I started off my week in a really shitty way. I found my cat had passed away. And while we were kinda preparing for it, nothing ever really prepares you for that moment.

Storm was almost 20 years old. And she not only was my husband’s first real pet, but also our first pet together. When my husband moved into his apartment, he said he was thinking of getting a pet. So of course I picked up a kitten for him. She was so tiny she would sit on his shoulder while he played video games. And when she was just a couple months old, she broke her leg. My parents were kind enough to pay for her cast. She was always resilient. Everytime we thought she was a goner, she used up another of her 9 lives and surprised us.

She survived our other cat Kurt, who annoyed her, and passed a few years ago. She survived an apartment and moving into 3 houses. She survived our dog Dexter who felt the need to always nose bop her to check on her. She survived having a growth on her mouth that the vet said would require surgery and eventually just kinda fell off on it’s own. And most recently, she survived hurting her leg which she had broken as a kitten, if only for a little while. We think it just proved too much on her system. She was like 200 years old, as I liked to say.

So I found her Monday morning. And my heart broke. And I am still recovering. Our hearts never really heal from losing a pet. We just kinda stitch them back together, frayed around the edges. Pets are a wonderful thing. They bring us so much joy and so many days of love. And one of the worst days of our lives.