Cover image via Sukhbir Cheema / SAYS
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Many years ago, a colleague took leave when their pet died. I remember wondering, "It's just a cat. What's the big deal?"
When Meow Meow died, I finally understood what they must have felt.
Meow Meow was an oyen tabby cat my family adopted when we first moved into our home in 2022.
I always thought I was a dog person until the day I met Meow Meow.
I was jogging in my neighborhood park when I spotted him lying casually on the jogging path. Each time I got close, he tried to grab my shoelace.
It was my then 6-year-old daughter who suggested we adopt him. I remember opening the main gate and telling him that if he walked in, he would be part of our family.
"But there's one condition. You need to work hard keeping the mice and creepy crawlies away."
Meow Meow didn't keep the mice or creepy crawlies away. But he did capture our hearts. He walked in, and in a way, adopted us.
I always thought Meow Meow would live a good, long life. When we brought him into our family, he was about 2 years old.
We never knew how he came to the neighbourhood. He just showed up one day.
He was extremely independent and had his own routine. I never needed an alarm clock because every morning at six sharp, he would start meowing for breakfast. I would wake up, serve him food, take my shower, and then wake my daughter for school.
At seven sharp, he would leave the house to do his business in the park. By 9 in the morning, he would be back to sleep, only to wake again at 5pm for more food. Nights were what I used to consider his "office hours", when he'd be out exploring the neighbourhood.
Meow Meow led a pretty adventurous life. Being an oyen, he had his quirks. He would often tumble on purpose and show his tummy whenever we scratched him. He also loved being carried like a baby.
He was the gentlest family member we've ever had. Each time I worked on my laptop, he would nap next to me. His calm, sleepy presence was quietly reassuring.
I also enjoyed our little 'hide and spot Meow Meow' game. Many times, I would find him sleeping in the unlikeliest of places, from piles of laundry to inside the wardrobe and even behind the oven. Meow Meow was a cat who appreciated nooks and crannies.
Gentle and calm, Meow Meow's death came suddenly and tragically
Sometime in early December 2025, he stopped eating. When we checked his body, there were no wounds or bite marks, so we thought he probably had a sore throat or a toothache. A couple of days later, he started eating again, though slightly less than before.
To us, this seemed like a positive sign.
However, on 15 December, things took a turn for the worse. One moment, he was in his usual loaf position, and the next, his tongue was swollen and sticking out, panting. He was turning blue.
We rushed him to the vet, who said that he might be having a heart attack. To stabilise him, the vet placed Meow Meow in an oxygen chamber.
He started to look better because his tongue turned pink again, and he was sitting up. I always knew Meow Meow was a fighter, so when the vet told us to go home, I held on to a sliver of hope.
The next morning, I woke up to the dreaded phone call that Meow Meow was no more.
My last memory of Meow Meow was of him breathing heavily, his pupils dilated. I wished I could have held him in my arms one last time. I placed my hands on the chamber, and he tried rubbing his face against them as he always did. Only this time, the glass separated us. It still hurts deeply whenever I think of this moment.
In her TED Talk, Dr Sarah Hoggan said that while losing a pet is crushing, society often minimises its significance. Still, the experience is valid, and the grief we feel is real.
The California-based emergency veterinarian shared that it's absolutely normal to relive the painful minute-by-minute decisions we've made at the end of our pets' lives. We do this because emotional pain hurts, and we want to avoid a repeat of that same experience. However, she admitted that reliving those decisions can feel like self-punishment.
Dr Hoggan explained that pet loss grief is valid because if our pets can make us laugh out loud with joy, losing them can absolutely break our hearts, sometimes even more than losing a family member. She goes on to outline three reasons why losing a pet is devastating:
- Our pets love us unconditionally. They love us regardless of our background, social standing, or financial status.
- Since pets can't speak, the decision to say goodbye often falls entirely on us.
- Society often downplays the significance of pet loss grief.
What makes pet loss even harder are the comorbidity factors that accompany the myriad of grief types.
"Comorbidity is a medical term that means something that makes a bad situation, even worse," Dr Hoggan explains. She adds that there are five common ones:
- You lost a pet or made a euthanasia decision due to a preventable cause.
- The pet you lost was a rescue, a broken soul who learned to trust and love again.
- Your pet rescued you during a time of crisis.
- You lost a pet who served as a living link to someone you lost before, making the loss feel like losing that loved one all over again.
- You lost a pet who was more than just a pet. For me, Meow Meow fell into this category.
Dr Hoggan says that understanding is the first step in addressing one's grief, followed by accepting the loss, avoiding self-blame or blame on others, and honouring your pet's memory in your own personal way.
American cat behaviorist, YouTuber, and former host of the television show My Cat from Hell, Jackson Galaxy, said that the reason pet loss grief is minimised by society is because it's part of a category of grief called "disenfranchised grief"
"Disenfranchised grief" is a type of grief that a person experiences when they incur a loss that is not or can't be openly acknowledged, societally sanctioned or publicly mourned.
In other words, pet loss grief is in the same category of disenfranchised grief as miscarriage, stillbirth, suicide and murder. If you're someone who falls in these categories of grief, chances are you're probably afraid of your grief being dismissed, devalued, or scorned or laughed at.
Jackson suggests writing one's feelings and experiences down. By naming and claiming the loss of our pets, and describing how our world has changed while figuring out ways to incorporate the loss through small acts of remembrance, we're slowly able to move on.
To me, writing about Meow Meow and pet loss grief is my small act of remembrance and honouring the loss of a loved one and also, coming to terms with the loss I've experienced.
At the same time, I also want you to know that you're not alone and that everything you're feeling from confusion to anger to deep, profound sadness, is real. I don't know if it will get easier, but you will recover.
Death is painful because you lose someone you love having around to the great mystery forever. All that remains, in the end, are the fragile memories. Many will be forgotten and only a few will be vividly remembered.
Scent. Sight. Sound. Warmth. These will stay for as long as the mind can hold them. The rest.. evaporate. And this is why death is heartbreaking. It's life forcing itself to forget. To forget so that newer memories can happen.
But what makes death difficult is that it's hard to forget. There will always be a part of us that fights hard to remember. And it is these parts that help keep the memories alive through small acts of remembrance.
There's a saying, grief is the price we pay for love. In the end, the only question that truly matters is: did you love intensely enough?
From now on, every time I have my breakfast in the dining room, I'll miss seeing Meow Meow looking out of the window. I'll miss his purring each time I snuggle up to him. I will miss having him nap nearby as I work.
But I know, in the deepest part of my heart, what I will miss most (and always will), is him brushing against me. Because he knew that I loved it.
Thank you for your assuring presence in our lives. You were the best person I've ever met and a good family member. We will always miss you, Meow Meow. Very much.
And yes, I loved you intensely. It was worth it, and I'd do it again, and again, and again.
