I cannot write this kind of thing twice; so I will just share an edited version of what I put on my social media:
Mooch crossed the bridge yesterday. She just couldn’t rally one more time. 5 weeks from turning 20…
Her labs showed she was declining and had gone from good to poor quickly. So we let her go. Almost 20 years…. Thats nearly half my life and the kids have never known life without her. She called; DS always came even if I scolded him because we were doing schoolwork. He became “her boy.”
She’s been my lap buddy since DH’s deployment days. My chatterbox. Even yesterday she was talking with us while she felt so poorly. She was trying.
I just want to scream I want my baby back…
Even though I’d never want to make her stay with the way she was the night before. I spent most of the night awake nearby.
Coming home without her…she’s everywhere. From the tray of meds with prescriptions I just refilled, the half can of food in the fridge, the stash on the counter from trying to get her to eat, the beds, puppy pads, steps to the couch and especially…her empty chair. A senior cat house for sure.
My baby, my Mooch. Anything less than forever feels cruel. It feels like there are not words to properly express my love for her; my soul-kitty. Or my grief trying to come through terms with saying goodbye.
I love you Moochie.
🤍

Mooch crossed the bridge yesterday. She just couldn’t rally one more time. 5 weeks from turning 20…

Her labs showed she was declining and had gone from good to poor quickly. So we let her go. Almost 20 years…. Thats nearly half my life and the kids have never known life without her. She called; DS always came even if I scolded him because we were doing schoolwork. He became “her boy.”

She’s been my lap buddy since DH’s deployment days. My chatterbox. Even yesterday she was talking with us while she felt so poorly. She was trying.
I just want to scream I want my baby back…

Coming home without her…she’s everywhere. From the tray of meds with prescriptions I just refilled, the half can of food in the fridge, the stash on the counter from trying to get her to eat, the beds, puppy pads, steps to the couch and especially…her empty chair. A senior cat house for sure.
My baby, my Mooch. Anything less than forever feels cruel. It feels like there are not words to properly express my love for her; my soul-kitty. Or my grief trying to come through terms with saying goodbye.
I love you Moochie.


