R.I.P. Coco Kitty

ChelseaDeath, Personal2 Comments

One of those little black balls of fluff is a newborn Coco Kitty in May of 1993(with sweet, sweet momma Cassie Cat):


Loot at the precious!:


And here she is all grown up just a few short months ago:


After 19 years, it’s hard to believe that she’s really gone. Though stuffed full of boxes, shelves and power tools, the garage feels eerily empty now. I keep hoping this was all just a bad dream and soon I’ll wake up, open the garage door and there she will be with her quacky-sounding meow begging for food and chin scratches.

I knew it was going to be hard, but, damn. Nothing could have prepared me for that. And though I’m still heartbroken, I am also relieved. After a major grief-stricken meltdown, God finally brought me to a place where I was ready to say goodbye and let her go. And go she did, sometime last night under my car. She was born in our house and she died in our house. That’s as it should be, I think.

She was a good old girl. I will miss her terribly.

Now, let’s just hope God gives me a few more years, at least, before I have to go through this again with one of the dogs. They’re getting up there.

But now ask the beasts to teach you, and the birds of the air to tell you; Or the reptiles on earth to instruct you, and the fish of the sea to inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of God has done this? In his hand is the soul of every living thing, and the life breath of all mankind. (Job 12:7-10)

I should note that in my almost 30 years, this was the first time I’ve ever had to really face death. I was never with or near any of our other animals that died. Same goes for the few family members and friends I have lost. As I said, it has been a bitter lesson in detachment and shown me how very much more I need to grow in faith and trust in God.

“Be not afraid.” It sounds like such a simple command, and yet

God give me hope and trust in you!

2 Comments on “R.I.P. Coco Kitty”

  1. God give you comfort, Chelsea. Thank you for sharing this bitter part of your journey; I’ll be praying for you, as always!

    “In Heaven…” -Blessed Louis Martin, father of St. Terese of Lisieux

  2. So sorry, CZ.

    At least you know that Coco went when it was her time; you weren’t forced to have that moment come prematurely. I know all the arguments people make about “being in control” and “limiting suffering,” but I think it’s better to err on the side of life. I’m sure you filled Coco’s life with love, including, and perhaps especially, during those last few months.

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