dosing her, but when the medication stopped working I had to take her to a specialist for a really expensive procedure. It prolonged her life, and to me, that was more important than anything.

        I don’t think we EVER get over the ones that we are truly bonded to. It’s so different with animals. The unconditional love is unreal, and unless a person has lived it, they can never understand why we feel so deeply about it.

      • It’s something I will never understand – if humans want to hurt each other, we have a system in place where the perpetrators can be brought to justice. But to hurt something that cannot defend themselves, often for pleasure is beyond any reason for me. I don’t like watching the news anymore – any stories that I see stay with me and I feel utterly helpless.

        I’m quite lucky with my cat – she loves her food so much that she doesn’t really notice the injection – the needle is small and set up like an epipen so we can inject her really quickly. Giving her a tablet is a whole different issue though – I have to pin her down with a towel and shove it down her throat… I always feel so guilty!

  15. This post says something wonderful about you, Suzie, about your compassion and loyalty. You were lucky to have each other. Best to watch for the little flutters of the curtains, the soft sounds that whisper from the shadows. Still with you, she is.

  16. Aw, like I said before my old cat Max will be looking after her at Rainbow Bridge! I had no idea it was world cat day damnit. Only 20 mins left and I have had too many JDs to think about writing a sensible post…

  17. We had a Dalmation called Portia. She was a rescue dog and a more faithful and loving dog , you couldn’t have found. When either of us were ill she would sit by us giving us a little nudge with her nose to say ” I’m will be OK.” She even did the same to the children of the friends who looked after her while we were on holiday. She never cared how we lookedor what we had, but just gave us boundless love. The day she was put to sleep was one of the worst days even though it was the kindest thing to do. We left the vets , this tall, well built man and his dumpy wife , crying so much that we couldn’t drive home. They are not ‘just animals’ , they are true , loyal friends.

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  19. Hi Suzi!
    Such great things have happened for me since your blog party, because of your blog party. You referred me to Hugh. Hugh referred me to Sally Cronin. She has repeatedly reblogged my posts to thousands, and my readership has grown so much. She tweets my links on Twitter too.
    Thanks as well for your visit to my site today and for all you do for me to support my writing each week on Twitter. Thank you for being there!

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  21. I am so incredibly sorry about your fur person’s passing, Suzie. Being a huge animal lover myself, I can relate to your feelings of pain and sadness. I like to think these dear little souls are needed on the other side to provide companionship in that realm now. What they teach us is immeasurable, isn’t it? Energy is never gone; it merely transforms. Sending you huge hugs from across the pond, dear Suzie. ❤ ❤ xoxo

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