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 9, 2016 @ 10:53 am
Elizabeth, I am so sorry for your loss and I do understand all too well. Christmas Eve of 2014 we said goodbye to our beloved Winston J. who was 12 years old. I had expected much more time with him but his struggle the last few months was finally at the point that it was cruel to ask him to stay. We used a veterinary service that specializes in the saying the final “Goodbye” at home in his special place. He was in my arms with my husband scratching his head, something he had always adored. I was devastated. We actually had to attend the family Christmas party at my husband’s daughter’s house that evening. I ask Larry not to tell anyone because I knew if Winston’s name was mentioned I would fly into pieces. I think I was in a sort of daze for weeks, like you, not wanting to believe it just knowing he would wake my the next morning by slamming the blinds against the window like he always did when he was ready for breakfast and hadn’t paid attention to his first attempts to get me up. He had been my loving support through some very rough and painful times and we had a special bond. He knew when a day was especially bad and would stay beside me on those days. I still cry at times when certain memories pop up but Larry and I also laugh now when remembering some of his antics and some of his habits that made him our Winston J. But for now, I know even your good memories hurt and that’s okay. Losing our companions hurts as much as any other loss and you should grieve in whatever way is right for you and in your own time frame. You will be in my thoughts and remember, Elvis is just waiting on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge for you.
August 9, 2016 @ 10:54 am
I’m so sorry for your loss. We never have them with us long enough.
Animals go to heaven
Psalms 36:6
August 9, 2016 @ 10:54 am
What a lovely tribute to Elvis. She sounds like she was a very special kitty. I lost my guy 1.5 years ago and it still hurts so hard. Hang in there.
August 9, 2016 @ 10:54 am
Your loss touches me. I once had someone tell me, when you love deeply, you grieve deeply. The price of being human I guess. That we humans can have this love connection with animals is a very amazing thing when you think about it. Elvis surely had the BEST life and in that you can take comfort. God bless you.
August 9, 2016 @ 10:55 am
So sad for you … but glad for you and your Elvis that you had such wonderful time together … sending you a smoochy, wompy hug …
August 9, 2016 @ 10:58 am
My heart hurts for you. Our pets become a member of our family. We have gone through loosing quite a few. Maybe when ready you can get another silly little creature to help fill the void. : )
August 9, 2016 @ 10:58 am
So very sorry for your families loss. It is truly one of the hardest things! on Sept 14 it will be one year ago that we had to say good bye to our Maxie after 13 loving years as our side kick. We adopted him a year after we adopted his big sister Sophie. He was a scardy cat for the first half of his life. He would dart and hide when anybody from outside of the family would come in the house. As the years went on he mellowed way out and would say hi and “talk” to just about anybody who would listen. He loved his sister and he loved to assist me with blogging. It was so very hard to tell our boys who had never known life without our Max that he had gone to heaven. We were comforted by his big sister Sophie who under normal circumstances was a quiet old girl. She did what she wanted when she wanted. She was the mama kitty and help take care of our boys when they were babies. She always made sure they were ok and would even groom their heads. She was the sweetest! We adopted her one week after my husband and I got married and moved half way across the country leaving our friends and family behind. After Max passed I cherished my time with her dearly. She would come and sit and snuggle with me. She came out more often than not. I was sad to think that maybe she as wondering where her brother was that she had had by her side for 13 years. When we said good bye to our Max it was just my husband and I. Our boys were at school. It was heart wrenching to tell them when they got home from school that Maxie was no longer with us. This past March we were blessed as a family to be there by our Sophie’s side when it was time to say good bye. As a family we hugged on her and kissed her and I held her as she took her last breathes. I regret that that was something I was not brave enough to do with our Maxie. I apologize to him everyday for that. He deserved that. Sophie would have been 15 just a month later. We had both our kitties cremated and they now sit side by side along with their paw prints. One day we will barry them together in a sunny spot with lot of flowers. They both were indoor only kitties but I would let them venture out back on the patio to sun and walk in the grass from time to time. They loved that. Again so sorry for your loss! It truly is one of the hardest things in life. It hurts just as much as loosing a family member.
August 9, 2016 @ 10:58 am
I am so, so sad for you and Paul, and Elvis. I KNOW she was there and IS there for you with every step and breath you take.
August 9, 2016 @ 11:00 am
Sending you a hug. I held my Miss Alexandra as she died, too. I couldn’t leave the house and cried for days. Truth? Still do sometimes and it’s been two years. Time passing does dull the sharpness of the hurt so there’s a cliche that’s true but I still miss my tiny appendage. Like you with Elvis, I miss Ali’s feel, her smell, her antics, her love. My solace is KNOWING Ali’ll be mine when I move to heaven. I am convinced if something matters to us, it matters to God. Bet you’ll have a fabulous house filled with GFT and Elvis will be there, too.
Thanks for sharing Elvis with us. Really, thanks for sharing YOU. I always look forward to your posts.
‘nother hug.
August 9, 2016 @ 11:00 am
A loss is a loss be in human or pet. So sorry you are sad, but Elvis is in a better place and will run to you again. Sorry for your loss .
Susan
August 9, 2016 @ 11:00 am
So painful to read. We all knew it was coming but you did justice in expressing the inevitable raw pain when it finally did. I wish you comfort in this difficult time. A friend recently lost a very special pet (yes, all are special but she wrote and published a children’s book about this one who became a bit of a local celebrity). My friend had some ashes put inside a beautiful glass bead that was made into a piece of jewelry so she could always have her pet with her. She used a local Vermont artist – the Golden Bead. Sharing as an optional way to pay tribute to this wonderful friend. Best to you and Paul –
August 9, 2016 @ 11:01 am
Victoria,
I’ve been dreading this email for months now. My Tina kept purring until her heart literally stopped beating. I was in the same condition as you, that was 12 years ago and if I close my eyes I can still sense her goodness. She may in fact be the cause of small footsteps that seem to cross my feet when I’m in bed at night. Tina and Elvis are both now part of the perfect Goodness that surrounds us all the time. I try to live focused on the good so that whenever a pet or family member or friend get nearby I’ll sense them. I know Elvis will always be loved and never forgotten. The video is beautifully done. Hugs to you both who have been such loving parents to Elvis. Liz
August 9, 2016 @ 11:01 am
I’m so very sorry for your loss..she was clearly a very special cat and most definitely a part of your family. You are so right, she had everything we can really hope for in life…will be keeping you in my prayers.
August 9, 2016 @ 11:01 am
I feel your pain. I had one who lived to 19. She was a sister to my kids who grew up with her. She never realized she was a cat. The sadness eases after a while and life will go on but snippets of memories will come to you at unexpected moments. Particularly during cat food commercials. Be prepared. So sorry for your loss.
August 9, 2016 @ 11:03 am
“How has humanity not just curled up and died from incurable loss?”
This. I am so sorry. I could not have put my feelings into words any more beautifully than you did. I’ve lost two cats in the last 6 years, one that I got after I was very sick and almost died, who I credit to giving me hope and saving me. I only had him for 10 months before he was taken from me. I still can’t really look at pictures of him. Pets are just a heartbreak waiting to happen. xo
August 9, 2016 @ 11:04 am
There are no words that will take away the hurt, but I hope you feel the invisible hugs we are all sending you and your husband. You did the right thing, and one day, you will only feel a tiny bit of pain with mostly good thoughts and memories. Pets are family and loss is loss. I am typing through my tears right now, remembering all my lost loves, human and animal both. Take care of yourselves and just keep going…..all you can do at this point but it WILL get easier and better. I promise!
August 9, 2016 @ 11:05 am
I understand. I sobbed out loud while watching your video. I am still teary as I write this. We put our Stella gently to sleep over two years ago. We never knew we were cat people, until our daughter brought home a stray cat who had wandered on to a friend’s college campus. I loved her dearly. She changed my world. I became a vegetarian because she spoke to my soul.
I promise it will get easier. At least until someone reminds you of their loss, and you relate deeply.
August 9, 2016 @ 11:05 am
Victoria and Paul, I’m so sorry about your profound loss. I know it is palpable. Victoria, it must have been so hard to write this blog, but probably so cathartic. And you should know that it is comforting to us cat lovers who didn’t quite know how to put our grief into words. You are so correct about the frantic feeling of physical loss.
There will never be another Elvis with her darling heart-shaped freckle, but it is my prayer that, when the time is right, you find another smoochy-faced, sweet baby to fill the cat-shaped hole in your heart.
August 9, 2016 @ 11:06 am
I am so sorry for your loss! If one is truly a pet lover, this stage is inevitable, but never any easier. You have described the feelings perfectly. Elvis knew you loved her, and that’s the best ever. Peace to you.
August 9, 2016 @ 11:07 am
Victoria, I am so sorry. The pain of loosing a beloved pet is unspeakable. Praying that you are surrounded by comfort. Debi