While we’ve been fortunate to have some wonderful pets in our lives, none have touched our hearts the way our cat Moby has. It’s why we were so worried recently as he become more lethargic, eventually stopped eating completely, and started to turn yellow in his gums and eyes on Friday before Memorial Day. It was a day burned into our memories forever — like a coin with two sides: a joyous heart pumping fond memories alongside the cold, stinging ache of loss.
We rushed Moby right after work to Aboite Animal Clinic in Fort Wayne, and were trying to be optimistic thinking he might have a kitty UTI. When we arrived, the nurse came out in a mask (this was during COVID-19) and told us male cats can have problems with UTIs because “their penises are just so teeny tiny!” We rushed to cover Moby’s ears so his self-esteem didn’t get hurt.
But she quickly came back out saying it wasn’t a UTI and that something more serious was wrong. He would need to stay a few nights at least and needed an IV, blood work, and X-rays to diagnose swelling in his abdomen. He had a condition we’d never heard of called hepatic lipidosis, also known as “Fatty Liver Syndrome,” which can often be fatal and is complicated and ill-understood in cats. Suddenly that vision of seeing her walk away with our sweet tuxedo cat in a cage became a strange realization:
Sometimes things are taken from us in a moment — our reality can crumble underneath us just as fast.
Not your average cat: kneading muffins, rattling the door, and other beloved feline quirks
Moby was here when we moved into this house. He was here when we got married. Moby was here waiting for us after every trip we’ve gone on and was waiting for us eagerly every day after work. He was kind of animal that embodies qualities good people have; he gave true meaning to “personification.”
Moby would knead muffins on our knees, lick our hair until it was perfectly groomed into place, and face push us in bed. He would rattle the bedroom door on Saturday mornings to be let in, and try to jump on our back while using the restroom so he could be closer to our heart. If you think you don’t like cats, we can promise you — you’ve never known a cat like Moby.
We adored our feline son and all his quirks, and our home is missing its core spirit in his absence. So we are being forced to look death in the eye. Conversely, the fleetingness of life comes to mind. Our lives — all living things’ lives — are fragile.
If it’s this worrisome to see your beloved pet go through pain and premature death, we can only imagine the pain of leaving a beloved friend, parent, or spouse. It’s all a little terrifying and makes you look twice at who is currently in your life. Especially those that are living by some miracle of the universe. But then again, aren’t we all?
A flashback to that terrible last night
After 6 days in the kitty hospital, we were thrilled the vet would let Moby come home that night. We thought, “finally, we’ll be back to normal.” But just hours after getting home, re-introducing Moby to his favorite cozy spots, and showering him with affections, it became agonizingly clear this wasn’t enough to save him. We only had the chance to use his feeding tube once.
Moby’s breathing worsened — fast, irregular, almost a pant. It was laborious and heavy, forcing him to stretch out like a beached whale to expand his lungs. His discomfort was so immense, he now refused our laps. With every veterinary facility closed and no help in rural NW Ohio, we were utterly alone with our dying best friend. We helplessly watched him writhe in pain and heard his little cries for help with nothing we could do besides try to comfort him. Around 1:30 am on May 29, he stopped breathing — we tried performing CPR on his little body but it was no use. It was the worst, most traumatic death either of us had ever experienced up close and personal in our adult lives. Seeing, and hearing, his final moment — and the panic and disbelief that followed — were eye-opening.
Not allowing anyone to make us feel guilty
We were suddenly in a daze, unable to function or process what we just watched. We took the next day off work to spend time crying, grieving, and caring for his remains. The best advice we received was not to let anyone make us feel guilty for our way of mourning. So we didn’t.
We decided to have him cremated and preserved in a piece of art we can cherish forever.
The aftermath: the question “Why”?
We are both very distraught over this unexpected loss and how quickly Moby’s condition progressed. We thought taking your cat to the hospital for a week meant he was getting better… but sometimes life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes life gives the middle finger to logic. But we wanted an answer as to why he didn’t get better — to know what we could have done differently.
It’s especially painful because he was such a sweet, special animal with a unique, affectionate personality. Not to mention he was just 6 years young and had no prior health issues. We know all pet owners say their pet was the best, but it’s because we all, deep down to our core, believe it.
He was supposed to be “our cat son that met our real son.” We’re sad knowing that day will never come. We will never get to look back on pictures of Moby with our grown children and ask: “Do you remember Moby?”
Moby had spent 6 days in the hospital with an IV and eventually a feeding tube. The vet said he wasn’t responding well to the treatment. Although all his tests looked good, he couldn’t find out why Moby wasn’t getting better. He had done all he could; it was Moby who had nothing more to give.
So in his last hours, we are happy we were able to be by his side. Sometimes that is all you have to give. We cherish the fact that in his 6 years of living, he only had one bad week. A few painful days among a full, happy life is all any of us can really ask for.
What DOES bring us peace
The thought that brings us peace when we get caught up in the “what could I have done differently scenario” is this. Our pets have a pre-determined return date. They are simply on loan to us, and we must give them back when their time is up. Their parts only have a limited number of years to run; they are such a special model that no mechanic or doctor can fix them. It simply IS what it is. And we are working on accepting that, while realizing that our lives as humans aren’t really so different — each day is a gift to be cherished and appreciated as if it were the last.
We are choosing to remember the happy memories fondly, and avoid placing blame anywhere. Blame won’t change anything. It won’t help. As Mark Twain said:
“Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.”
Not taking a single day for granted
Above all, losing Moby has highlighted something terrifying — the reality of the fleetingness of life. Although we still love Moby very much, we remind ourselves he is only an animal. Not a human, not a childhood friend, not a parent or sibling or family member. Whoever you look up to, whether Jesus, the Buddha, or the stoics like Marcus Aurelius, they would want us to see this as a lesson to appreciate life and those you love — to not take a single day for granted, because eventually one day will become the last day.
We’re at peace with the care and love we gave to Moby. Plain and simple, these things are out of our control.
It’s a part of being human we often forget: how utterly helpless we are in the face of the universe’s craftsmanship. It’s a good reminder to love everyday, to cherish the small things, and to not leave kind words unsaid and good deeds undone. Because we really only do have this moment NOW.
Choosing to believe all things can have a purpose
We are not fortune tellers, nor do we try to predict the future. But we do purposely choose to believe all things can teach us something, shape us into better individuals, or even serve as a new chapter marker if we choose. This terrible tragedy has been all of those and so much more. Because we choose to make his life and death important. We choose to make it change the way we live going forward, and how deeply we will allow ourselves to love — and show that love externally.
If this was a lesson in coping with loss now so we are better equipped for the next occasion, then so be it. We will accept that graciously. We will take it as a bright red flashing warning sign as we move through each year. Remember how much that hurt, and remember to never stop loving so you have no regrets.
As author Elizabeth Gilbert said:
“It’s an honor to Be in grief. It’s an honor to feel that much, to have loved that much.”
We are grateful for our story and all the events that unfold to make it the wonderfully complex and sometimes painful life it is.
As Sam’s favorite quote by the former educator Randy Pausch (author of the tearjerker, life lesson book, The Last Lecture) goes:
“We cannot change the cards we are dealt — just how we play the hand.”
Starting anew
The joy of Moby’s life with us came from a random trip to the shelter one day. As we wept over his dead body, an orange cat came to the back door. He sat there staring at us through the glass. It was a sign to us that God, the universe (and Moby) wants us to love again. His purr spirit will live on.
We have faith we can start anew with a kitten someday soon. We don’t want to live with Moby’s ghost occupying every nook of our lives as a constant reminder of his absence. Another cat will never replace Moby and the ways we loved him. However, a new feline presence will bring more love and appreciation in ways unknown to us now.
If we take time to build a bond with another, and pour ourselves out yet again, how can it not be magical? How can it not be worthwhile?
Love isn’t finite — it multiplies. Our love for Moby has only multiplied the appreciation we have for our lives and those in it.
Thank you to everyone who has been there for us after the loss of our beloved cat. Your kindness means more than you know. ♥️
If you’ve lost a pet, how did you make it through? Do you have any perspectives that helped you?
Please tell us about your friend you lost. This is a place where we will remember all our lost companions fondly. Together, we can honor their memories and help one another heal.
Thank you for sharing this story. The EXACT same thing happened to my sweet boy Arnie just over a week ago. I am devastated. I keep going over everything I could have done differently in my mind and blaming myself. You made some similar and some different choices than mine and the outcome was the same. I take some comfort in knowing that I am not the only one to have gone through this heartbreaking experience. Thank you.
Kassy, we are so sorry for your loss. We feel your pain; the number of people who have reached out and commented on this that the same thing happened to them has been astounding and eye-opening. Hepatic Lipidosis is one of the worst ones… it’s shocking and comes seemingly out of nowhere. It’s forced us to become much more educated cat owners. Luke and I hope your heart is at ease with what happened, and Arnie inspired you to love even more. I know Moby opened our hearts to love more – we now have 5 indoor cats and several outside ones we care for. Sending prayers for your pain!
Hugs – Luke & Samantha
Thank you so much for writing this blog post. I found it on day 3 of living without my cat Rocky… which doesn’t feel a lot like living. Similar to Moby, she was the absolute best and joy of my life. She was 13 but had had a flawless wellness check just 3 weeks prior. I went out of town and came back to a very sick kitty – we went straight to the emergency vet and a day and a half later, she was gone. Everything you describe is exactly what I feel. Thank you – I am so sorry for what you experienced bc I would wish this pain on no one. And I’m grateful not to carry the pain alone.
Kate, thanks for reading and for reaching out. Luke and I are both happy you found our post and that it helped you know you aren’t alone in your loss. We can tell you from experience that it does get easier with time; you never forget your furry friend, but we have learned we have more room in our hearts for new loves and more “purrs.” We might be going a little crazy… we have 5 indoor cats now and several outside we care for. <3 Just like Moby inspired us to love more, we're sure Rocky will inspire you to love more, too! Hugs - Luke & Samantha
Hi,
I just read your article about your beautiful cat Moby. As I sit here, with tears in my eyes, my Tuxedo cat Kita is by my side and he too has Hepatic Lipidosis. It’s incredible to me how he could have normal liver enzymes in September and now, November 12, he has only days to live. I am totally on the fence as to whether I should try tube feeding as I feel his quality of life would go downhill, but I feel like if I don’t try it I’ll never know whether he would have gotten better. The cost is another factor. I’ve been told he needs an ultrasound that would cost $3200 and then whatever care he gets for the 6-7 weeks he would be tube fed would be added on to that. I fnd myself in a horrible position and time is of the essence. He’s very frail and I’m not sure he could endure all that this treatment would entail. I am at a loss as to which direction to go in. I was just wondering if you may have any words of adivce on my situation since you’ve gone through this nightmare as well.
Thanks, Sue LaBonte
Sue, we apologize for not seeing this in time. We can empathize with your situation and our hearts break for you and Kita. Can we ask what happened? It’s terrible to see their quality of life decline and not have any control over anything. Hepatic Lipidosis is one of the worst ones… it’s shocking and comes seemingly out of nowhere. It’s forced us to become much more educated cat owners. Luke and I hope your heart is at ease with what happened, and Kita inspired you to love even more. I know Moby opened our hearts to love more – we now have 5 indoor cats and several outside ones we care for. Sending prayers for your pain!
Hugs – Luke & Samantha