Farewell, My Friend

How do you say goodbye to someone who is so much a part of you? My heart was broken into a million pieces today as we said goodbye to our beloved cat Cooper.

From the moment we adopted him in July 2003 he changed our lives forever. I couldn’t love him more than if I’d given birth to him myself. He was my first baby, and my only boy.

We gave him a wonderful life and loving home, but he gave us so much more. He was our constant companion and best friend. He was the most affectionate cat, full of unconditional love. He was always waiting by the door for me whenever I got home, ready for snuggle time. This sweet little soul has slept next to me almost every night for over 10 years. His absence will be felt everywhere and in everything we do. I don’t quite know what I’m going to do without him.

I’m incredibly thankful for all the years we had with him. He had acute kidney failure starting in late October 2006 and we came so close to losing him back then. But he pulled through against incredible odds, earning himself the nickname Super Cooper. There’s no doubt in my mind his recovery was a miracle, and God blessed us with over seven more years together.

During that time the girls came along and I’m so thankful they got to know him, if only for a little while.

As much as we didn’t want to believe it, we knew our time with him was coming to a close, and we did everything we could to make his last days as comfortable as possible. He enjoyed a long nap in front of the fire Friday night, and lots of time in the backyard on Saturday when the weather warmed up just a bit. He stayed surprisingly warm in a little ray of sunshine that came down and baked on him under his favorite tree. He even felt well enough to give that tree a good scratch a couple times. Saturday night Cooper, Robbie & I snuggled on his favorite red fleece blanket, followed by more outside time on Sunday. And in our final moments together Monday morning, we took him outside again where that little ray of sunshine returned, just for a few minutes. Shortly after it disappeared he got up on his own and came back into the house, almost as if he was telling us he was ready.

As difficult as this day has been we find comfort in the fact that he is no longer suffering. He is at peace and free from any discomfort and pain. We did everything we could’ve possibly done for him and more.