Today marks one year since we lost our boy Loki, a mini Norwegian Forest Cat (NFC) of 5 years, to a hit and run just in front of the house. Despite being an NFC, he was tiny, barely weighing about 3.5 Kg (7.7 lbs), likely due to the tough life he must have endured before being brought to a shelter where I first met him.
I don't get what possesses people to break the speed limit and rush through little villages just to maybe save a couple of minutes. My little boy of slender bones and plush fur had no chance against 2 tons of metal and 200 horsepower.
I wish I could believe he didn't suffer, that it was just a painless instance. But I knew as I held his frail body struggling to breathe, as I heard his gut-wrenching screams, that he was in agony beyond imagination.
Rushing to the vet in the middle of the night, I prayed to whatever powers govern this wretched world. I prayed that even when they don't care for my black heart, they might spare my innocent boy. While the vet seemed kind at first, having rushed to her office in the dead of night, and told us his broken hip and fluids in his lungs could be healed, that we should stay optimistic, as cats are tough, it was not the case. I begged her to give him some painkillers, I wanted to stay with him. But I had to leave him with the last image of him placed in an oxygen breathing box, still gasping desperately for air, and in too much pain.
The next morning came the call that he had passed away during the night.
He died alone, in pain, suffocating in his own blood clogging his lungs.
And I can never forgive myself or this horrible, selfish world.
As I later received his rigid, lifeless body to bury, I kept begging, in between useless sobs, that it had been me. I truly wished it and still do. Why does this world have to be so cruel? Loki was the sweetest boy. I loved & still love him beyond anything and everything. His body now rests at the shady roots of an old cherry tree in the garden. I truly hope his soul is in a better place, perhaps flying on the backs of gentle Valkyries and looking down at us. I don't believe in an afterlife. In fact, even the idea of bearing an eternal existence scares me to the bones. But I hope that one day, I'll see him again, happy and not in pain.
I don't get what possesses people to break the speed limit and rush through little villages just to maybe save a couple of minutes. My little boy of slender bones and plush fur had no chance against 2 tons of metal and 200 horsepower.
I wish I could believe he didn't suffer, that it was just a painless instance. But I knew as I held his frail body struggling to breathe, as I heard his gut-wrenching screams, that he was in agony beyond imagination.
Rushing to the vet in the middle of the night, I prayed to whatever powers govern this wretched world. I prayed that even when they don't care for my black heart, they might spare my innocent boy. While the vet seemed kind at first, having rushed to her office in the dead of night, and told us his broken hip and fluids in his lungs could be healed, that we should stay optimistic, as cats are tough, it was not the case. I begged her to give him some painkillers, I wanted to stay with him. But I had to leave him with the last image of him placed in an oxygen breathing box, still gasping desperately for air, and in too much pain.
The next morning came the call that he had passed away during the night.
He died alone, in pain, suffocating in his own blood clogging his lungs.
And I can never forgive myself or this horrible, selfish world.
As I later received his rigid, lifeless body to bury, I kept begging, in between useless sobs, that it had been me. I truly wished it and still do. Why does this world have to be so cruel? Loki was the sweetest boy. I loved & still love him beyond anything and everything. His body now rests at the shady roots of an old cherry tree in the garden. I truly hope his soul is in a better place, perhaps flying on the backs of gentle Valkyries and looking down at us. I don't believe in an afterlife. In fact, even the idea of bearing an eternal existence scares me to the bones. But I hope that one day, I'll see him again, happy and not in pain.
And you, dear reader, if you take away anything from this outpouring of my misery, let it be to press that brake pedal. Believe me that the minute you might manage to save can never be worth destroying so many lives.
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