I had to put my cat down last week.

She was fifteen years old. She was sick. I took her to the vet and they couldn’t find anything obvious wrong, but she wasn’t using her litter, and I knew that it would just get worse. After a couple of days, I took her back to the vet, and we decided it was her time.

It was not a tough decision. I had been preparing for this time emotionally for a while now, and I had made up my mind that I would not do like some pet owners do, and try to keep her alive beyond her time. The price for that is far too high, both financially and in terms of both of our suffering. I am at peace with that decision and I was at peace with it at the time I made it. And the vet also said he would have made the same decision, so… I am at peace with it.

But while I was at peace with the decision, I am still not at peace with the process of making that decision.

I was sitting in a room with her in a carrier on the table, and she was probably not feeling all that good, scared of being there (she hated going outside, not just the vet), and the vet and I were having a somewhat casual conversation about whether it was the right time to end her life.

I will never be okay with that.

They gave her a sedative, and when they took her to the back, she was growling. It’s not so much that she knew, but that she would have killed if she’d been fully awake. But that bothered me, a little. She was conscious enough to growl. I know that it was a peaceful passing, and that she really was sedated, but it still bothered me, a little. It didn’t help that when I was walking out with the empty carrier the receptionist said “Have a wonderful day!” Umm… how? They were in the back right at that moment killing my friend. I mean, I know there are euphemistic words for it… “putting to sleep”, “putting down”, “ending their suffering”, even “euthanasia”, but that’s what it is, at the end of the day. Killing a friend I had for fifteen years.

I haven’t really cried over it. There’s no reason to. It was her time, and I refuse to mourn something or someone that has had a long and full life – and if I can say anything about my former cat, she did have a long and full life. I feel the same about people, too. I don’t mourn ninety year olds. It’s their time, and that is the nature of things.

I will be making her a memorial website shortly, so I won’t go into details about her life here. She had many things that made her unique, and all of them will be remembered.

But yesterday I got back her remains from the crematory. I felt it was the only respectful thing I could do, to get her ashes back and display them, as a testament to her fifteen years of life with me.

And when I realized I was taking her home for the last time, that’s when it kind of hit me. The contents of that box used to be my companion.

I’m still not sad. But I miss her. I don’t think I ever won’t. I still walk into my bedroom and expect to see her lounging on the bed or looking out the window. I still subconsciously try to keep her from running into the bathroom or the pantry (getting her out was a pain). I still expect to see her wandering out of the bedroom into the living area when I’m making something to eat. And when I play the piano and she’s not there listening, well, it’s a bit of a pang.

I’m not getting another cat. Not for a long time. Fifteen years was enough, and while I can get another cat that will be as good in its own way, well, it won’t be her.

I’m not telling you her name here. It will be enough to identify me. But let’s call her, umm… Minnie, I guess. I’ll miss you, Minnie.