Elvis has left the building.
We put Elvis to sleep last Tuesday.
It was time.
She had not been eating well and she just wound down and down… Even after Paul had a very serious conversation where he explained to her: earth is for eaters; if you don’t eat, you can’t stay… nonconformists will not be tolerated.
The hospice vet came to the house in the morning. We held her on our bed, on her favorite blanket. We told her that she didn’t have to be afraid, and that we loved her more than anything, and she will always still be here, right in our hearts, forever.
Elvis’s head was on my shoulder when she died. I hope she didn’t know what was happening.
An hour later we took her to be cremated.
We took her all the way to the machine because my heart hurt to think of her being alone, or with strangers; and I wanted to be with her as far as I could… I don’t think she knows any of that. But it mattered a lot to me.
Then we waited for her ashes and took her back home.
She’s got a little shrine right now, with lots of flowers from the garden, and her fuzzy ball, and the small dish of whiskers she shed/I found over the last 12 years.
It’s on the spot on the rug where she would RUN, as soon as you walked in the door; she would start doing her aerobics because she was so excited that you were going to pet her… At night she comes upstairs to the bedside table.
When I’m ready she’ll get moved to the Elvis Memorial Library. (Previously known as Cleveland bookcase)
For twelve years, Elvis was basically half of myself, so I expected to be sad. Really sad. Debilitatingly sad. But I didn’t understand the actual FRANTIC physical sensation of missing her. Wanting to pick her up and feel her fur and talk to her and hear her purry chirp.
And I would like to say officially: THIS IS A HORRIBLE SYSTEM.
How has humanity not just curled up and died from incurable loss?
I literally do not comprehend how people survive when it is human family.
I’ve been camped out in my tent of sadness… it was really unmanageable at first— the tent kept collapsing and trying to suffocate me.
But I think now I’ve got it packed into something more wheelbarrow-sized, which is nice and convenient because it’s portable, so when you have a breakdown outside your house, you have all the supplies.
Making this video was helpful, but also so sad… I can’t believe she’s really gone.
*If you can’t watch the video, try reloading the page, or being sure that you aren’t inside of the Facebook app… it seems to break the video.
I miss everything about her. Our conversations. Her smell. Her chirp. Her smoochy face. Her white feeties. Her wompy ear.
But I know she had a wonderful life and THE MOST LOVE, and that’s really the best that any of us can hope for in this life.
August 10, 2016 @ 3:43 am
There are really no magic words at this time that will keep the heartache at bay. But I always rely on a quote from Queen Elizabeth II to remind me that some prices in the world are worth the payment.
“Grief is the price we pay for love” Queen Elizabeth II.
August 10, 2016 @ 4:18 am
Very sorry for your loss. Been there too. It may sound weird, but you can send off some of the ashes to be made into beads, very pretty glass orbs. Make those into jewelry. Have them close always.
August 10, 2016 @ 6:47 am
Sending prayers. The loss of a beloved pet is so difficult.
August 10, 2016 @ 7:52 am
What a beautiful tribute to your special Elvis. I was weeping, remembering the “tent” of grief, your description of this is spot on. We are so lucky, you and I. We love so deeply and have the rare privilege of sharing our heart with another being, and the price we pay for that blessing is the almost unbearable sadness when part of our heart is gone. It will ease, I promise. But it will never be completely gone, but isn’t that as it should be?
August 10, 2016 @ 8:16 am
Elvis was blessed to be so loved by her wacky, wonderful, and amazing pet parents. If only every animal on this planet could know such profound and unconditional love.
August 10, 2016 @ 9:29 am
I’m so sorry about Elvis. You gave her the gift of death with dignity. The loss of a pet is as traumatic or more than the loss of some family members. I lost my mom and my fog within months. It almost broke me. So at 48 years old I got a tattoo and it started the healing process as nothing else had worked. Let yourself grieve – there is no timeline. Sending a warm hug your way.
August 10, 2016 @ 9:53 am
I am so very sorry for your loss. We have added you to our morning prayers and our thoughts and love are with you.
August 10, 2016 @ 10:21 am
I’m so sorry to hear about Elvis! I have two cats myself and I’d be heartbroken if anything happened to them. Hang in there, it does get better <3
August 10, 2016 @ 10:50 am
I’m so sorry! Know that all your readers are grieving with you.
August 10, 2016 @ 11:10 am
It made me cry……sorry you lost her. You are brave.
August 10, 2016 @ 11:18 am
Darling, I’m so sorry. I’ve never commented on your posts before but your heartbreak is palpable.
Elvis was gorgeous and a fluff like no other. I hope you never forget her smell & her chirps, that you carry her with you. xxxx
August 10, 2016 @ 11:23 am
Victoria:
I am so sorry for your loss. I will keep you and Paul in my prayers.
August 10, 2016 @ 11:26 am
Oh, to love and be so loved. Thank you for sharing this incredible relationship. May it’s magic stay in your hearts always.
August 10, 2016 @ 11:28 am
Someone once told me that every pet is a tragedy. While we love all our pets, some are just extra special. I’m still mourning the loss of my Treasure (siamese cat) 7 years ago. If you can have an animal soul-mate, he was mine. Hugs to you and Paul, Victoria.
August 10, 2016 @ 12:34 pm
As soon as I saw the title of this blog entry, I didn’t want to read it. My eyes teared up instantly. But, I knew I would have to eventually read it. So, I did. I’m glad I did. Thank you for sharing such a personal process of loss with us. RIP Elvis.
This was especially difficult for me, as I lost my sister in April. On my birthday. Yes, the human loss is debilitating, too. I still don’t know how I will live without her. The tent analogy was good. I do feel like I am being smothered under a pile of soul sucking cloth…. and that’s on the good days. However, from past experiences (too many of them), I know that this too shall pass. There will always be a hole in your heart, but, on good days, sometimes, even if just for a second, the hole feels like it is filled with daisies and butterflies.
I can never replace my sister, but after you’ve had ample time to grieve, find Elvis’ reincarnation. You have so much love to give, and she’ll be happy, too. Hugs and paw taps.
August 10, 2016 @ 12:52 pm
I’m so sorry for your loss! We just put down our 2nd kitty this Spring, 3 months into her 19th year. Our first kitty had kidney disease and we had to put him down in his 13th year (after 6 months of daily at-home subQ water injections). After the pain of putting down our first kitty, I told my husband that after our 2nd cat passed, I didn’t think I’d want to get another pet because I never wanted to feel that pain of loss ever again. It truly felt like the worst thing I had ever experienced.
Now, a few months after the loss of our 2nd kitty, we did get a new kitten and it’s been strange, but great…and healing. After a while in the house without them, I came to realize that the extreme joy and love we shared in our years together was totally worth the pain of their loss. I couldn’t bear to not open my home and heart to another furry friend again…to miss out on that love that we shared would’ve been tragic. The toughest for me was thinking I saw them out of the corner of my eye…or looking for them/expecting to appear.
Elvis was lucky to have you in her life and it looks like you shared fantastic times together. I almost found it hard to go through the transition from grief to acceptance because I didn’t want to let go of them, forget about them or lose the memories of their feel, sounds and smells. I hope you’re not in the sorrow stage too long before you come to the fond, pain-free remembrance stage of your time together. You’ll never forget how great she was, she’ll stay in your heart. And you are in the hearts of pet owners everywhere.
This quote is about dogs, but when I found it, it pretty much summed-up my thoughts and feelings around my pets in general. Just thought I should share:
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Cd0GwgyWIAAt5yG.jpg
August 10, 2016 @ 12:57 pm
I know its a sad situation and a huge loss for you because having left her body, you can’t see her anymore. But believe me, in a higher dimension, which is not far, she is now healthy, happy and well and if you talk to her she will hear you. Ask for a dream with her and that you may remember it when you wake up. Love, the real kind, like the one existing between you two, UNITES. Cherish that love and be happy that there is no more sickness, no pain, no body which will give up on her now. She is very near you, right now. Send her Love and happy thoughts she will receive it and invite her to live in your heart.
Love, Angela
August 10, 2016 @ 1:56 pm
Oh Victoria, I’m just gutted at this news of Elvis. My cat, Maude, was diagnosed with cancer last summer, so I am bracing for the time when I have to let her go. I already know I’ll be a complete wreck. Your video was at once heart warming and heart wrenching. I love her expressive face with the little black smudge on her left snoozlechop (my invented word for “whisker pad”)! You gave her so much love, and she was obviously the happiest of cats. Sending you hugs from me and purrs from Miss Maudie.
August 10, 2016 @ 1:59 pm
Your video is a beautiful tribute to Elvis. You’re right, she had more than most, and all any of us could dream for. You did good.
August 10, 2016 @ 3:05 pm
I have never commented on your blog, but had to post for the first time with this one.
It is heartbreaking when an animal dies that you have loved so well. I know exactly what you mean about missing her presence and hearing her chirps. How can a house feel SO empty???
Take comfort in the fact that Elvis had a GREAT life and you got to share that together.
((((hugs))))