- Joined
- Aug 4, 2018
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My dearest friend Neil was hit by a car on Wednesday of this week. I signed up because I thought perhaps it would help me to tell our story, and to ask for help with how to process this.
Neil came into our lives 7 years ago. A big orange tabby with huge wide eyes. My dad had adopted him as a stray 4 years earlier, and when my dad passed away in 2011 we we felt compelled to take him and care for him as my dad did. He was around 7 or 8 years old at the time. I knew him fairly well through spending time with him at my dad's, and always found him charming but a bit naughty. It was not until a year into him entering our home as a member of our little family (myself and my husband) that we grew to truly fall in love with him.
A little about Neil. He was the perfect cat. Truly. He was independent and strong. He was quiet and stoic and steady and loving. He was funny. He loved being close and affectionate but was never needy or pushy. He slept at my side every night, head to head, nose to nose almost, for the last 7 years. My sister drew and painted his beautiful face on our christmas cards each year. He has been the steadiest friend I've ever known. Steadier than my family or my dog or my husband. So very very easy to love, so very very good.
Before my dad got him he was an outdoor cat. With my dad he was an indoor cat. After moving in with us we kept him in for the first 6 months, and he was a challenge. He would dash out at every opportunity. He would pee by the door. He woke us up crying and bopping our faces with his claw. We had him to the vet with these issues and he was healthy as a horse. They suggested a diffuser to help calm him, which I actually felt ramped him up. When we finally moved to a quieter street, after a couple of months we started to gradually let him out. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 30 minutes. We stayed with him and would bring him home for lots of treats and milk after short trips for so many weeks. Eventually we felt we could trust him on his own. He became a different cat. He became the cat I described. He truly seemed fulfilled. The neighbhours loved him. He would sit next to them while they had their morning coffee. We would find him sitting with neighbhourhood cats on our porch. People passing by took photos of him he was so relaxed and happy and beautiful in the sunshine. He seemed so savvy. Like he just knew. It was clear to us that this was the life he preferred. To be able to spend time outdoors, making friends, in the sunshine, for just short bits every day - then to return to us to cuddle and relax and give and receive love in our home. It was perfect. We adopted a dog 4 years ago and they became best friends. We had a beautiful, easy routine and it felt really good and right.
Three years ago we moved again to busier two way street (our previous street was one way). We kept him in for two months after we moved, with the intention not to let him out, worried about the road. He again became the miserable cat we brought in 4 years earlier. He peed by the door. He attacked our dog. He cried and put his claws in our faces (which had not happened since we first kept him in when we got him). We tried upping his exercise, play time, brought back the diffuser. He could not tolerate a collar so tying him up felt like it was not an option. We made a decision at that time to start to let him out in the back yard. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. Same routine as before. He responded immediately and his whole demeanour changed. He became himself. It's hard to describe but he seemed so content. Like everything was right. My husband and I talked at LENGTH about the risks. We said to each other, it is a risk he could be injured or killed, we know this, we accept this risk because being able to have the freedom to go outside truly seems to be important for his spirit and his well being. And for over 3 years he adopted the same routine - he would go about his business, visiting people, visiting cats, sleeping in the sunshine in our garden. He went out every morning for an hour and every afternoon for 3-4 hours and this was our routine.
This past Wednesday everything changed. He went out in the morning after breakfast as usual. Usually myself or my husband will let him in before we go, and we don't typically check with each other because he is always just waiting for whoever leaves first to let him in. From there he heads upstairs to the laundry basket where he spends the rest of the middle of the day, and then returns downstairs in the afternoon when we get home. Then we feed him and he goes back out until supper. When Neil wasn't asking to be let out when I got home I checked with my husband and found out that he hadn't let Neil in in the morning when he left. Our hearts dropped and we started going door to door. I learned from someone a few houses down on the opposite side of the street that they saw Neil get hit by a car that morning. They didn't know he was our cat (we didn't know these neighbhours, sadly) so they called animal control and Neil's body was picked up. It all happened within an hour - before we even left the house in the morning. They told me that Neil had visited them before. They told me that he stepped out in front of a car that was not travelling fast, just stepped right out in front of it. There was no time. And he died instantly.
We were shocked. We sobbed. I threw up. I cried all night between short bouts of sleep. We called Animal Control but couldn't retrieve his body until Thursday morning because the main office was closed. In the morning we called again and arranged to pick his body. We brought a box for them to put him in. Even though they had confirmed with his microchip, I had to make sure it was him. I looked in the box and found his precious body curled up in a perfect ball and his face badly damaged. It was at once the worst feeling imaginable and also strangely important, to see it was him and to say goodbye to him. We drove to a nearby town and had him privately cremated.
Now what? Everywhere I look he is there but isn't there. He would have been beside me right now as I type. And he isn't here. I imagine his poor sweet face so badly injured. The last three nights have been unbearably lonely. I cleaned up where he eats on the buffet in the dining room today. I threw up again. I can't stop crying. I can't focus. I'm not sleeping well, waking myself up in tears. I feel profoundly sad. I actually said to my husband that I feel worse about this, sadder, like I wish I could take it back more, than my own father's death. I grew up on a farm and we had outdoor cats who were taken by coyotes - I am no stranger to loss. This is so very different. I feel responsible. But then I remember his how much his quality of life improved by being allowed outside... which then makes me feel worse because I feel like I'm trying to justify this thing that went so horribly wrong.
My heart hurts so much. I wish there was some way I could see him again. To tell him goodbye and that I am so sorry. Please if anyone has experienced anything like this, how did you cope? I'm attaching a photo my sister drew of his sweet sleeping face. It looks exactly like him.
Neil came into our lives 7 years ago. A big orange tabby with huge wide eyes. My dad had adopted him as a stray 4 years earlier, and when my dad passed away in 2011 we we felt compelled to take him and care for him as my dad did. He was around 7 or 8 years old at the time. I knew him fairly well through spending time with him at my dad's, and always found him charming but a bit naughty. It was not until a year into him entering our home as a member of our little family (myself and my husband) that we grew to truly fall in love with him.
A little about Neil. He was the perfect cat. Truly. He was independent and strong. He was quiet and stoic and steady and loving. He was funny. He loved being close and affectionate but was never needy or pushy. He slept at my side every night, head to head, nose to nose almost, for the last 7 years. My sister drew and painted his beautiful face on our christmas cards each year. He has been the steadiest friend I've ever known. Steadier than my family or my dog or my husband. So very very easy to love, so very very good.
Before my dad got him he was an outdoor cat. With my dad he was an indoor cat. After moving in with us we kept him in for the first 6 months, and he was a challenge. He would dash out at every opportunity. He would pee by the door. He woke us up crying and bopping our faces with his claw. We had him to the vet with these issues and he was healthy as a horse. They suggested a diffuser to help calm him, which I actually felt ramped him up. When we finally moved to a quieter street, after a couple of months we started to gradually let him out. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 30 minutes. We stayed with him and would bring him home for lots of treats and milk after short trips for so many weeks. Eventually we felt we could trust him on his own. He became a different cat. He became the cat I described. He truly seemed fulfilled. The neighbhours loved him. He would sit next to them while they had their morning coffee. We would find him sitting with neighbhourhood cats on our porch. People passing by took photos of him he was so relaxed and happy and beautiful in the sunshine. He seemed so savvy. Like he just knew. It was clear to us that this was the life he preferred. To be able to spend time outdoors, making friends, in the sunshine, for just short bits every day - then to return to us to cuddle and relax and give and receive love in our home. It was perfect. We adopted a dog 4 years ago and they became best friends. We had a beautiful, easy routine and it felt really good and right.
Three years ago we moved again to busier two way street (our previous street was one way). We kept him in for two months after we moved, with the intention not to let him out, worried about the road. He again became the miserable cat we brought in 4 years earlier. He peed by the door. He attacked our dog. He cried and put his claws in our faces (which had not happened since we first kept him in when we got him). We tried upping his exercise, play time, brought back the diffuser. He could not tolerate a collar so tying him up felt like it was not an option. We made a decision at that time to start to let him out in the back yard. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. Same routine as before. He responded immediately and his whole demeanour changed. He became himself. It's hard to describe but he seemed so content. Like everything was right. My husband and I talked at LENGTH about the risks. We said to each other, it is a risk he could be injured or killed, we know this, we accept this risk because being able to have the freedom to go outside truly seems to be important for his spirit and his well being. And for over 3 years he adopted the same routine - he would go about his business, visiting people, visiting cats, sleeping in the sunshine in our garden. He went out every morning for an hour and every afternoon for 3-4 hours and this was our routine.
This past Wednesday everything changed. He went out in the morning after breakfast as usual. Usually myself or my husband will let him in before we go, and we don't typically check with each other because he is always just waiting for whoever leaves first to let him in. From there he heads upstairs to the laundry basket where he spends the rest of the middle of the day, and then returns downstairs in the afternoon when we get home. Then we feed him and he goes back out until supper. When Neil wasn't asking to be let out when I got home I checked with my husband and found out that he hadn't let Neil in in the morning when he left. Our hearts dropped and we started going door to door. I learned from someone a few houses down on the opposite side of the street that they saw Neil get hit by a car that morning. They didn't know he was our cat (we didn't know these neighbhours, sadly) so they called animal control and Neil's body was picked up. It all happened within an hour - before we even left the house in the morning. They told me that Neil had visited them before. They told me that he stepped out in front of a car that was not travelling fast, just stepped right out in front of it. There was no time. And he died instantly.
We were shocked. We sobbed. I threw up. I cried all night between short bouts of sleep. We called Animal Control but couldn't retrieve his body until Thursday morning because the main office was closed. In the morning we called again and arranged to pick his body. We brought a box for them to put him in. Even though they had confirmed with his microchip, I had to make sure it was him. I looked in the box and found his precious body curled up in a perfect ball and his face badly damaged. It was at once the worst feeling imaginable and also strangely important, to see it was him and to say goodbye to him. We drove to a nearby town and had him privately cremated.
Now what? Everywhere I look he is there but isn't there. He would have been beside me right now as I type. And he isn't here. I imagine his poor sweet face so badly injured. The last three nights have been unbearably lonely. I cleaned up where he eats on the buffet in the dining room today. I threw up again. I can't stop crying. I can't focus. I'm not sleeping well, waking myself up in tears. I feel profoundly sad. I actually said to my husband that I feel worse about this, sadder, like I wish I could take it back more, than my own father's death. I grew up on a farm and we had outdoor cats who were taken by coyotes - I am no stranger to loss. This is so very different. I feel responsible. But then I remember his how much his quality of life improved by being allowed outside... which then makes me feel worse because I feel like I'm trying to justify this thing that went so horribly wrong.
My heart hurts so much. I wish there was some way I could see him again. To tell him goodbye and that I am so sorry. Please if anyone has experienced anything like this, how did you cope? I'm attaching a photo my sister drew of his sweet sleeping face. It looks exactly like him.
Condolences on losing Neil & while I am very,very glad you joined TCS, I am sorry that it is under such sad circumstances. Neil sounds like he was your soul-kitty as well as being a link with your dad (my dad died unexpectedly in the yard on 04/30/11 with only his wolf-dog & his cats keeping vigil). In ancient Egypt, you would have shaven your eyebrows and been given time of off work to grieve; many of us here can appreciate that intensity of grief.
