four years ago during the initial spread of covid, i impulsively drove one hour away from my uni apartment to rescue a cat i found on craigslist. she was supposedly two years old, very sweet but skittish, and front declawed. i was captivated by how cute she looked with her white and orange spotting and a little mustache. during the drive i hyped myself up about how i was going to commit if i made a connection with this cat. i told myself to prepare for a long life journey if i took this girl home.

i get to the house, and i see the terrified look in her eyes as i hear constant barking from a small dog. i’m talking to this lady and her granddaughter to get a history. according to the lady, she had this cat since she was a kitten. that she got her checked once a year by the vet. that she got her front declawed as to not ruin the furniture. they keep telling me she’s really sweet, but very scared because she’s terrified of this lady’s chihuahua who keeps antagonizing her. i tried to get closer to this cat and all she would do is hide to get away from the barking dog. i immediately knew it didn’t matter if i had a connection with her. what she needed was to be removed from this house. i was devastated seeing that she was under the care of a person who prioritized their furniture more and preferred their other animal more than this baby’s welfare for the past two years. i told the lady i would take her and everything this little girl had (food, litter box, carrier, and scratcher). i spent $100 to remove this cat from living another minute in neglect.

i got to my apartment and she of course hid under my roommate’s bed. it took hours of coaxing, but she finally felt somewhat safe enough to come out. she was still scared of course, but i knew that i just needed to give her time and space to get settled. little did i know, she had fleas. i immediately took her to the vet to get her treated. they also told me she has a little heart murmur, but that it’s faint and not too concerning. i was surprised but kept in mind that as long as i keep up with her health she should be okay. as time passed she would have more incidents of vomiting and pooping outside her litter box. i text her previous owner if she was aware of any of these health issues. all the lady said was that she was healthy the entire two years she had her. i didn’t believe her, but to me it didn’t matter. this little girl was my responsibility and i made a promise to take care of her.

fast forward to a few weeks later, i moved into my sister’s house and i took my girl with me. she was skittish, but curious. eventually she was gaining more confidence after she realized she had more space to roam. at this point she knew i was her cat guardian, but she wasn’t very affectionate with me. i thought that was fair and i was okay with just that as long as she’s happy. i got a new job as a registered nurse during the first covid outbreak. over time i hated my job and started to question my career choice. regardless i told myself to stick it out because the money i earn is for my cat to get a thorough exam for the digestive issues. she is of course very aggressive at the vet clinic because she doesn’t have claws to protect herself. the visits were getting more frequent as i feared something was wrong with her health. thousands of dollars later, she gets diagnosed with IBD and is prescribed prednisone and an allergy diet. i dedicated my time to upholding her treatment and she got better bit by bit.

then it hit me. i realized i didn’t want to keep my job where i was treated with so much disdain and disrespect along with refusal of proper guidance. i got extremely depressed and suicidal. every night i was on break at work, i would go to the top floor and look at how to get to the roof so i could jump and end the pain. joke’s on me, i couldn’t find a way. i always snapped back to reality that there was a living, breathing creature that depended on me. so i kept going. until i couldn’t. i immediately quit my job. i wanted to leave nursing altogether. i was scolded by my sister for being weak and irresponsible. all i could do was cry in my bed. i didn’t care that i had to get multiple jobs to make ends meet. i needed to step away because i couldn’t find any more reasons to keep living. i was a failure.

i was lying down sobbing in my bed with the windows shut, lights off, and door closed. out of nowhere i feel a sudden weight on my chest. it was my cat loafing on my chest and slow blinking at me. right then i knew this little girl finally trusted me and somehow found out i needed to be comforted. it dawned on me that this little creature deserved everything and more.

i tried to rebuild my life to make sure i can provide the best for my cat. it took time and she still had occasional flare-ups in her health, but every checkup resulted with nothing too concerning. i eventually returned to nursing for financial stability, but felt better because i no longer worked in a toxic environment.

fast forward to now. i’ve been depressed and suicidal again for the past year over my own health issues and career struggles. life hasn’t been easy but i still make do and take care of her because she needs it. thankfully with the proper help and resources, i am rebuilding my life again. things are finally better. but i’m wrong again.

yesterday i noticed my cat yowl and pant. i immediately knew something was very wrong. i saw her struggle to move her back legs, but she clearly lost use of them. i panicked and got ready as fast as i could to taker her to an emergency clinic. they assessed her and they told me her heart muscles were so thick and her legs were ice cold. they asked me if she’d ever been diagnosed with cardiac issues. then it hit me. her mild heart murmur progressed into advanced heart failure. they added that her condition made her prone to clots which meant one broke off and cut the circulation in her legs. i dreaded but still asked in a broken voice if what she had was fatal. the veterinarian told me that there were no clot busters for animals unlike for humans. the best bet was to pump fluids to hopefully displace the clot, but it would only drown and injure her body in attempts to reperfuse her organs. she would only suffer more pain. euthanasia was the only way.

i was so shocked, but i knew she needed to stop struggling. i signed consents and waited for the preparation. this little girl still was feisty and upset that she’s at the vet, trying to jump off the table even though she couldn’t use her back legs. the little time we had alone in this room they put us in, everything started to click. i realized i’d seen subtle symptoms and differences in her. i always thought to myself during those moments that i needed to get myself together first before i could get her checked. hindsight was twenty-twenty. it dawned on me that i failed her. i should have paid attention. i should have intervened. i was so focused on the shit i needed to fix on myself that i didn’t see what she was going through.

i rubbed her nose and apologized profusely to her for the pain she endured. she calmed down and nuzzled into me. then the veterinarian came. it was time. she pushed the medications. i held her in my arms. i asked how long it would take for them to take effect. she took a listen through her stethoscope and she told me she’s gone. the veterinarian gave us a moment of privacy. i picked up her frail, little body. i held her close and cradled her like a baby. then one last agonal breath escaped her body while she was in my arms.

in the back of my mind, i knew she wouldn’t live long because of her health. but i never imagined i would lose her this way so quickly. the guilt i feel is immense. i’m glad she’s not suffering anymore, but i’m stuck thinking that maybe she didn’t feel loved by me. that for so long she suffered alone and in pain until last night.

everyone keeps telling me that i did the best that i could. that despite what happened, they could tell she was well-taken care of. that this was unfortunate, but that it was clear i spoiled her so much. that nobody would dare give any creature a life as good as what she got from me.

the bond i had with her was so strong and full of love. i have yet to feel that from another human. but it didn’t matter. she was everything to me. she was the reason i kept living. i wanted to give her a better life. now all that’s left is the weird feeling that she’ll come around and meow to greet me. but she’s not here. she’s gone. i don’t believe there is life after death. but i want to believe there is a better place for her. rest in peace my sweet, little girl. mommy is so, so sorry.