We just had to say goodbye to our beloved cat, Thor, in the midst of all this. 

Thor was diagnosed with cancer long before our son was. He was a special cat, but right or wrong, pet illnesses don’t make headline news the way child illnesses do. We had been giving him steroids for months, knowing he was on borrowed time since February. When he stopped eating or using his litter box or moving much at all, we knew it was time, and he was ready to go. He was calm and peaceful at the vet as he drifted off while we pet him and cried. 

Nothing seems fair right now. I loved that cat completely, as much as a person could love an animal. It feels absolutely cruel that he should’ve been taken from us right now. We’ve decided to hold off on any new pets for the foreseeable future because we just can’t take any more heartbreak. To love intensely is what makes us human. We get pets, have kids, get into deep relationships, and all of these connections have risks associated with them. Animals die. People die or move or break our hearts. There is never a guarantee that we will be loved as well or completely as we love others. 

But the alternative is so much worse. To never experience the connections would be to never experience the best parts of being human. “‘Tis better to have loved and lost,” etc. Still. The loss hurts. It always hurts. 

After the hurt fades a little though, after some of the grief has run its course, we can look back and remember why the connection mattered, what we learned, how we grew, and how we laughed together in the best of times. In the case of this special cat, he also brought our family closer together, so our shared memories of him, even through his loss and in his absence, continue to help us. Thor the cat (as Indiana the most special dog did before him) is helping to teach my sons about loss and death, so that they may see it as a part of life.

And so, it may hurt for a while, but we will someday heal enough to be ready to repeat the cycle. We are human, after all.