When the grief hits again and again

Boojie in front of the heater - his favourite spot. 

Last couple of days, I thought I had found a happy place in my mind where I could think of him without breaking down, but nope. The grief has caught up with me again today. It feels like an extreme form of loneliness and isolation, alone in my mind and even in the midst of noise, I can feel the dead weight of silence. It's the inescapable regret of not having done enough that keeps coming back to haunt me. 

In these moments, I'm constantly wishing he'd just suddenly appear and all would be well again. It makes me wonder about reality, and if I could see him somehow living in a parallel universe. My happiness would be an attempt to encompass and honour his spirit in me but I can't make it work. These attempts failed and all I have in me is the cold cruel truth of his loss. 

I know whatever I do to try to free myself from this grief, nothing can replace the overpowering yearning in me for him to be alive again. If he had lived, I think I would have done all I could to get him and my other fur baby out of this place and into a bigger, better home with more stairs to climb and closets to hide in. He would have been a much happier cat and probably would have grown free of his health condition. No stress anymore. Just a happy, care-free cat who could have lived out a full life as he should have in the fur-baby body he was born into, given to him by the cool and magical dust of the universe and his ancestors, and then gifted to us - his human guardians - so we could learn to love and care and raise an entirely different species, another living being, as our own. 

Boojie-Boo-Boo, you are never too far in my thoughts, and if I slip and get distracted, memories of you always reappear to remind me of your eternal jovial quintessence. 

Kedi weaves a tender narrative about street cats in Istanbul and the humans who love them

Kedi by Ceyda Torun

My Boojie-Boo-Boo (d. Jan 28, 2017) and Lalu-Jaanu.
Not street cats but sweet and feisty fur babies, all the same.

In the film, it is said that cats know better than dogs that humxns aren't gods and that cats have the power to sense when the humxns they're close to are struggling with some toxic feelings. The humxns in this film assert that the street cats they befriended would make them feel joy again. This is so true. This film made me laugh and cry. I rejoiced in knowing that Lalu was waiting for me at home. I remembered my fur baby AK.

I have so much respect for the Turkish folks of Istanbul featured in this film who were so kind to the cats and kittens. They fed them. They welcomed them into their homes and shops. They gave them affection when they needed it. And they backed off when the kitties needed their space and freedom. It's an old culture of care for street animals that's rare, like one of the guys in the film who would take bags of meat and fish around the city where colonies of street cats lived and then feed them. People would say to him that God would provide, and he would respond by telling them he was God's middle-man then.

There were some heartwarming insights and perspectives shared by these cat humxns of Istanbul - deeply reflective, tender, and poetic. What's more, we get to really understand that all of the cats featured have their own unique personalities, which is true of any and every cat, and for that matter, any and every other nonhumxn animal. It's unfortunate that many humxns can't or don't want to see that. This film deepens our awareness of feline culture and community.

It was a beautiful film. Hot Docs Cinema will be adding more showtimes since it's been a packed house every day the film's been shown. Check it out if you can! I can't wait til it either appears on Netflix OR I can get my hands on a DVD copy!

Letter to my Cat, AK/Boojie, b.Aug.7, 2012 - d.Jan.28, 2017

Memorial for Boojie near the front door where
he used to wait for me or to ask me to let him out.
His favourite catnip is in the black box on the right. 

Dear Boojie,

I know you were also named AK, but you always responded to me whenever I called you "Boojie" - thank you for accepting my name for you.

My darling energetic fun-loving fur baby, I miss you so much. It's been nearly 6 days since you passed away with me right beside you. The grief I feel seems like it's going to last forever. It hits me on a daily basis, even though I try my best to distract myself. I know when it seeps into my heart whenever I feel weakness there. It is dread, it is sadness, it is despair, it is silent distress. I could be walking out of a coffee shop or off the bus, and wham! it hits me as I look out into the sometimes quiet, the sometimes busy streets of the city. I wonder if you are out there, still, in spirit, and I will call your name under my breath, and then the tears would well up.

Some of my friends have told me to move on. Blogs by pet experts tell me that you are up there somewhere wanting me to be happy and to accept that you had chosen to leave that way. I think that's all nonsense, Boojie! Why would a cat who was so curious about everything he smelled, he saw, he heard, he touched choose death? Boojie, you loved being Alive. I witnessed it. You were like a kitty growing into your adulthood with so many questions about the world around you. Not just that, you were also an anxious cat, easily frightened by strange sounds coming in through the windows, and you would move ever so cautiously towards a new toy or object that I would bring into the home, and I know you never liked the hand-held vacuum cleaner I'd use to clean up the cat hairs and catnip on the rugs. It doesn't make sense to me that you would "choose" to go in such a way that probably frightened you and that caused you to suffer so much.

Boojie, I know you didn't want to die. Your death was senseless. You didn't have to die. You didn't have to go so soon. So, Boojie, I am sorry that I didn't do enough to save you. I'm sorry that I didn't take preventative measures to ensure that after that first time you fell ill and I took you to the vet, that you'd never have to experience that kind of illness again. But I failed miserably because I didn't think it would catch up with you like it did. I thought you'd be completely healed and this condition would never come back. But it did.

When I first adopted you, I believed that young cats were the epitome of good feline health. I never considered that you young fur babies could get too sick since your bodies would be strong enough to fight off whatever sickness that may come up from time to time. So, when I first started learning about Urinary Tract Blockage in young male cats, I did not think it was something that serious that would affect you. Time and time again, I'd notice you'd have trouble urinating, but then would bounce back and start urinating as usual.

The first time I witnessed the illness take hold of you, I was really scared. When I took you to the vet, the vet I saw was not the nicest person. She didn't even explain things to me - she just said if I didn't do all these tests now, you would die. I was in tears and texted my sis about the situation. I told her how much it would cost to get all these tests done, which was pretty much my rent, and for a person living month to month, I knew I needed to borrow from others to pay for your treatment. Boojie, I want you to know that you are not responsible for whether I could pay or not pay for your treatment. Like I said, I should have taken preventative measures that could have protected you from developing a blockage had I known that this was something especially male cats are at huge risk of.

The vet then offered the other option and that was to give you an antibiotic for now to reduce the potential for infection or to get rid of the infection since we had no idea what it actually was. I took you home and made sure you were cozy and then left for work. But then the next day or two, you started urinating blood and I was panicking. I took you back to the vet and this time I left you there for the day so the vet could see what was up. I was in tears when I dropped you off and the receptionist felt sorry for me and offered me some kind words.

The vet - different vet who had seen you a few times before - called me and said that she was prescribing pain meds for now and that the antibiotics were kicking in. She said if your condition didn't improve, that I could bring you back in for an x-ray to see what was happening in your urinary tract. I was relieved when I heard this and also super grateful for my sister who paid for the meds and covered the cost of the antibiotics.

I took you home and monitored your condition. In a few short days, you were back to peeing as normal, but was kind of starting to avoid your litter box because, Boojie, I know you had connected the litter box with the pain of your illness. So, then I accommodated things for you and took off the cover of the litter box and placed the box in a different location in the apartment. You used it for your poo and occasionally used it for pee, but sometimes I'd either find a large wet spot on one of the rugs just before I had to head to work or would sniff it out after coming home. I'd always know because you'd treat the small rugs like they were litter and would bunch up the area on the rugs where you peed. I knew you were feeling some distress, and I didn't want to make things harder for you, so I just went about cleaning after you and being encouraging and supportive because I knew it was more important that you were peeing on the rugs instead of not peeing at all anywhere. I was always happy each time you peed even though it meant vigorously washing or replacing each of the rugs. Much later, a friend suggested that I put pee pads everywhere - the kind people use to train their puppies. I did that and you didn't seem to like them much. You did pee on one once, but in general, you were always looking for another rug to pee on.

During that period of time, you seemed ok - eating as normal, meeting me at the door when I came home from work, waiting patiently for your wet food meals mornings and evenings, sitting on top of me and then eventually going to sleep on top of me, chasing after the furry wiggly toy I bought for you and that I'd use for your playtime, exploring with so much fascination the stairwell of the building even though you'd already been out there the previous day - it's like you had discovered something new about it every time, drinking water from the bowl as normal, being silly with Lalu or at least trying to get her to play cat and mouse with you, jumping on the window sill and looking out into the world - listening to the sounds of traffic and making eye contact with the friendly squirrels scrambling around on the roof of the building next to ours...I believed that you'd have a long happy life and that we would no longer have to worry about that illness again.

I recall now that time I saw a psychic and asked her about you and Lalu. She told me she could see a cat that had black fur markings - Lalu, and a cat that was gray. I was confused because you are not a gray kitty. She said she heard a lot of meowing. I knew then that sometimes you'd meow to ask me to open the front door to let you out into the stairwell so I thought she was referring to that. Since that session, this strange discomfort remained in the back of my mind. It wasn't until after you were gone, that I realized the discomfort was a warning of the loss to come and that the meowing she heard was you, later, trying to tell me that you were in pain.

Close-up of Boojie as he sat on top
of me. He'd do this every time I
would lay down. I think it was his way of
giving he and I some comfort. 

It happened in a blink of an eye. I didn't know what was happening but I prayed you'd be ok til I could take you back to the vet to get all those tests done, especially the x-ray. The clinic receptionists would time to time check in with me about you, but now in retrospect, I wish it had been your vet doing the check-ins. I wish that the vet had explained to me that you may experience a relapse of the condition. I wish the vet had sat down with me to get a sense of what your living conditions were like and what in the space you shared with me and Lalu could put you at risk of urinary tract blockage or infection. I wish that the vet had explained to me what the first signs of a blockage were and what I needed to do the moment I noticed any of these symptoms. I wish the vet had asked me about your diet and then recommended hers instead of not checking in with me about what you liked eating and did not like eating. I wish she had told me that the kibble diets that she had recommended for you to help you control your weight and to help you maintain your dental health may also put you at risk of blockage/crystals forming in your urinary tract because the water content in these dry food diets was not enough to keep your internal organs hydrated and to keep fluids moving as they should.

But, Boojie, I know I should have been pro-active as well and initiated these conversations with the vet; I should have asked her plenty of questions to confirm what I've read about this condition online. Reading something online and hearing it from the vet are two completely different things, and I believe if I had gotten the information from the latter, you'd probably still be alive, Boojie.

It was a painful experience to witness your death. But I know that had I taken you to emergency that night, you may not have survived the cold commute and all the moving around. I may have had to put you down at the hospital and maybe they might not have allowed me in the room while they put you to sleep or maybe they would have but you might have felt even more scared under the bright lights and strange faces with their instruments. My intuition told me not to put you through that. Although right up until the time of your death just after 3:35 a.m. on Saturday, Jan. 28, 2017, I thought you'd still pull through. My sis told me to make sure to comfort you by stroking your fur and whispering encouraging words to you. I did all of that, and when the clock struck your time, I heard a gurgling from your throat, and my hand on your body no longer felt the slow up and down movement of your breathing. I checked to make sure - I called your name and stroked you gently and put my ear on your body to listen for a heartbeat. No sound, no movement. Your eyes were glassy and your mouth remained open. I called my sister and burst into tears as I told her you were gone. She began crying too.

Remember, Boojie, when my sis came to town and she came over to meet you and Lalu? Remember when she held you on her lap and looked into your eyes? I knew she had fallen for you the same way I had when I first saw that pic my friend had posted of you on Facebook when your former guardian needed to find you a new home. I was only supposed to foster care for you for a couple of weeks till a new forever home for you could be found, but within the week of your arrival, I brushed aside all thoughts of letting you go, and I picked up that phone and told your former guardian that I'd like to be the one to give you that forever home. My sister did too and she said that if ever I couldn't handle two cats, she'd take on your care and would come to take you to Vancouver where she lived with her friendly dog, who you would have totally gotten along with! Now that I think about it, you were more like a dog than a cat, Boojie! You had such a large presence in this home and you'd always be waiting by the door for me to come home to either let you spend some time running up and down the stairs in the stairwell or feed you your favourite wet food. If only I had done that sooner, Boojie. My sister would have had all the resources to take good care of you. She had close friends who had cats and knew a lot more than I did about their health needs and risks. She would have had them to turn to if you had gotten ill again. Oh my Boojie, I denied you the chance to live a long carefree, comfortable, and happy life!

Just two days ago, I woke up after hearing your meow somewhere near where my head rests on the pillow. When you were alive, that's where you'd sit and wait for me to get up. You'd sometimes jump on the bed from that spot and try to get me to wake up. It was always around 4:30am-5am that you would wake up and become restless. You were only relaxed once I got up. I know part of it was the wet food meal, but even with that, you were patient to wait until 6:30am-7am. I sometimes felt that you were anxious about me not waking up. It's almost like you were warning me about something - that I needed to be awake and conscious of things around me.

I've had fears in this place I live in. I think some of that fear remained in the atmosphere of our home and Boojie, I think you picked up on it. I used to follow your eyes up to a spot on where the wall would meet the ceiling just above the head of my sofa bed. I'd see nothing there, but I was always fascinated by how intently you'd look up at that spot. Sometimes it was nothing more than a bug on the wall that I saw you staring at, but other times, it was just empty space and I wondered what you could see that I could not.

And then just days before you died, remember Boojie, we heard the cries of a cat outdoors? Remember I stepped out into the cold night to find out where the cries were coming from so I could help the poor kitty? Remember the very next morning, we heard the cries again, and this time, I opened the back door to look around and saw an orange tabby I've seen before in the neighbourhood walking up the concrete backyard stairs of the apartment building next to ours? Remember you heard me call out to that cat, and it just looked at me for a while and then looked away? Remember when you saw me place a bowl of water and a bowl of kibble for that cat on the landing of the iron stairwell? I saw that you were curious about it but this time, you stayed well away from the open back door. When I came home, I went outside on that stairwell to collect the two bowls. It was raining hard. The food and water had been left untouched.

We didn't hear again the cries of that cat, but then your cries started shortly after. I thought you were annoyed with something Boojie, I didn't know you were getting sick again. I thought that whatever it was, you'd pull through it. But you didn't. You died. And now I wonder if that tabby had anything to do with it or maybe it was just a coincidence? I know that most folks don't believe in some of the more unscientific, metaphysical, spiritual theories out there about human and nonhuman animal souls, but something about the timing and replication of that tabby's cries (and possible illness) manifesting in you gave me a sense that something other-worldly had taken place between you and the tabby. I don't know what it was Boojie, and I know people will call me crazy for even mentioning such a far-fetched notion. Whatever people may think, it was an uncanny occurrence, and however I may interpret it all, the mystery and tragedy of your death will haunt me for life.

I don't know where you are now, Boojie, but I miss you so much. I see all of the pics of you I've posted on Instagram and Facebook, and the pics still in my phone, and the pics I've framed. Lalu every now and then will look for you but I think she now knows that you're gone. I know your relationship with her wasn't easy because Lalu is not as young as you were. Still, I am so grateful for the love and care you gave to her. She became so active when you were around. I had never seen her run that way before around the house to chase after you. She never did that before you came. Now she's back to being inactive and I'm trying to coax her to do what you did in the stairwell and get some exercise. She greets me at the door now too the way you did, but she still walks over after the door's been opened unlike you, who used to literally sit nead the edge of the frame waiting for the door to open so you could bounce out and sniff me and my bags. Sometimes I'd have treats inside for you and Lalu.

I think I have a long way to go before I can reconcile with your loss. I think many times, we humans adopt fur babies like you and Lalu for our own benefit, what we like to call "pet therapy", but not giving much consideration to the actual responsibility of caring for another living being. I think cats - more so than dogs - remain a great mystery to many of us, which includes knowledge of their mental, physical, and emotional health needs and risks. To this day, there is no conclusive explanation for the condition that took your life. Was it diet? Was it stress? Was it due to a pre-existing condition that developed while you were a kitten? Was it environmental toxins? Nobody has hit the nail on the head, and said, "A-ha, I've found the definitive cause!" Vets can only recommend tests to monitor the condition and ensure that it doesn't get out of hand, and that's why, Boojie, I should have fostered a much stronger relationship with your vet and got all the answers I needed to accommodate for your recovery and care.

I don't believe that our much-loved deceased pet companions forgive us if we had failed to act quickly to save their lives. I think that in order for there to be forgiveness, we as former guardians of the ones we lost unnecessarily need to take accountability. Boojie, I want so badly to adopt another cat like you so I can do better this time, but I know that bringing in another cat into this household and with the limited resources I have is not the way to fix things and to heal. So, this is what I believe is what I should do as a way of taking accountability and a way of honouring your life and your death:

• Take care of Lalu while I still have her here by giving her the best food, by giving her a stimulating environment so she can have some active playtime, by grooming her when she wants it, by scratching her head when she comes to me and asks with her eyes, by fostering a strong relationship with her vet (might have to take her to a new vet) and ensure that I get all the answers I need to know how to look out for any potential signs of illness that require immediate veterinary treatment - and in order for me to do this right, I'd have to keep building Lalu's health/medical funds because as Lalu gets older, she's going to need more veterinary monitoring and care. 
• Donate to charities such as Toronto Cat Rescue, the Ontario SPCA, and other pet adoption agencies and shelters. 
• Celebrate your birthday every year on Aug. 7th. You would have been 5 this year. 
• Remember the anniversary of your passing every year on Jan. 28th. 
• Cherish all the wonderful memories I have of you in pictures by creating an album of your life or maybe also in the form of a book of stories about you, my sweet fur baby. I can also use the photos of you that your former guardians sent to me of you as a kitten. 
• Strengthen the bonds of friendship with your former guardians. Boojie, I want you to know how much they love and miss you right now, and how much they wish things could have been different. They've both given me a lot of support since your death and we will all together honour your cremains in a special ceremony that will hopefully free your spirit so you can go on to the next life or to another world and share your glee with others.
• Build my resources in this life, seek out the career I want in Law, and start building towards that animal sanctuary dream I have where I will learn how to really take care of cats, dogs, cows, sheep, hens, roosters, baby chicks, pigs and their piglets, horses, and other rescued animals. I don't know whether I'll live to see all of this happen. If I don't, then I'll make sure to include in my Will to donate a certain amount of the funds I've left behind to animal sanctuaries and pet adoption agencies, all in your memory, and probably also Lalu's if she too doesn't outlive me. 

I will end this now, Boojie, with a du'a for you, my little Boojie-Boo-Boo:

May you never have to fear that you are at risk of harm in whatever form your spirit accepts. 

May the next journey give you, your spirit, and your body all the strength to overcome any storm, 

But may you have the affirmation in knowing that you are perfectly safe. 

May you be completely free from the pain and suffering of your former blocked body. 

May you feel the water replenish your spirit, nourish and revive you.

May you no longer be trapped on earth in the life you had.

May you be free from all karmic life cycles that bring you suffering. 

May you be experiencing great Liberation now as you explore and choose the next life you want.

May you guide those of us who loved you to do better for all animals. 

May you someday forgive those of us who loved you when you can feel our transformation as we work towards creating a more harmonious life with the furry friends we welcome into our homes.

May you always know that the Love I feel for you is safe and sound in a heart that will never stop beating until and unless I've fulfilled the promises I've made to you above. 

May the stars light up your path and bring you to a new destination, a new forever home. 

But may you also enjoy the journey to that place while you can. 

And may you have other feline friends to guide you on the way and protect you.

I'm cheering you on, Boojie! 

I will always love you, my fur baby Boojie. I will always...love you. 

Fare thee well, sweet angel, you are free at last. 

💖

One of Boojie's favourite places:
the building's stairwell. He would walk down
and then look up to see if I were still there
looking out for him while he explored.