I cried all day on Monday, shed more tears yesterday, and have found myself on the verge of breaking down several times today.
How could one tiny kitty knock such a big guy on his ass to the point that he cannot get upright again?
I don’t want this blog to become a morbid space where I share depressing thoughts about the death of my beloved pet, which is why I made sure not to blog yesterday.
Today, however, the Modern Philosopher in me wants to speak his mind. As much as I am heartbroken at the loss of Luna, I’m even more pissed off at whatever higher being is up there pulling the strings.
I mean, seriously? All the $%^& that I deal with on a daily basis, and I have to lose one of the few things in this world that brings me happiness and comfort? How is that remotely close to fair?
Luna was a sweet, shy kitty, who never caused me a moment’s grief. Hadn’t she already been put through enough when she was brought to the shelter by her previous owner? When I adopted Luna and Cali, the staff told me they had been there the longest of all the cats. While that seemed ridiculous because they were both so precious and adorable, it was good for me because I got to take them home.
After having to deal with shelter life, and finally finding a forever home with a daddy who loved her and would never abandon her, Luna only got to enjoy her new home for three years. How the #$%^ is that fair?
What kind of god allows this $%^&? I already have enough of a struggle with my faith, but I still pray every night before bed. The first thing I always pray for is for god to watch over my kitties and to keep them “happy, healthy, and with me forever”.
When Luna got sick, I prayed every night for her recovery. I begged god to spare her, to help the vet figure out what was wrong, and to just keep her with me.
As she started to look and act better, I thanked god every night for her progress and prayed that she would continue to grow stronger.
Sunday night when I went to bed, I thanked god that Luna had eaten all her food, and told him I would hand feed her every day for however long it took until she got better.
I woke the next morning to find that Luna had passed in her sleep.
How is that fair? Why bring this amazing pet into my life and only let me love her for three years? Why was she eating again and acting more like herself if she was just going to leave this world behind?
When Banky, my little black cat, died at age 18, I vowed I would never again get a cat because I could not handle the grief that destroyed me when they left this world.
But those close to me convinced me to go to the Humane Society, and I found Luna and Cali. I was so happy. I thought to myself that this dynamic duo would be scampering around The House on the Hill for the next decade at least.
So why did Luna only get three years?
Why is Cali wandering the house now looking for her sister?
Why am I brokenhearted again? Why am I losing my faith in god and questioning the randomness of life?
This is absolute !@#$%^&.
Why does god allow this kind of thing to happen? Why are innocent animals made to suffer? She got a $%^&* running nose and six months lately she’s dead.
I don’t understand why this is even an option. Where was Luna’s guardian angel? Why wasn’t god looking out for her?
Luna didn’t deserve this. She should be running around this house, chasing her sister, eating her dinner, and curling up in my lap to have her chin scratched.
My kitty didn’t deserve to suffer. Life sucks. I’m so tired of how unfair it is.
Someone explain to me how a loving god would allow such heartbreaking things to happen in a world that has already gone to $%^&. Why can’t I have my simple pleasures? All I wanted was for my kitties to be safe and happy.
Was I asking too much? If there is a god, he clearly doesn’t give a $%^& about me.
Sorry for the anger and the strong language, but I’m shaken, Modern Philosophers, and I want an explanation for why I’m dealing with this loss right now…