I saw a comment on my “Grief is Not a Season” on Too Damn Young from an 11-year-old girl named Cliona who had recently lost her dog, Peppy. Cliona said that I might be thinking “it’s just a stupid dog and she’ll get over it.” I wasn’t thinking that at all.
We got my cat, Mingus, the summer after my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Mingus was fantastic cat with goofy, curly whiskers and a sweet, loving disposition.
Mingus had unique and different behaviors with all of us. With mom, he would make her brush him on the floor in front of the TV every morning. My brother would play with him behind the bathroom door. He let me hold him upside down like a baby.
But really, Mingus was my dad’s cat. He purred every time Dad touched him. He flopped at Dad’s feet and rolled over completely on his back to have him rub his belly. They cuddled together on the couch. Mingus would run to greet my dad at the door every time Dad came home from work. When Dad wasn’t home, it was almost like Mingus could tell.
After my dad died, Mingus’ health started to decline too. He would get sick every few months, but after a vet visit and some medication he would always bounce back to his normal self. November of last year, however, his body had just taken too much; it would have involved drastic surgery to save him. It was obvious that Mingus was suffering and in the end we had to put him to sleep.
Mingus was so connected to my dad that I was completely heartbroken when we lost him.
It was like Mingus was the last piece of Dad that was alive in my house, and without him I had nothing left.
For my family, we worried that by introducing Mingus into our home while my dad was sick had contributed to Mingus’ own personal stress and decline in health. Of course there is no way to know that for sure, but the guilt was there all the same.
The few months that were spent in a cat-less house were completely miserable. There was no way to replace Mingus, and I still adore him to this day, but I couldn’t stand not having that heartbeat in the house.
We ended up getting a new kitty, Smudge. He is absolutely nothing like Mingus, but I wouldn’t want him to be. Smudge has his own quirky traits and games that he plays with us and we love him to pieces. I don’t know how I would be emotionally if I didn’t have my Smudgey in my life. He fills the void that Mingus left behind without replacing him in any way. I still miss Mingus and will always love him.
One thing that Cliona said is that she would “never get over” her loss. I don’t think we ever “get over” the loss of anyone, including animals, and getting over it shouldn’t be the goal. The people and animals in our life will always mean something to us, and they can’t be forgotten. We shouldn’t try to forget them.
But continuing on with your life, letting new things in, and getting through our losses is necessary.
So Cliona, miss your dog. Mourn and grieve her. Don’t ever forget her. But don’t let your grief overtake your life because it is okay to move forward and to let new things in.
Jordan has lost her father, grandfather, mentor and friend in the past five years. Dealing with sequential losses has been difficult, but her faith in God and an abundance of conversations over coffee have helped her push through. She has always considered herself a writer, and she currently studies English and Journalism at Northern Illinois University. In her spare time she enjoys serving at her church, wedding planning and cuddling with her cat.