On a sunny May afternoon, with the windows open and the finches singing and the branches of the old oak tree slowly swaying in the breeze outside, my husband and I sat beside each other on our living room couch, with Tabs, our beloved cat of 12 years, between us. I cradled him in my arms with his head draped over my right shoulder (always the right, never the left), while El Hub held his paws.
For most of the creatures in the world, that afternoon was business as usual, but for us, time slowed as we said our final goodbyes and thank yous to our furry friend.
As it sometimes does, the cancer won.
I’ve experienced the loss of pets before, but never like this. Tabs was my constant companion and sounding board throughout the entire decade of my thirties, and with him by my side, I crossed major adult milestones — marriage, moving into our first home, exciting career changes, family emergencies, serious illnesses, pregnancy, child birth. He saw me at my best and my worst, and through it all, he was there with head boops, whisker kisses and brute force lap snuggles (did I mention he was 18 pounds?). His love was fierce yet sweet, and he will always be my big kitty love.
But this post isn’t about Tabs (well, not entirely). It’s about grief and how it changes us.
A thread that binds us all
I think that most people understand that grief is very personal, and that no two people grieve in the exact same way. There is one thing, though, that binds us all together, and of all the lessons I’ve learned from my cat’s passing, this reminder was the most sobering: Everyone we love will eventually die.
It’s a harsh reality. Even though I understood this truth deep down inside, I think I wrapped myself in a cozy blanket of denial.
This was partly because I’ve been lucky to have lived almost 44 years on this earth without having to survive the loss of a close loved one. Losing Tabs was my first real grown-up experience with death, and MAN — it was a vortex of raw, visceral emotion.
The bittersweet juxtaposition
There are many moments of happy sadness — both at the same time. After we’d gotten the news of his terminal diagnosis and Tabs came home from the vet, we were given a time frame of three to six weeks.
That’s how much time we thought we’d have with him, but it only turned out to be two… They were peppered with so many joyous moments, but each one was tinged with the pain of knowing he’d be gone soon.
During our last few days with him, I tried to brace myself for what was to come. I watched Ted talks on grief, listened to podcasts on dying, read articles and talked to friends, hoping to prepare myself for the inevitable, but…
You’ll never be the same again
Nothing prepared me for the fissure I felt when his breath slowed down and his heart finally stopped. The moment I could no longer feel the fluttery beat inside his chest, my heart cracked.
In that split second, I knew: I would never be the same person again. I would carry a small scar on my heart for the rest of my life.
Yet, swirling in a sea of sadness, I also felt joy, hope and relief. Happy that he was no longer in the pain I didn’t think he was in at the time, but now think he may have been. Full of hope that I’d see him again.
Before he left, I whispered into his ear that he didn’t have to be scared or worried because he wouldn’t be alone, and we would see him again.
Seeing everything through a different filter
I think I have. This will seem silly to some people, but since Tabs passed, I swear, he’s sent me signs. I feel his soul with me when the leaves in the oak trees that dot his favorite hill suddenly stand still on a windy day, or when a single beam of sunlight dances on a hot pink patch of flowers, or when I look outside my office window in the morning and see the sunrise filtering through the moss on the tree trunks, or in the purplish pink hues on the horizon at sunset.
I see the world differently now and notice more of the small things I would’ve missed before. All of us are surrounded by small, beautiful moments all day long, and all we have to do is look for them…
A basic lesson of life, but I didn’t really grasp it before. They were just nice words, but now I understand what it means to appreciate the little things, and I have my cat to thank for that.
I miss the mundane things the most
None of it has stopped me from missing him like crazy, though, and the funny thing is… The things I miss the most about him are things that drove me nuts while he was here. I miss him walking across the top of my pillow at night (ah, paws in my hair!). I miss him running into the kitchen to beg for food whenever he heard a can open. I miss seeing him dive onto a fresh pile of clean laundry…
For whatever it’s worth, I think love resides in the tiny spaces. Many movies and books tie love to big life events and grand gestures, but they’ve got it wrong IMO. Love is the everyday rituals. So cherish them.
Have courage
To add insult to injury, grief will leave you feeling like total crap on a stick, and then it will require that you be courageous. It will not ask this of you politely, either. It will straight-up demand it.
I realized this on that same May afternoon, the one when we said goodbye to our Tabs. Right after the veterinarian tenderly wrapped his tiny, lifeless body in a blanket and carried him out of our house one last time, my husband and I had to pick up our daughter from preschool. We got in the car, both stunned and still in shock, and as we drove into the school parking lot, we could hear the kids laughing and playing.
That joyful singsong sound reminded us that the world was still turning. Life was still happening. Yes, we were heartbroken, but someone still had to make dinner, get children ready for bed, pay the bills that were due.
It’s a courage borne of necessity.
And so, every morning, I get up, I make my bed, wash my face, drink a vat of coffee, sit down at the keyboard, and I keep on keepin’ on. Even though it seems extremely unfair that the sun continues to rise and set, and the birds keep singing, all while someone carries a hole in their heart, life marches onward.
Lastly, to my beautiful kitty baby, thank you again. Thank you for being so selfless and giving. I miss you, your ear tufts, your low-hanging belly, and your ability to wake me up to feed you at the most obscene times in the morning. I miss your big and caring heart. Thank you for teaching me these lessons of life and love. You will forever be cherished.
Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,
Karen
What a beautiful tribute to Tabs and life. A big HUG to you, El Hub and Connor (and a spirit hug for Tabs!!). Grief is that way…you have a huge hole in your heart. It’ll eventually patch over, but the scar will always still be there. Those signs Tabs is sending isn’t silly at all. Much love to you!!
Thank you, Audrey. I find him around me all the time. Saw him last night in a patch of moonlight that beamed through the window on his favorite spot of the couch. It’s comforting.
Much love back to you!
I’m so sorry for your loss. My cat (Fireball) is 16 years old and his health is not good. We are in our last days with him. Thanks for sharing your special Tabs with us. Your posts have sort of prepared me to say goodbye.
I saw the heading and I knew without reading it that Tabs was gone. I waited a whole week to read this post…I cried for Tabs, and for you and your family. It will be 4 years that my fiancé s cat Puty passed away due to colon cancer. I miss her everyday. I think of her everyday. The good and the bad, especially our nap times together. She sends signs all the time …like when her picture pops up on my iPhone without me touching it. Loss is loss. Doesn’t matter if it was a human or an animal. She was my baby. I am so sorry for your loss. I’m sure that the life Tabs had with you was wondrous and I am so grateful to have known him if only through your posts…my prayers to you and your family.
Karen, what a lovely and moving piece of prose and the highest tribute to Tabs. I find myself in tears once again, and it’s OK. In this world of virtuality and internet, it’s hard to understand how we become so involved in each other’s lives, but with wonderful friends like you we are drawn . . . simply and amazingly. I hope you find it in your heart, as did I mine many times over, to succor a new fur friend. There will never be another as dear as Tabs, I’m sure, but a new and loving relationship will most assuredly develop.
And I hope you continue, as you grieve and beyond, to include Tabs’ photos . . .
All the very best to you, Hubs, and CC –
Leigh
❤️?❤️
Hi, Leigh. Thank you so much for being supportive and so, so kind. I appreciate you checking in and dropping me those sweet, funny emails. Hugs to you!
This was beautiful. I’m a sobbing mess, but it’s worth it. You know how deeply he was loved by how deeply you’re grieving. I lost my beloved pug in October, I still can’t talk about it. It guts you. But like you said, the world keeps spinning. ❤️
I’m sorry for your loss, Stephanie. It’s unfair that they leave us so soon. Sending you a big hug.
Dear Karen,
I can feel the love and lost in your beautiful tribute to Tabs.
When I was in my early twenties, I lost my 18 year old cousin when he drowned a weekend before graduating high school. Recently, I was chatting with my aunt about losing her son (my cousin), and she told me that the pain of the loss never abates. It resides permanently in her heart, but how she understood and managed the pain has evolved through the years. In the beginning, the pain was bitter and sharp, barely manageable, but over the years the pain of losing him became a companion reminding her of the time he was on Earth with her. It acts as a tether to heaven or spirit world. She knows that they will meet again and it brings her peace.
Love,
Max, a long time MBB reader and supporter
Thank you, Max, for sharing the story of your cousin and aunt with me. May he rest in peace. I never thought of the signs being a tether but now I’ll always have that in my heart. Sending you lots of love.
I love everything about this post (except that Tabs is gone). You’ve captured it beautifully and I think that all your points are 100% relatable to anyone who’s suffered loss.
The signs are such a huge comfort. We’re all convinced that my friend’s infant who passed away earlier this year is sending us dimes. We’ll randomly find them in places and always take a picture and send it to my friend. She is very comforted to think that, in a physical way, he’s still with us. There are lots of other little signs that we all feel are messages from him. It keeps everyone talking about him and trying to remember the happy moments more often than the sadness. I think it’s great that you’re doing that with Tabs as well. So often friends and family are afraid to talk about a loved one that’s passed because they feel it makes the grieving person sadder. I don’t find that to be true. I think it’s actually almost exactly the opposite. Lots of hugs and love to all of you. <3
Beautiful tribute to Tabs. Many hugs to you and your family!
Karen, what you wrote is spot on. I’ve lost my parents, grandparents, and several pets and yes – love is in the small spaces and small things, and those are the memories that pop up the most and will keep you going. In the immediate aftermath, you absolutely can’t believe that life goes on as if nothing happened when it seems like everything has happened and that nothing can be the same again. And that is a blessing in its own way too – that we are forced to look after our kids, pay the bills, get up daily and do the do. It feels jarring at first but it’s very healing as time goes on. It’s the process of learning to live without someone’s presence the way you unconsciously learned to live with them. Enjoy the positive memories – that is how Tabs will always be with you. Sending all my condolences.
May his memory always be a blessing.
Karen,
By heart goes out to you. I lost two of my cats to cancer on the same day last summer. The hardest part was watching our third cat roaming the house looking for his brothers. I still miss them deeply. We don’t have kids so they were my little fur children. Like you, they were with me for over a decade and through so many life changes. Stay Strong!
I have tears in my reading this post. Everything you wrote is what I have experienced after losing Mingus and Ella. Thank you for stating it so thoughtfully and eloquently. As an adult, I too have not lost anyone close to me.
Maybe it’s strange to say this, but part of me is relieved I’ve experienced it. It was heartbreaking and awful, but at the same time I know what to expect when it happens again. I know that I can survive and move on and live with my grief. And I know that I can look and pictures and videos and smile at the good memories.
Thanks for sharing your heart.
Dear Karen,
I am so sorry about the loss of Tabs, sending you lot’s of Love to you and your family in this difficult time! Your post brought me 8 years ago when I lost my beloved cat. He would be also 12 now, but kidney issues brought him to rainbow path quickly…
To be honest, I have never ever experienced so long grief. For 6 Months, I simply could not speak about my lost friend. And it took me years to stop crying about this loss. However… yes, I’ve never completely dealt with it. I’ve experienced before several deaths within family and my friends during teenage years, but this kind of saddness I have never experienced in my entire life.
I think you will understand me saying that sometimes our friends arrives to us from Cosmos! They may look like pets, but their perception of us, interaction and affection to us reaches far beyond any human actually have ever had. They know when you need a hug, know what you think, know when you’re happy and know when to beg you an additional dish of meal… When my cat drank his water from a regular cofee mug, ignoring any pet plates, I was thinking – is it him who has not yet realized that he is not a human, or just me who has not yet understood that he is something more than a human??
Yes, life goes on, earth continues to turn around, but still – there is still the sense of emptiness…
I love reading how much you love Tabs. 😉 Same here, though, never had to experience losing a close, loved one. I’m sure the emotional landscape on which you find yourself is beautiful and heart-wrenching and everything in between. Thank you for describing it to us (online ohana) and bringing us with you.
I loved seeing Tabs’ collar and I read a beautiful idea on Instagram to wrap the pet’s water/food dish with the collar and put a plant inside to commemorate He Who Has Crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
I hope Connor Claire and El Hubs are also doing well through this, too.
So beautiful, so touching, and that shadow picture is an absolute work of art. Such a loving, heartfelt tribute to the love you shared. . .
Thank you for such a beautiful post (as I sit here crying at work). I felt every moment of your grief…but do know that this will pass – and just as with your previous fuzzy children, you’ll know when he is around you. Embrace your grief and don’t hold back. This was a heartfelt and loving tribute, which I’m sure Tabs could feel your love throughout his entire life with you. Thank you for expressing so eloquently what most of us wish we could.
Karen,
My heart goes out to you. I lost two of my cats to cancer on the same day last summer. The worst part was watching our third cat roaming the house looking for his brothers. We don’t have children, so they were my fur kids. Like you, they had been with me for well over a decade and through so many life changes. Stay Strong!
Beautifully said Karen.
In a way, I think it is harder to have lived well into adulthood never having lost a close loved one. Once you have, you can comfort yourself in the knowledge that although you will never “get over it” you will learn to live with it and there will be many happy time again. Hugs to you.
I am so sorry for your loss of Tabs! I have lost many furbabies and it feels like such a gaping hole! I do recommend getting another pet, not to replace Tabs, because they couldn’t, but to give a place for all the love you have to give! I say this with love and experience! I certainly have enjoyed all of your posts about Tabs, what a wonderful cat he was! Thanks for sharing him with us!
I had no idea he was 18 pounds! He looked svelte enough to be a Chanel sample size.
He IS still with you and definitely sending you signs. And even as a devout agnostic, I firmly believe you’ll see each other again, my friend. What a great life he had with you and your family!
Love this. My heart goes out to you and your family. Know that Tabs will also be missed by all of us readers.
Beautiful post Karen. So precise and eloquent. Tears are running down my face and I’m at work hoping no one sees me. I experienced this type of loss when my dog from childhood passed away. Your words perfectly capture the pain I went through. Thank you for sharing this with us.
?????❤️
I realize the last thing you need right now is someone giving you advice. But girl you got to write a book. You are a damn good writer. A book full of essays about makeup and kitty love would be amazing.
Sending you hugs and a virtual vat full of your favorite coffee. ☕☕☕☕
I second this motion. When you’re ready, Karen!
What a beautiful and heartfelt tribute to your very special Tabs! Although parting with loved ones is inexplicably painful and sad, it is an experience that ultimately strengthens and deepens the love we shared because, in transitioning from the physical world, they become a part of our mind, heart, and spirit. Karen, I whole heartedly believe that Tabs has sent you messages so that you know he is no longer in pain, that he is in a better place, and that he will be there for you when your time comes. God bless.
Karen, I think this in one of the most beautiful things I have ever read. You are absolutely right, our furbabies teach us so many things, and most of all I think they help us to cherish life and how fleeting it is. Ever since I found out about Tabs, I have held my own cats, Sassy & Mr. Snuggles, a little closer. I try not to get upset when they wake my husband and I up at crack of dawn to be fed, or one of them gets sick on the carpet, because I know one day they won’t be here, and once again, I will go through what you are going through now. Your writing and pictures are so touching and lovely. I love what you said about love residing in the tiny spaces. I am going to try to hold on to that. I hope things start to get easier for you after these hard past few weeks. Thank you for sharing your experience with all of us, and once again, for sharing Tabs with us for all these years. You have my deepest sympathy. Much Love
Karen, thank you so much for this beautifully written post. I’ve enjoyed reading your blog for a few years now, and I’m so sorry for your loss and so sad that Tabs has left this earth. Like you, I’m in my forties and haven’t experienced the loss of a very close loved one. My sweet Chihuahua, who has been with us for eight years, is now very ill and the outlook is very bleak. Part of me hopes for a miracle while another part of me doesn’t want to see him suffer anymore. Reading your recent posts about Tabs and about dealing with grief has really comforted me during this very difficult time. Sending you lots of love, prayers, and virtual hugs.
-Joy
Karen, sending you hugs…hope Connor Claire and Hubs are doing ok. Such a heartfelt way to honor Tabs. Your writing is from the soul! I relate to every word you beautifully wrote. The mundane, my routine with my boy, who was by my side for 16 years is what I miss the most too. I did feel my dog jump on the bed a few weeks after he passed, i wasnt looking for signs but i know it was him! All pet loss is anguishing, but there’s something a bit extra heart wrenching when you raise them as an adult and you’re working from home with them 24/7. Seperation anxiety is real. I try to shake up my routine, walking different routes etc. Love remains always, it is in the tiny spaces, yes! And what a gift among grief to be reminded of Tabs and your bond in these moments. Wishing you comfort in this ?
You guided Tabs through all the life stages with so much love, joy with each days patrol assignments, I wish all pets had that. He is your soulmate, your boy. He is saying job well done Mom&sending you love from above xoxo Diana
Dear Karen,
Love your words and my tears are running down my cheeks. I lost a friend when I was 18- this is 20 years ago now. After all tears now I think of him every now and then. I Talk to hin about my Kids. And get answers. So yes, i think even If Loved ones are dead, they are still with us. And to me this is very comforting. In some ways I felt like a Part of me died, when He died. That is the price . But that is Life and WE can grow with IT. We have the choice to feel IT. The sadness and the Joy.
And Connor… Simply for our Kids we have to Clean Up, make Dinner, eat healthily, laugh with them. And keep on. IT helps through those Times.
When I Read that Tabs is ill, i thought this will BE the end of an era- in some Terms. Because He accompanied you for so Long and different stages in Life. He will Always be with you.
I find comfort in the thought that when I die, i will meet my friend again. I don’t have to worry.
And Yess, write that book Karen! Will buy it and Love IT!
Thanks for Sharing. Big hugs!
Your words have touched me deeply, Karen. I wish I was at home instead of at work so I can bawl the way I want to for you and Tabs and all the grief this post so eloquently puts on paper. Lots of love to you, Tabs and your family.
No words! I have been reading your blog for over 8years now and we just lost my husband’s grandmom! Now we know they are at peace and no longer in pain!
Much love and strength to you and us all ?
This is some of the best stuff you’ve ever written. Condolences once again, and continued good thoughts to you.
If you don’t mind saying, how did you guys break the news to Connor? How did she take it?
What a beautiful and deeply touching post Karen. I love that you are seeing signs from Tabs. Someday when you are ready, Tabs will send you a kitty to love. I’ve lost a few cats over the years, but it always seems that when I’m ready a cat needing a home and love always shows up unexpectedly. Hugs to you and your family.
Love and light
When my mother passed away, my pastor said something really wise to me. He told me that as awful as grief is, it’s also beautiful. It teaches us about the meaning and importance of our connection with the one we’ve lost, and the true significance of God’s promise that we will be reunited in Heaven. It also shows the depth of our love. Only where there has been great love can there be grief, and as awful as grief is, how much worse would it be if our lost ones were not mourned and missed?
These words have stayed with me. I hope they bring you some comfort as well.
Be kind to yourself as you go through this, and know that your friends are holding you in our hearts.
Cats are awesome and it sounds like you had one of the best of them in Tabs. I will miss your posts about him and your beautiful pictures. I hope that your happy memories of him help you through this sad time. And I believe you are right, you will see each other again! Best wishes to you and your family.
Karen, I am so sorry for your loss! I am sending hugs to you and your family! Xoxo
Been waiting to see how you’re doing all week…losing a pet is HARD. My husband thought I was nuts about 10+ years ago after we adopted a kitten that was only a few weeks old. We’d gone to get groceries and a lady in front of the store was asking if anyone wanted to take a kitten home and when I saw that perfect little white fur-ball with a little black dot on his nose, I knew we had to take Booger home 🙂 Then, after maybe two months, we can home one day and he was stretched out pretty lifeless on my pillow. The vet did some tests and thought that it was a really good sign that he made it through the night but he only lasted a few days. I cried so hard for at least 3 days non stop. I was maybe 24 and it just seemed like he never even got a chance at life. I think my husband told me he’d passed when I was at work bc he knew I couldn’t have a total meltdown there. I have an almost 13 year old Blue Russian kitty right now that you’ve reminded me to cherish every day and I thank you for that! I hope you’re feeling a little better each day.
Oh Karen, this was so beautifully well written. You had me crying the entire time. Thank you for taking the time to truly express your feelings. Tabs was so loved. What you wrote reminded me of a quote I like… “It has been said “time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But, it is never gone.” It’s by Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy. Thank you again for this beautiful post. I hope you feel a bit better each day ❤️?
I sobbed reading this. I’ve never left a comment even though I’ve read and loved your blog for a long time. I am so sorry that you and your family are having to grieve. I’m going to miss Sundays with Tabs. I am thinking of you and yours.
Oh Karen, I am so sorry for your loss. I love Tabs and very much looked forward to all your blogs on him!!! I also lost the feline love of my life, Jaspurr Floyd in September 2013. Unfortunately, he had cancer and passed away at age nine. I have found that honouring his memory and sharing his love with others has helped a lot for myself & my husband. I am sending positive healing vibes and would like to reassure you that it does slowly get easier. The love that you have for Tabs will be with you for always…
After losing my Aunt when I was 12 my Mom told me when I had dreams about her that it was a visit from Heaven. I truly believe that and my dreams of her bring me great comfort to this day.
Oh Karen – such a beautiful post, moving me to tears.
I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve never had any pets and sometimes find it hard to relate to this kind of love, but you describe it in such a profound beautiful way it makes it obvious and relatable. He was indeed a companion and a friend. Thank you for the inspiration.
I am so sorry for the loss of Tabs. I’ve read this blog for so many years I feel like he was one of my real-life friend’s pets that I love as much as my own. I have two dogs I adore so I know there are no words to ease your heartache. Tabs brought fun and joy to many people and he will be missed.
Grief never completely goes away, and that is good. As long as we remember, they are still alive inside us.
Oh Karen – longtime reader here, I have always wanted to comment due to our commonalities (also a 40something Fil-Am beauty nut mom of a young child) but this is my first time (plus my office has some ‘puter limits in place). I am so sorry for your loss but so very moved that you are distilling such richness and beauty from this in the midst of your sorrow. I love how you see signs of Tabs in the loveliness around you. I became a widow in 2013 when my son was 2 and I wanted to recommend the book “The Invisible String” by Patrice Karst; out of all the loss books I/we read, that was the 2nd best at helping us the most, plus it was a beautiful read with my young son that applied to many losses. I think you and Connor might really enjoy that. (The BEST book that helped us was Todd Parr’s “Family Book”; while that doesn’t apply as much to your situation, it’s an incredible book that’s wonderful to read with a child; you might want to check out his “Goodbye Book,” it’s lovely and poignant.)
One of my widow friends (who was as a few yrs “ahead” of me in her loss) once said something that resonated amazingly with me. She said, if you take away the sadness and negativity, what we are going through is one of the richest life experiences one can go through. And I loved how she summed up what I was feeling and couldn’t put into words. We wouldn’t grieve as hard if we hadn’t loved so hard. It is almost cinematic how mourning is another facet, another extension, of love and life.
No doubt Tabs lived surrounded by your love as you were by his. I enjoy how you captured his beautiful life with you in this blog! Grateful you all had one another.
xoxox
I’m very sorry for your loss, Sharon. Thank you for stopping by today and for the book recommendations. I’ll check them out. ❤️
Hi Karen, I’m deeply sorry for your loss. Tabs is our loss as well. We, your readers, grew up with him as he made his first appearance on the blog as the neighborhood stray and then you adopted him (or did he adopt you?). His influence and inspurrration on the blog and Connor Claire are obvious—talk about a mewse—but this post really paints the picture of all the tiny moments that enriched your life and lifted your heart during your time together. We <3 Tabs and hope he is enjoying tuna and cuddles in heaven.
Karen,
This post was one of your best ever. Unfortunately, I know the feeling of loss of close loved ones–human, animal–it is the same.
Pope Francis said our animals go to Heaven too. I hope you can take some comfort in this. I’m looking at Rose sleeping nearby in a chair as I type this. She is 15 now and I thank God for every day I still have with her.
TAbs is definitely sending you signs–there is zero doubt about that.
Sending you love from New Jersey,
Anne Marie and Rose. xoxo
Take care of your precious Rosie, Annemarie. ❤️?
I’m so sorry for your loss! Tabs was such a big part of your blog and I loved seeing him pop up all the time. You have him a good life! I just had to say good bye to my big fat fluffy cat scrabble was was 13 and also taken by cancer. It was really fricking hard and I miss him so much. He was the best kitty and I miss the little things too. Grief rocks you, it’s rough and unpredictable and scary. I’ve learned a lot about grief since my mother passed away three years ago. Time makes grief easier to carry but the wholes in our hearts are still the same. I also believe in signs and it’s a way for us to be connected to our favorite souls that have left earth. Sending you healing hugs.
I’ve only just read this, while catching up on my reading, and it left me in tears. Tabs has always been a part of MBB, always associated your blog with the beautiful pictures you captured of him. Thank you for sharing your feelings and here’s sending you lots of hugs.
Oh my god, Karen, I am so sorry. I read your blog often but never comment, but your tribute to Tabs really struck me hard. I’m a cat mom like you, and I’ve lost pieces of my heart over the years. Thank you cancer, thank you shitty drivers… I know that horrible pain. I’m just so sorry.
So sorry about Tabs. He was such a great constant in your life and for our reading pleasure. My best friend since I was six died of an accidental drug overdose in April 2018. I didn’t even know she was taking drugs, she had yet to still meet my son. Sometimes when I am enjoying a great piece of art and coffee (she was an artist) I am smiling from joy to remember her. Other times when I something little reminds me of her, I out of the blue start sobbing. There is no sense to this except that it is true heartache and you will never ever be quite the same. I am so sorry for your loss dear sweet Karen.
Tabs will be missed, sorry for your loss. Keep your chin up and cherish your memories. You have so many to look back on! Cry it out when you need to. And maybe one day get a cute new furbaby assistant to love on you again!
Dear Karen,
I’ve been following your blog for so many years now and I vividly remember you sharing the story of how you met Tabs – it was pure destiny that he came into your life! As you describe in this post, he constantly accompanied you through good and bad times. Isn’t that so precious and beautiful?!
I’m sorry for your loss! And I do believe that he’s sending you signs from cat heaven!