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 didnāt have to be afraid, and that we loved her more than anything, and she willĀ always still be here, right in our hearts, forever.
Elvis’s head was on my shoulder when she died. I hope she didnāt 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 couldā¦ 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.
Itās 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 wasĀ so excited that you were going to pet her…Ā 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, soĀ 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.
Iāve been camped out in my tent of sadness… it was really unmanageable at firstā the tent kept collapsing and trying to suffocate me.
But I think now Iāve got it packed into something more wheelbarrow-sized, which is nice and convenient because it’s portable, so when youĀ 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 18, 2016 @ 6:39 am
I lost my girl (cat) 5 years ago, my boy( dog) 4 years ago and my Grandson 5 years old just this year. There have been many others, human and animal. These have hit me the hardest. You never get over loss, you just deal with it. I love the Rainbow Bridge poem, you should read it. What is important in life is not to have regrets. Spend all the time you can spare loving and being with pets and humans in your life. I cry when I think about my lost loved ones but I smile also!!! Fostering and rescuing are great things. Keep up the good work!
August 18, 2016 @ 10:11 am
Victoria, My sister (Lisa Jelleme-Miller) told me about your blog this year. You are amazing. An unbelievable writer & decorator, and just an overall good soul. I just read your blog about fostering Berla (whom I would adopt in a second!) and the black and white kittens (OMG, I love them, and their purrs. I even had my 6 year old daughter and her friend come in to see the video of their cuteness.) and then I read your blog about losing Elvis. Words can’t tell you how sorry I am and truly, I know how you feel and what you went through. that burden we bear of having to make that difficult (like the hardest) decision of saying goodbye to our beloved pets. I wanted to share this with you during this time of losing Elvis. It was written by a wonderful lady who lives in Maine. May you find peace in all your wonderful memories. And keep up your amazing work.
THE JOURNEY
by Crystal Ward Kent
Copyright 1998 ā All Rights Reserved
When you bring a pet into your life, you begin a journey ā a journey that will bring you more love and devotion than you have ever known, yet also test your strength and courage.
If you allow, the journey will teach you many things, about life, about yourself, and most of all, about love. You will come away changed forever, for one soul cannot touch another without leaving its mark.
Along the way, you will learn much about savoring lifeās simple pleasures ā jumping in leaves, snoozing in the sun, the joy of puddles, and even the satisfaction of a good scratch behind the ears.
If you spend much time outside, you will be taught how to truly experience every element, for no rock, leaf or log will go unexamined, no rustling bush will be overlooked, and even the very air will be inhaled, pondered, and noted as being full of valuable information. Your pace may be slower ā except when heading home to the food dish ā but you will become a better naturalist, having been taught by an expert in the field.
Too many times we hike on automatic pilot, our goal being to complete the trail rather than enjoy the journey. We miss the details ā the colorful mushrooms on the rotting log, the honeycomb in the old maple snag, the hawk feather caught on a twig. Once we walk as a dog does, we discover a whole new world. We stop; we browse the landscape; we kick over leaves, peek in tree holes, look up, down, all around. And we learn what any dog knows: that nature has created a marvelously complex world that is full of surprises, that each cycle of the seasons brings ever-changing wonders, each day an essence all its own.
Even from indoors you will find yourself more attuned to the world around you. You will find yourself watching summer insects collecting on a screen (How bizarre they are! How many kinds there are!), or noting the flicker and flash of fireflies through the dark. You will stop to observe the swirling dance of windblown leaves, or sniff the air after a rain. It does not matter that there is no objective in this; the point is in the doing, in not letting lifeās most important details slip by.
You will find yourself doing silly things that your pet-less friends might not understand: spending thirty minutes in the grocery aisle looking for the cat food brand your feline must have, buying dog birthday treats, or driving around the block an extra time because your pet enjoys the ride. You will roll in the snow, wrestle with chewie toys, bounce little rubber balls till your eyes cross, and even run around the house trailing your bathrobe tie ā with a cat in hot pursuit ā all in the name of love.
Your house will become muddier and hairier. You will wear less dark clothing and buy more lint rollers. You may find dog biscuits in your pocket or purse, and feel the need to explain that an old plastic shopping bag adorns your living room rug because your cat loves the crinkly sound.
You will learn the true measure of love ā the steadfast, undying kind that says, āIt doesnāt matter where we are or what we do, or how life treats us as long as we are together.ā Respect this always. It is the most precious gift any living soul can give another. You will not find it often among the human race.
And you will learn humility. The look in my dogās eyes often made me feel ashamed. Such joy and love at my presence. She saw not some flawed human who could be cross and stubborn, moody or rude, but only her wonderful companion. Or maybe she saw those things and dismissed them as mere human foibles, not worth considering, and so chose to love me anyway.
If you pay attention and learn well, when the journey is done, you will not be just a better person, but the person your pet always knew you to be ā the one they were proud to call beloved friend.
I must caution you that this journey is not without pain. Like all paths of true love, the pain is part of loving. For as surely as the sun sets, one day your dear animal companion will follow a path you cannot yet go down. And you will have to find the strength and love to let them go. A petās time on earth is far too short ā especially for those that love them. We borrow them, really, just for awhile, and during those brief years they are generous enough to give us all of their love ā every inch of their spirit and heart, until one day there is nothing left.
The cat that only yesterday was a kitten is all too soon old and frail and sleeping in the sun. The young pup of boundless energy wakes up stiff and lame, the muzzle now gray. Deep down we somehow always knew this journey would end. We knew that if we gave our hearts they would be broken. But give them we must for it is all they ask in return. When the time comes, and the road curves ahead to a place we cannot see, we give one final gift and let them run on ahead ā young and whole once more.
āGodspeed, good friend,ā we say, until our journey comes full circle and our paths cross again.
August 19, 2016 @ 7:46 am
Oh my! She had a little heart on her face! Loved the video…it was very touching. Sorry for your loss. <3
August 19, 2016 @ 1:09 pm
I read this and broke down. I know too well that love and sadness, and I cry in part because I know that I will go through it again and again before my time here is done. It’s not right that these animals that we love so much live such short lives compared to ours. Maybe that’s what makes us spoil and love them so completely and with such silliness. I’m crying in my cereal bowl….I give a big hug to you and your husband, and commend the bravery you had to stay with her until the very last moment. I’m sure it meant everything to her…..and you.
August 19, 2016 @ 8:51 pm
My chest hurts for a cat I never met. I am so sorry for your loss.
August 20, 2016 @ 11:53 pm
I’m so sorry Victoria. I can only imagine your heartache. I think forward to the day when my darling Chloe will leave me and I can’t even bear the thought of it. My thoughts and heart are with you.
August 22, 2016 @ 10:38 pm
I was browsing your blog, and this post struck such a chord.
I’m so very sorry for your loss.
My husband and I have been through this so many times in recent years. We’ve loved all of our cats, but that strong of a bond isn’t always a part of the deal.
My first cat was a part of my life for her entire life of 17 years. When she left us, she left a very large hole in my heart, and my life. I cried for days, weeks, months. Very few people understood.
She was one of those, ‘once in a lifetime’ animals for me. I even wrote Cleveland Amory a letter about her, since I had recently read his book, The Best Cat Ever. It was a difficult read for me. My own pain was too fresh to read about someone else’s. But read it I did, and it helped me, in some small way. To know that I wasn’t alone, although it seems a minor thing, it wasn’t.
To my astonishment, I actually received a letter back from him some time later. I still have it.
I will tell you, that had there not been two other cats in our home at the time, I wouldn’t have had another. I couldn’t even bear to think about it. Especially another black cat, which is what Bill was.
Several years down the road a kitten came into our lives. He left us a couple of years ago, seventeen years as well.
We go on. I now have another black cat, and he’s a special one too. He came at just the right time.
I think it’s wonderful that you’re fostering. š
August 23, 2016 @ 3:46 pm
First off, I am so sorry for your loss. I know from personal experience that no words can help with the pain.
In my opinion, and possibly only in my opinion, the loss of a much beloved pet is so much more difficult than anyone can ever describe. You cannot make sure they have everything they might want before they pass – you can guess and assume, but they cannot communicate with you. You can express your affection and love for them, but there is a big part of you that wants and needs to tell them in words…
Just know that many of us do understand. We cannot make it better, but we are here for you. (wherever our respective “here”s are…)
August 23, 2016 @ 4:27 pm
I’m so sorry about the loss of your beloved Elvis. She was a beautiful cat! When I lost my Snap in March, I made a little shrine with his picture and photos. I also collected his whiskers and a little fur! My belief is that Elvis is still there with you, just in a different form. And you should also know that the only thing Elvis felt that last day was your love for her. (((HUGS)))
September 1, 2016 @ 3:36 pm
My heart breaks for sweet Elvis and you and your husband. I cry every time I read where a bloggers precious pet has died.
I didn’t think I could live when my little sweet pug died from cancer.
I have now adopted a stray cat and I love him now and he loves me
I just wanted you to know I feel for you all.
September 6, 2016 @ 9:28 am
I am so sorry for the loss of your beautiful Elvis. She was very loved and I am quite sure that she knew it. I could not agree with you more about the debilitating pain of the loss of a pet. My almost 15 year old Munchen died last August and I could not function for days the pain was so bad.
My thought are with you at this difficult time. I hope the fosters offer you a bit of comfort.
September 8, 2016 @ 11:06 pm
I felt your pain as I watched Elvis’s tribute. The loss of a pet is never easy—have lost a few and each time I say “I will never have another one”—God always laughs and I eat my words. Another lab (shelter adopted) and Akita mix (hit by a car and left to die). I love them dearly and you will love again too—not like Elvis but that’s the beauty of an animal!! Much love to you both!!
September 9, 2016 @ 1:22 am
I’m so so sorry for your loss ? but glad that you all loved each other so much. I’m a cat person, I can’t even contemplate life without my girl. The video was great, so sweet that you captured her true spirit.
September 14, 2016 @ 12:18 pm
I am behind in my blog reading and just now saw this post. I have no words other than I am so, so sorry your girl is gone. She was a beautiful, loved kitty, and a very lucky girl to have you.
September 15, 2016 @ 7:53 pm
I helped my Izzy cross the bridge yesterday morning. She was ill for a week with catastrophic liver failure, so it was her time. She caught flies and tortured her ‘brother’ Charlie for 15 years, and you would never have known she wasn’t still 1 year old. Thank you for sharing Elvis with us. I hope Izzy and Elvis are chasing sunbeams and butterflies together someplace better, knowing we loved them and they are branded on our hearts forever.
September 16, 2016 @ 1:22 pm
I’m so very sorry for your loss, Victoria (and Paul too). I hope you’re doing ok with your wheelbarrow of grief.
September 17, 2016 @ 8:55 pm
I have had the privilege of being mommy to Callie 1Ā·17, callie 2Ā·19, velvet Ā·15, amberĀ· 15, banditĀ· 15, and many others. Right now we have Josie, anna, Edward and angel. All are rescues, fixed, fat and happy. When each one passes they take a part of our heart with them. I know yourr feelings but at some point you will welcome another into your heart.
September 24, 2016 @ 12:23 pm
I am so sorry for your loss. You’re so very right. This *is* a deplorable system. I am so glad Elvis had you and that you had Elvis. I firmly believe that cats and dogs are some of the best gifts from God! I loved your description of grief being a collapsing tent suffocating you. So true. I pray that God brings you comfort in the coming days, and that when you’re ready, another furry angel comes along.
September 24, 2016 @ 3:24 pm
I am so sorry. It has been a year since our last fur baby left us. He was 13. It gets easier, but it still aches. My kiddos changed the landscape of my heart forever and left three kitty shaped holes in my soul when they departed.
October 18, 2016 @ 11:53 am
I’m so sorry for your loss