Twelve years ago, when I was just 18 and in one of the darkest places of my life, he came into my world. I can’t put into words how much he saved me. He gave me a reason to keep going when I didn’t think I had one.
He was big — everyone always commented on his size — but he was the gentlest giant you could ever imagine. Soft, cuddly, and so deeply connected to emotion. He was the only cat I’ve ever known who would meow in pure excitement just because one of my other cats walked into the room. He had this way of looking right into my soul, like he understood everything I couldn’t even say out loud.
He gave me purpose. He made me want to keep trying.
Just last Tuesday, we celebrated his 12th birthday. He was his usual chatty, goofy self. He had his tuna cake. He soaked up all the cuddles. His appetite, as always, was huge — right up until the very end.
And then Friday came.
I had just sat down to eat lunch when I heard the most heartbreaking howl coming from the catio. I ran outside and found him on the ground — twitching, soaked, crying out in pain. My heart stopped. I scooped him up and called the vet, rushing him in as fast as I could.
I looked into his eyes — those same eyes that always saw me so clearly — and I knew… he couldn’t see me anymore. His pupils were blown. His body was limp.
The vet tried everything — oxygen, reflex tests — but the scan revealed what we never could have known. A hidden tumor in his intestine. She told me cats are masters at hiding their pain. The tumor had likely thrown a clot straight to his brain. There was nothing we could do. And just like that… I lost him.
Now, everything feels different. The house feels emptier. The spots where he used to nap are quiet. I still catch myself waiting to hear his purr, or feel him brushing against my legs at mealtime, too impatient to wait. It’s like a piece of me — the part he helped heal — has shattered all over again.
I turn 30 next week. I started my 20s with him by my side, and I thought we’d walk into my 30s together. The fact that I can’t bring him with me is tearing me apart. I just want him back. I just want my boy.
If you made it this far, thank you for listening to our story. Please, hug your babies a little tighter for me tonight. You never know how much time you have left. ❤️