Rest in peace, Wally Heather. Words cannot justify the joy you gave us.

I really have no clue why I'm typing this.. after Wally's death I've had absolutely no incentive to do anything.

I feel as if I owe him something.

I don't know why.

Wally was my mother and I's cat, and he was more human than some people I've seen. I cannot believe he's gone, since he held the two of us together..

Heh, I remember one time, he hurt his arm. He was laying in the hallway and he lifted his arm up and showed my mother, as if he knew by showing her she would understand. It was so lifelike I could not comprehend it at the time.

A week ago, or, the beginning of march, he started to change. Last october he had his teeth out - everybody back then told us to put him to sleep as an act as kindness. We didn't, he had his teeth out, and as a result, he had from october to march. If we had, we would of basically killed him and removed 5 months of his life.

A week ago.. he stopped sleeping with my mother. He stopped jumping on her bed, he stopped acting like Wally. Instead of sleeping on his chair in the living room, he just sat beside it, sitting there.

Eventually it became worse. He would sit in the same place for almost entire days, not doing anything. He would barely drink any water, which was weird because in feburary he drank quite alot of water.

We knew he had kidney failure, but we thought it was something else. Back when we had his teeth out, we could tell because he kept trying to push something out of his mouth with his tongue and paw.

I'm still surprised we did it.

March the 9th was the hardest day of my life. We got the cats(Willy, and Wally) from this couple who were going overseas, in 1994. I was 8. Willy was hit by a car, and he died on the 12th of january, 2001. I was 14 then. Now I'm 19 and Wally's gone.. my only real friend, is gone. The house feels so empty now.

12 years with Wally, and 7 years with Willy. I feel as if a quarter of my heart is missing now.

Currently, my mother is sitting over there, crying, waiting for Wally to wake up. He's sitting on a box on the living room floor, but we all know he isn't going to wake up. I still can't believe we did this.

I knew something was wrong when he stopped eating. Eventually, in the past 3 days, it seemed as if he had trouble drinking as well. His tongue wouldn't come out all of the way to lap up the water, and he barely had any food within the past week.

We took him to the vet a few days ago, and we put him on a drip. Back then, he was really dehydrated. His eyes had sunken in, he just didn't look like the Wally we knew. After he was hydrated he looked better, but I knew that it wasn't natural to take a pet to the vet, every single day, to put them on a drip. It isn't natural.

Neither is getting him put down, and that's where we both regret doing so.

A few days ago, he very slowly went to the front door. This was in the middle of the day when he went outside. You must know, Wally never liked traffic. He never liked cars, the noise, and he was outright scared of them. But a few days ago, he went down to the gutter and started drinking the gutter water. A couple of days later he did the same thing yet again, but it hadn't been raining. He was just sitting there, in the gutter. We both believe that this was his way of telling us he wanted to end his life.

I don't think putting an animal down is right at all. I still find it cruel, considering had we of not done it, he still would be with us. Of course, he would just be sitting there, staring at the floor all day, and almost never moving, but he still had life. He didn't even get a say in the matter.

Speaking of that, when we took him to get put down.. I explained everything to him. Yesterday aws the 9th, and we took him in the box he's laying in right now. What makes it really sad is that he just looked like a normal cat. His eyes were bad and they looked like they had a film strip over them, but he was standing up, looking around, wondering what was going on.

In the waiting room, he let out a very tiny meow. When the vet picked him out of the box, he meowed once more. I still don't know whether or not he was trying to tell us something.

A few days ago, we put Wally on a long lasting antibiotic. This was on the 8th at 3 pm. He was put down at 2 pm the next day. We didn't even let the antibiotic work properly. I can't help but wonder whether had we not of put him down, whether he would of gotten better.

He was born in 1988. We picked him up in 94, but the previous owners said he was hit by a car when he was younger. Like the survivor Wally is, he survived. I think that's why Wally was so scared and afraid of cars. Until a few days ago..

I remember, each week we'd come home with shopping. I made a point of going with my mother to the supermarket so I could get these yummy minipizzas which were really nice. Then we'd come home.

Then we would see Wally. The entire house consists of him. When you live with your mother and your cat, family is respected thoroughly. I always had to tell my mother where he was(left or right of the car) so that she could drive in.

Then we would start unpacking from the boot. Wally would help.. he would run into the house, check the kitchen, run outside, meow at us, as if he was trying to help unpack the shopping. Obviously he didn't "help" but it gave us a sense that he was trying.

He would sit outside while my mother mowed the lawn. Then when she changed sides, so would he.

I already miss the way he did stuff. I'm not sure, but my mother is taking this real hard. After he was put down, I was sad, but I'm horrified that I haven't grieved for my loved one. I don't think it's "hit", but if it has, I still feel like a horrible person.

A few hours after he was put down, my mother started digging a grave for him. He's going to be buried today up the backyard, next to Willy.

I miss the way he would push my door open with his poor, to tell me that he wanted to go outside or wanted something to eat.

He sat on the washing machine sometimes too. Everywhere you look in this house, it's a constant reminder of Wally.

When he couldn't make it to his dirt box in the toilet, he would use the shower. How intelligent is that? We didn't even teach him. In his final days though, he didn't have the energy to use his dirt box. He just peed whereever he was sitting sometimes. I say sometimes because most of the time he'd still, in these final days, he would still make the effort to move, meow, and try to let us know.

I regret not spending enough time with him. I remember somewhere in 2000-2002 when I didn't have a computer, and I used my mothers, she decided to stick it in my room. The house is full of junk so there wasn't really anywhere to put it. We put the computer in the top left corner of the room, and the bed was opposite it. At the end of the computer desk, in front of the cupbord, we made him a little bed. It was a box much like the one he was in now, except it had a sheepskin rug inside of it, it was nice and soft.

I remember kicking that box, and he jumped out, cried, and never used it again. I won't forgive myself for that. It was uncalled for, and I should of had more respect.

When we first got them, I remember saying a few days earlier that I wanted a ginger cat. Willy, essentially, was my cat. Wally was my mother's cat, and it's really hard to cope with.

I'm going to miss the mornings where I would wake up and go into my mother's room, and I would see my mother on her side. Wally would be curled up in front of her chest, or the times he would bellyflop next to her. Or the times he would get under her sheets to keep warm.

I'm going to miss the way he wanted to get on my computer's desk. He would smooch my harddrive.. and I ended up always getting a towel and wiping it because it would be covered in drool. He smooged everything, you know. He would make my speakers fall over, he would smooch boxes and corners, everything.

He had 3 beds, but that never really stopped him from finding new ones. He had one in the living room, on the chair directly in front of the tv. He had another one in front of the window in my mother's room. Probably the highest, as it was on chester drawers. He had to make quite a jump(roughly 5 feet) in order to reach it. Eventually he would only make 4 feet or so and climb the rest. His final bed was my mother's.

I remember finding him in some weird places, though. Under my mother's bed, for example. Sleeping on the packed boxes in my mother's room which we still haven't opened, sleeping at the corner of my mother's bed. Sleeping beside my mother's bed between the lamp and her bed. He would sleep anywhere where he felt safe.

I spent so much fucking time on this computer when I could of been with Wally. My priorities are all messed up.. but there's nothing I can do about it now.

I had my hand on his hip, and his back. My mother had his hand on Wally's chest, and head. His body went limp and my mother didn't let go of his head. They shaved off a small section of his arm and put him down. If it was the right thing to do, why do we feel so bad?

More importantly, why am I a horrible person? After he died, I have hardly cried. I'm not as sad as what I was when he was alive, and that's really messed up. I remember back in 2002, I was a big magic: the gathering player, and I was an op in an efnet channel called #apprentice. The channel was huge, and it must of had over 200 people. I remember talking about Wally there, and there's a couple of people from there that still call me up, and ask me "how's Wally doing"? But no, he's not doing anything, he's sitting in a box, and I don't know where he is.

I'm pretty sure I can say that I'm afraid of not death itself, but what happens afterwards. There's all these questions such as "what dimension do the dead live in?" and "is there a heaven and hell?" or "is earth hell, and when you die, you're in heaven?" or "is the afterlife identical to this one but only consists of dead people?" which I won't know until I'm passed on myself.

It sounds selfish, and it is, but had we not of put him down, everything would be the same. Minus the fact that Wally would be sitting there miserable, looking at the floor, wondering what's going on, but he still would have life and he still would of been with us.

I'm in the worst position myself, being 19. My mother's 53, my aunt is 55, my grandad is 80, and my cousin is 25. Basically, my cousin doesn't want anything to do with me. My grandad has the view of "once you die, that's it, you're dead, and it's over" which really scares me, but the point is everybody is older than I am. If people in my family are going to die due to say, age, then I'm going to watch everyone die around me. It just isn't fair.

We'll probably bury him later today, but finding a time is just as hard as finding a time to put him down. It feels like... it feels like placing a time on putting him to sleep is exactly like sentencing somebody to death. Wally was definitely a somebody.

I must also confess that I prayed to god constantly. I would say things such as "God, please give Wally my strength." quite often. I'm not going to amount to much in my life, and now that Wally is gone I have absolutely no incentive to make something of myself, but I really felt that giving Wally my strength via god would keep him alive longer. I thought it would help because Wally was old, and he needed it more.

Yet another thing I will miss about Wally was when he was curled up in a ball. If you scratched his stomach properly, he would flip upside down and open up like a little flower. If you scratched/tickled a certain spot at the end of his tail, where his tailbone is, he would start licking thin air. See, he couldn't reach that part with his tongue. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach it. What was really beautiful was that he would stare in a specific direction, and start licking at absolutely nothing.

I know it sounds odd, but Wally had the illusion that he was licking the spot near his tailbone, even though he really wasn't. If you stuck your finger out while scratching that area, he would start licking your finger. He would even gnaw on your finger sometimes. If he stopped licking my finger, I would stop scratching that area. Sometimes he would start licking my finger again, and I would start scratching that area with my other hand, yet again. Total illusion, but he liked it.

In the final days, he didn't respond to scratching that spot anymore.

It's the small things like that which made me love Wally so much. It's depressing because I only remember a couple of things about my grandma, yet I was 10 when she died(1996). Basically what I'm trying to say is that, once you end up experiencing the loss of someone, the finer details as mentioned above, gradually begin to fade.

That's what I'm scared of the most. Somebody dies, people are sad, you don't forget them, but the finer details of what made them special end up becoming faded. I think that's what they mean by "faded memories."

Alas, if the antibiotics didn't make any improvement we still would of had to put him down. Everybody thought it would be for the best. Even the vet said that they don't usually leave cats with kidney failure.

My mother feels as if she killed Wally. She drove him over there, and while we did tell him he was going to be put down, and we said everything we could before he was, she still feels as if she killed him. She had to sign something minutes before it happened, and what she feels, was signing his life away.

But if we did the right thing, why does it hurt so bad?

Pictures taken of Wally between October 2005 and January 2006.

This is a tribute in loving memory of Wally Heather.
I pray that you will rest in peace and when our time has passed, we will be together again.
We will never forget you.
1988-2006

Jam it back in, in the dark.

My cat died in October last year, and to be honest, I was messed up that whole month. She was a lovely cat, and I loved her so much. She lived a good 9 years with us, since she was a kitten.

When she got sick around August, we took her to the vet and they found she had cancer in the urinary tract. They said any kind of intervention would likely kill her, and they suggested that we either put her to sleep or take her home.

Of course we took her home, and we tried to make her last days as good as possible. I wasn't home when she died, but I found her in the living room corner. Her bladder had let go, but I didn't care. I held her in my lap, and I cried and begged her to wake up.

When we buried her, I wrote her letter letting her know the joy she brought to my life, and all the good times we had together when we were younger. I told her how much I loved her and much I will miss her.

It took me a while to get back to normal, but I eventually did. Whenever I think of her now, I think of all the fun times and the laughs... just celebrating her life I guess.

And yeah, you did the right thing so don't let it eat you up. In retrospect, my cat did appear to go through a lot of pain towards the end, and I think she would have been happier if we let her go. We were selfish and wanted to keep her with us, and if I can, I want to apologize to her for that. You and your mother made the right choice. You were merciful and Wally thanks you for it.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Thank you very much for your kind words.

We just buried him within the last 15 minutes. I made a promise that once myself and my family die, we will be together again. It's only logical and right that people are together again once they've died.

The vet told us that Wally was not in pain, but he "would feel as if he has a headache all the time making him feel miserable" and that isn't a very nice way to die.

I feel somewhat uplifted now that he's buried. He's safe now, no longer in pain, no longer has kidney problems, he's fine. He's happy.

If that's what it takes. If we need to be sad, in order for Wally to be happy, then that's fine. I am willing to be sad for his passing, but I am willing to be happy as he will be now. I am conformtable knowing that he is no longer feeling miserable and he's safe now.

I cannot help but wonder if Wally walking onto the road for a drink of water was his way of trying to tell us he wants to go, and his way of him trying to end his life. We won't ever know for sure, but considering Wally never, ever liked cars and traffic, and for him to do something such as that, really makes me think.

I still feel like a horrible person, even if we have done the right thing. This is a turning point in my life, as my mother just said, and I'm going to need to communicate better with her. Wally has opened our eyes.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Moved to ANGST.

I'm sorry for your loss, Elixir.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Recently a friend of mine tried to keep her dog alive instead of putting it down; and she regretted it simply because of the amount of pain the dog was experiencing.

I never owned a pet, so I can't know what void it fills when it's there, or what void is created when it's gone. I do have sympathy for you, however.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Thanks.

We went to the supermarket and just got home. It's sad because we still do the finer things to make sure he's alright. For example, my mother opens her car door slowly so she doesn't accidentally whack him. Even though he's gone, we're still doing the same things as before.

I still get up from my computer desk slowly, I still walk around slowly. I did kick him on accident a few times, and I'm feeling quite bad about that, but even after he's gone it's still happening.

I know it's going to change. For the earlier of today I had been thinking, as well as my mother, we've both been considering moving. Everything, and every room, is a reminder of Wally. However, after thinking about it that's a good thing. We should be reminded of Wally, and we should miss him. We do, but if we move house, it isn't going to be the same.

Everything just feels so empty. I had no incentive to put shopping away, because Wally wasn't there - to sniff and wonder what we've bought. In a sense, we still treat him like he's here. We still both believe that his soul and spirit are in the house. Nobody can be certain of whether or not this is true, but it just feels like that. Unfortunately it still doesn't fill the gap as we won't be physically seeing him anymore.

I'm sorry, Gamingforce, I shouldn't be depressing everybody like this. I feel it necessary to express myself though, and while it's a very stupid notion as it's leaving me vunerable on the internet, I feel that it must be done.

The thoughts are still racing through both of our minds. After we buried him and I responded earlier, my aunt came over for awhile. I'm pretty antisocial with her, but I think it somewhat helped. I'm mad at her because she has let us down 3 times in the past few days. Firstly, my mother wanted her to visit us so that we could see if Wally was interested in guests anymore. The second time was when my aunt offered to help dig the grave, and never turned up. The third was today, when she said she would come out. She didn't end up coming to our place until 4 pm, after the burial.

I am still mad at her for this, but in the end she did make the effort. I guess I should be thankful.

I feel that Wally is better now. He no longer has any problems, worries, headaches, problems moving, problems going somewhere to pee, etc. I'm just so scared that I'll forget the finer details of what made him Wally. That's one of the reasons why I don't want to move into a different house - because everything reminds me of him.

I think it's a good thing, being reminded of Wally, but gradually over time the smaller points in his life we'll forget about. I know this, because I can't remember very much of my grandma when she died - still, I was only 10. According to my mother, it's perfectly normal not to remember much when somebody dies and you're 10. Tiny little memories come back in regards to my grandma, but she would of deserved better and more than just that alone.

With Wally, I wanted to bury him as soon as possible. Not yesterday, though, but exactly 25 hours he died we did. Why? Because I wanted him to rest. Keeping his body in the house didn't feel right whatsoever. Last night my mother kept his body in her bedroom, and it's going to be hard for her tonight. I don't know what to do to make her feel better.

I still can't believe this has all happened.

I don't think it's hit me yet.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Sorry about Wally mate, no doubt it's pretty horrible right now. Don't beat your self up about not crying or what ever just now, I was the same when my Grandma died a couple of years back. We all knew it was coming, she had cancer for a while, she finally died a week or so after new years (holding on so everyone would have a happy holiday was so like her) but when I found out I didn't cry a single tear. Which I felt pretty bad about.

At the funeral how ever, cried my fucking eyes out. So yes, in summation, don't be too hard on your self mate. There is no strict rules regarding mourning, just do what you need to do to remember the memory of Wally and don't force anything.

RIP Wally!

FELIPE NO

Thanks peeack, I appreciate it. Especially from you.

I still don't know why I'm not an absolute wreck though. I feel bad, for not crying. I have cried off and on, but I don't feel that it's enough. Wally probably deserved more tears.

I'm happy at the same time, because Wally doesn't have kidney failure anymore, he doesn't have that small film across his eyes, and he looked peaceful when we buried him. His body looked free of any harm. His eyes were fine, it was as if all problems were lifted from his body.

My mother's also asked me multiple times today whether or not putting him down was the right thing to do. I really don't know. Perhaps I'm not crying as much as I anticipated due to the fact that I feel as if Wally is happy now. He no longer has any problems, but I'm sad that he's gone. It's also quite hard for my mother seeing as how her mother(my grandma) also died of kidney failure. She said she saw the same problems in Wally as she did with my grandma.

I'm also sad as nobody on earth knows what happens after you die. I think that scares me the most. It scares me how my grandad thinks(once you die, that's it, it's over) and I'm skeptical of how my aunt thinks(reincarnation) and I really don't know what to think since everybody has their own beliefs. They can't all be true.

What I do believe, though, is that when you die, you meet up with your loved ones. It's only right that this happens. It's only right that everyone is together once they've passed.

There's also the theory of dimensions and the list goes on. Perhaps Wally is in the house right now, smooching legs of tables and such. Perhaps when you die there's a world exactly like this one, except it consists of people who have died only.

I really have no clue. Nobody knows. Nobody is ever going to find out since you can't die and live to tell the story.

Perhaps I'm in denial, because I really think I should of cried more. Does not crying as much as I expected mean I didn't care as much as I thought for Wally? I hope not, but I don't know why I'm like this. It's so hard.

I think, this is one way of remembering him. Along with the photos, this thread, the photos I haven't shown, and the memories. I'm still scared that I'll forget the small details of Wally though.

All I remember of my grandma was about 3-4 things. There's probably more but I can't remember them. I was 10 when she died, and I remember having Fish & Chips with her behind a supermarket, which had a grassy spot. I also remember looking at houses to buy with her and my mother.

I think she also liked a specific town here called Manurewa, but I'm still not certain. That's not alot of memories for my grandmother, and I feel like she deserves more. I feel really bad about that too.

Wally's buried now, and I did promise him that we will all be together once our time is over. My mother promised Wally that we would never have another cat, because Wally was her number 1.

Now she's beating herself up over that. If Wally is reincarnated as a cat, and my mother decides to keep the cat, she'll be breaking her promise to Wally. But my mother doesn't want to turn Wally away, if it is him in another form. Then again, how do we know that it's really him?

I think it's because of what happened to Willy. Willy and Wally are now buried side-by-side up the backyard, and I still think of Willy. He was hit by a car in 2001(I'm not sure if I already mentioned this) and on the weekend, a little ginger cat started to appear. He roamed around the car, he even came inside once. As soon as the little ginger kitten saw Wally, it ran off. It came back a couple of times, and put it's paw on the front step. Willy was hit by a car, but he was found in front of the house. We're not sure whether or not somebody put him there, or whether he staggered home trying to tell us.

He didn't make it all the way home, only to outside of the house. When the small ginger kitten came and put it's paw on the front step, I always felt as if that was Willy, telling us that he's okay, and telling us that he's made it home.

I always believed that it was Willy reincarnated.

Perhaps I'm reading too much into it. Perhaps when Wally walked out onto the road and sat into the gutter, perhaps it didn't mean he was trying to tell us that he wanted to end his life. See, nobody knows.

Being the youngest in the family has to definitely be the worst possible thing ever. Being antisocial, at that. I don't want to die alone, nor do I want people to die around me. I know it's a part of life but it's so hard to comprehend and take it all in.

I better stop rambling for now.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

Poor Wally. I'm really sorry about your cat. I know it must be very hard to get used to not having him around anymore, but things will get easier over time. Maybe the best thing you can do right now is to remember Wally and not let the memories fade. I don't think you 'killed' Wally. Maybe it's just one of those inevitable moments that has to occur sooner or later. Again, I'm really sorry and I hope you're coping with the situation slightly better than before..

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Man, that's a really sad story Elixir. I definitly understand how you feel having lost several animal companions throughout my life, most of which I was incredibly close to. My current cat is pushing on 12 years now and she seems healthy enough. I just hope she doesn't suddenly kick the bucket or I'd be in the same state as you right now. I try to shed her with attention every day just in case that one day comes, so I don't feel like I neglected her or took my time with her for granted.

Hopefully the pain will lessen over time. Wally sounded like a damn fine cat and I know I would have been sad to have lost him too. Try to feel better dude.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Oh man, this is so hard.

She just went out. She's gone out for smokes. I've tried telling her that she really needs to stop smoking, but it's hopeless.

Especially with Wally passing. The last thing you want to do is give up smoking when a loved one has died. But eventually.. she really needs to quit.

I feel really bad for my mother at the moment though. I was talking to her for an hour just now, she feels as if she killed Wally. She drove him there, she signed the document, and she authorized him to be.. well.. killed. That's how she feels.

The thing is, I don't know what to say. I've tried telling her that we did the right thing. I'm not sure in my heart that putting him down was the right thing to do, but there isn't many ways I can think of to ease and calm her.

She mentioned Wally's last meows again. "We'll never know if he was trying to tell us he's getting better" she says. It's really sad, but I'm not crying. I'm really fucked up.

And that's another thing. I should be crying, but I'm not. Why? I know mourning is each to their own, and people have their own way of dealing with death, but this is horrible.

Thanks again for the kind words, guys. I really appreciate it. I haven't been the best forum member and I know alot of people here dislike me, but I'm glad there hasn't been any "It's just a cat, get over it" comments. I think that would really make me sad.

I told my mother to drive safe, just now. If she dies I will kill myself. I've even told her that, and she's said "no, don't do that, you have a life to live, you need to get on and live it" but really. I do not want to live this life when there's so much grief and pain to experience.

I still don't understand why I'm not crying. It just doesn't make sense. I have my moments, yes, and I've been talking to Wally. I've been looking through the kitchen window, and I can see the patch where we buried him. I just don't know what to do next.

Last night when we came home from supermarket shopping, the house felt so empty. Wally protected the house, but when(my mother and I) we're both gone, the house is so empty and lonely.

My mother said "Wally dying has made both of us realize, that we need to get on with our lives and make something of ourselves." but I still lack confidence in doing so. I don't think I could start a proper family, have kids, own a house, and all that. I don't think I'm capable of handling that.

I had no real incentive to do anything with my life when Wally was alive, and now that he's gone I have even less. I don't want his death to be a wasted cause but.. I don't know if I can make something of myself.

Most amazing jew boots

When I was much younger (I must have been around 7-8) I had to go to the funeral of one of my grandparents. I didn't cry then either. To be honest I was more disturbed by just how sad everyone else was; I guess I was too young to understand. The point is, crying is just a reaction some people to have to certain feelings. That you aren't crying doesn't mean you feel any less pain from your loss than anyone else who does.

My parents are sick and old, and (at the risk of sounding like a dork to some) I really love my mother, especially because of all she's been through I want to look after her but I can't make her well again or young again, and I have to realise that at some point she'll be gone too. I can't imagine quite how i'll feel and I don't think about it much because I know it'd destroy me. What your mother said was right though. If anything, losing someone close to you can give you a fresh appreciation for life and how fragile it is. You will struggle for a while but with time you'll realise that life does go on and that life is what you make of it, so you might as well make the most of it. Even seemingly small, insignificant things are beautiful, though unfortunately many don't realise it.

If you're afraid of forgetting the little habits your cat had, then write them down or make a scrapbook, so you'll never forget.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Ulysses, you're right. If anything, my mother and I need to move on in our lives, and progress foward.

I think Wally would want us to move on, too. I'm still not confident though. I really don't think I could find the right girl, settle down, find a house, have kids, and life out my life properly. It is possible, but I'm just not confident in myself enough to see this happening as of yet.

What I can do, though, is spend more time with my mother. No problem. Perhaps the whole "getting a family" thing is a bit of an extreme step, even if it is moving on. My mother and I haven't really been that close, and I think with Wally dying it's brought us closer together and we're going to need to communicate with eachother more than ever.

I did consider making a scrapbook. Unfortunately I don't have photos of Wally doing the small things he did, but I could just write them in. It's a good idea, so I'll seriously consider it.

I feel at peace now, because Wally is safe, but I really miss him. Perhaps not crying is my way of dealing with it, but I still have my moments where it hits. I still am going to keep my promise to Wally - that we'll be together once we've all died.

My mother suggested bringing my tv into the lounge, since over the past few years I've been spending alot of time in my room in front of my tv, doing nothing but watching it and playing games. If we bring it into the lounge, we can be closer together. Unfortunately my mother doesn't have the same interests as I, but it'll make the both of us feel less lonely if we're spending time together - not necessarily having a conversation, but just knowing that we're in eachother's presence.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Ok then, let's say that you are fully serious about everything you have said in this thread. Here is my advice.

If you are having this much difficulting coping with the death of a family pet, you are probably suffering from some deep seeded emotional issues. You should seek out professional psychiatric advice so that you will learn to cope with issues such as personal loss and other significant changes that will soon occur in your life. Considering your age, you will soon be moving out into the real world, getting a full time job, living on your own, being responsible for your own welfare. This entails many significant changes in your day to day life and you will need to be prepared to address these changes and cope with these changes.

How ya doing, buddy?

I am fully serious. I would not have expressed myself through these words pointlessly, everything I've said has been absolutely true.

My mother has said I can stay as long as I want before I move out, but that is irrelevant. I really love and loved Wally, and this is my way with dealing with it.

Wally wasn't just "another family pet" he affected both of our lives and sometimes brought us together. Even if we didn't pay attention to Wally, we knew he would be around somewhere. Now we know that he isn't around anymore, the conformtable feeling of his presence is gone. It feels as if I've lost not only my beloved cat, but the feeling of essence he provided around the house.

I've met people, seen their personalities and attitude, and I'm positive in saying that Wally was better than quite a few humans that I've encountered. He had such an intellectual side that you wouldn't even be able to come to terms with understanding it. It may seem like it's extreme to be at this length over a cat, but it's not "just a cat." after all.

It would be equal to losing a 12 year old brother, son, sister, or whatever. We've had 12 glorious years with Wally, and I cherish them all. If I do have "deep seeded emotional issues" I'm not currently aware of them. Yes, I lack confidence in moving out, getting a house, and so on, but I wouldn't consider lack of confidence to be a deep seeded emotional issue. It's just a thing.

Having somebody close to you die is entirely different from moving or buying a house. The change is entirely different. I don't think you know just how much he meant to us.

Double Post:
This is bad. My mother really does believe that she killed Wally.

It's quite a bad position to be in, really. When I think about it, she's partially right. I mean, she drove him there. She authorized it to happen, and had he died naturally she wouldn't feel so bad. I don't know what to say or do to make her feel better.

I've started helping around the house more, but I really doubt some things. It's easy to say "get a real job, get a life, get a wife, get a house, settle down, and have kids." but the process is extremely time consuming and difficult.

On my current wages I wouldn't be able to survive renting or boarding in somebody else's house. I'm sure Work & Income would be able to help but that doesn't really solve the issue properly.

This house feels so god damn lonely now. I'm going to spend more time with her but I don't think that's enough. If you think what I've done here is a stretch, how do you think my mother feels? She was more intellectually involved with Wally and his life than I was, and it's still upsetting her quite alot.

I still feel bad for not crying as much as I expected, though. Yes, I am sad that he's gone, and I've done small things such as leave my bedroom door open a little so he could come in(I know he's passed, but still, if his spirit is around it's always welcome) while I've tried to sleep. Last night took awhile, but having problems sleeping was kind of expected too.

12 years. 12 years I spent with him, and now he's gone. We basically grew up together(I was 7 when we got both Willy and Wally, and now I'm 19) and it really hurts now. I know I won't forget him but "moving on" sounds so cruel. It sounds as if you need to release a passed love one in order to progress with your life, but how people go about the process of that without feeling that you're letting them go entirely must be one hell of a difficult task.

What's worse is that I've started thinking about when my mother dies. How am I going to cope with that? I will want to cry, but if I'm not - I'll feel horrible. It isn't fair that people pass and others gradually forget about them.

Also, before I forget: My mother didn't tell me this until just now; on friday, when we buried him, during the night a packet of jellymeat fell from it's usual spot onto the floor. My mother checked around the house and couldn't find anything(she thought it may of been a calender falling down, or something like that) but it turned out to be some cat food falling down.

Now, I could be reading too much into this. But perhaps that's a sign from Wally that he's okay? That happened the same day we buried him.

FELIPE NO

Holy cow, that was a lot of text.

Really sorry about your loss though. I've never had a pet, but I've always loved animals...I can't imagine what it's like to see one die right in front of you.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

As somebody earlier had suggested; I've taken up the liberty of writing down the small details of Wally which I may gradually forget over time. So far, my little notebook consists of roughly 10 pages, and I feel much better after making it.

It's sitting in my sock drawer, which contains my ipod, DS, a picture of Willy, Ouendan, and hopefully shortly a picture of Wally.

I still really miss him. When I went to bed the other night I could of sworn I heard him brushing past boxes like he was smooching them, but there's no real way of telling whether or not it was psychological.

My mother still thinks she killed Wally. It's hurting me because I know she didn't, but I can't seem to change what she thinks. She thinks that her actions killed him - while that is partly true, it had to be done. Right? Well, I keep telling myself that, but I don't think I'm certain as to whether I believe it entirely or not.

One thing that really pisses me off is that we went to 2 vets over the last year. The first one had one thing in their mind, and it wasn't consideration for Wally. All they cared about was payment and how they would recieve their money. The second vet took out a payment plan and was fine about paying them gradually back.

The second vet's receptionist gave us advice as to what we could do, such as a pinch of salt and a tablespoon of honey in Wally's water bowl. That would, according to her, make the water go slower through his body system. Apparently Wally could of been on medication to help against his kidney failure which the first vet mentioned NOTHING ABOUT.

That really pisses me off. I mean, yes, the first vet did their job. They took Wally's teeth out on the 28th of october of last year, and the bill was something around $440-60. It was entirely worth it though, 5 extra months with Wally was priceless.

I wish they had of been more cooperative. All they cared about was money. I wish there were less people in the world that only cared about greed and business instead of feelings and priorities.

Which is more important, saving somebody's life/curing them of pain, or the money to do it with?

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Heh, I got a good picture of this entity called Wally from your text. He seemed to be one of those special cats that, a few of, I too have the pleasure of knowing. Like my sister's cat. He's still only a half-year old rascal, but one of the smartest and most cunning (in a positive way) little lifelings I've come to know in my life. He even has a better sense of humor than most humans I know.

Another cat, Tiku, is owned by my grandfather, who lost his wife and we gave him a kitten to keep him company when he's living all alone in the coutryside. That cat was only a week old when it was taken away from his mother, so he developed an especially strong bond towards any human being. I think he feels himself to be more human than a cat. He's not afraid of even strangers that come to the house, but jumps up on their laps and starts curring satisfied.

I had two guinea pigs when I was a kid. They lived up to 2 and 6 years of age. They both passed away croaking (the pleasure sound gps make, owners of them know what I'm talking about) in the laps of me and my little sister respectively. We never even though of putting them down even when they were sick and in pain. They almost always got healed by the doctors. Except for the last time.

6 years is a huge age for a guinea pig to live to, so that one, called Lotta learned a lot of things in her life. She would run to the kitchen following the walls, never in the middle of the floor, and start creeching in the kitchen (another sound familiar only to guinea pig owners) knowing she'd get a piece of salad, cucumber or fresh-from-the-yard grass by doing so.

Anyway, animals rock. I'm deeply, really sorry for your loss, Elixir.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Originally Posted by Elixir

I really have no clue why I'm typing this.. after Wally's death I've had absolutely no incentive to do anything.

I feel as if I owe him something.

I don't know why.

Wally was my mother and I's cat, and he was more human than some people I've seen. I cannot believe he's gone, since he held the two of us together..

Heh, I remember one time, he hurt his arm. He was laying in the hallway and he lifted his arm up and showed my mother, as if he knew by showing her she would understand. It was so lifelike I could not comprehend it at the time.

A week ago, or, the beginning of march, he started to change. Last october he had his teeth out - everybody back then told us to put him to sleep as an act as kindness. We didn't, he had his teeth out, and as a result, he had from october to march. If we had, we would of basically killed him and removed 5 months of his life.

A week ago.. he stopped sleeping with my mother. He stopped jumping on her bed, he stopped acting like Wally. Instead of sleeping on his chair in the living room, he just sat beside it, sitting there.

Eventually it became worse. He would sit in the same place for almost entire days, not doing anything. He would barely drink any water, which was weird because in feburary he drank quite alot of water.

We knew he had kidney failure, but we thought it was something else. Back when we had his teeth out, we could tell because he kept trying to push something out of his mouth with his tongue and paw.

I'm still surprised we did it.

March the 9th was the hardest day of my life. We got the cats(Willy, and Wally) from this couple who were going overseas, in 1994. I was 8. Willy was hit by a car, and he died on the 12th of january, 2001. I was 14 then. Now I'm 19 and Wally's gone.. my only real friend, is gone. The house feels so empty now.

12 years with Wally, and 7 years with Willy. I feel as if a quarter of my heart is missing now.

Currently, my mother is sitting over there, crying, waiting for Wally to wake up. He's sitting on a box on the living room floor, but we all know he isn't going to wake up. I still can't believe we did this.

I knew something was wrong when he stopped eating. Eventually, in the past 3 days, it seemed as if he had trouble drinking as well. His tongue wouldn't come out all of the way to lap up the water, and he barely had any food within the past week.

We took him to the vet a few days ago, and we put him on a drip. Back then, he was really dehydrated. His eyes had sunken in, he just didn't look like the Wally we knew. After he was hydrated he looked better, but I knew that it wasn't natural to take a pet to the vet, every single day, to put them on a drip. It isn't natural.

Neither is getting him put down, and that's where we both regret doing so.

A few days ago, he very slowly went to the front door. This was in the middle of the day when he went outside. You must know, Wally never liked traffic. He never liked cars, the noise, and he was outright scared of them. But a few days ago, he went down to the gutter and started drinking the gutter water. A couple of days later he did the same thing yet again, but it hadn't been raining. He was just sitting there, in the gutter. We both believe that this was his way of telling us he wanted to end his life.

I don't think putting an animal down is right at all. I still find it cruel, considering had we of not done it, he still would be with us. Of course, he would just be sitting there, staring at the floor all day, and almost never moving, but he still had life. He didn't even get a say in the matter.

Speaking of that, when we took him to get put down.. I explained everything to him. Yesterday aws the 9th, and we took him in the box he's laying in right now. What makes it really sad is that he just looked like a normal cat. His eyes were bad and they looked like they had a film strip over them, but he was standing up, looking around, wondering what was going on.

In the waiting room, he let out a very tiny meow. When the vet picked him out of the box, he meowed once more. I still don't know whether or not he was trying to tell us something.

A few days ago, we put Wally on a long lasting antibiotic. This was on the 8th at 3 pm. He was put down at 2 pm the next day. We didn't even let the antibiotic work properly. I can't help but wonder whether had we not of put him down, whether he would of gotten better.

He was born in 1988. We picked him up in 94, but the previous owners said he was hit by a car when he was younger. Like the survivor Wally is, he survived. I think that's why Wally was so scared and afraid of cars. Until a few days ago..

I remember, each week we'd come home with shopping. I made a point of going with my mother to the supermarket so I could get these yummy minipizzas which were really nice. Then we'd come home.

Then we would see Wally. The entire house consists of him. When you live with your mother and your cat, family is respected thoroughly. I always had to tell my mother where he was(left or right of the car) so that she could drive in.

Then we would start unpacking from the boot. Wally would help.. he would run into the house, check the kitchen, run outside, meow at us, as if he was trying to help unpack the shopping. Obviously he didn't "help" but it gave us a sense that he was trying.

He would sit outside while my mother mowed the lawn. Then when she changed sides, so would he.

I already miss the way he did stuff. I'm not sure, but my mother is taking this real hard. After he was put down, I was sad, but I'm horrified that I haven't grieved for my loved one. I don't think it's "hit", but if it has, I still feel like a horrible person.

A few hours after he was put down, my mother started digging a grave for him. He's going to be buried today up the backyard, next to Willy.

I miss the way he would push my door open with his poor, to tell me that he wanted to go outside or wanted something to eat.

He sat on the washing machine sometimes too. Everywhere you look in this house, it's a constant reminder of Wally.

When he couldn't make it to his dirt box in the toilet, he would use the shower. How intelligent is that? We didn't even teach him. In his final days though, he didn't have the energy to use his dirt box. He just peed whereever he was sitting sometimes. I say sometimes because most of the time he'd still, in these final days, he would still make the effort to move, meow, and try to let us know.

I regret not spending enough time with him. I remember somewhere in 2000-2002 when I didn't have a computer, and I used my mothers, she decided to stick it in my room. The house is full of junk so there wasn't really anywhere to put it. We put the computer in the top left corner of the room, and the bed was opposite it. At the end of the computer desk, in front of the cupbord, we made him a little bed. It was a box much like the one he was in now, except it had a sheepskin rug inside of it, it was nice and soft.

I remember kicking that box, and he jumped out, cried, and never used it again. I won't forgive myself for that. It was uncalled for, and I should of had more respect.

When we first got them, I remember saying a few days earlier that I wanted a ginger cat. Willy, essentially, was my cat. Wally was my mother's cat, and it's really hard to cope with.

I'm going to miss the mornings where I would wake up and go into my mother's room, and I would see my mother on her side. Wally would be curled up in front of her chest, or the times he would bellyflop next to her. Or the times he would get under her sheets to keep warm.

I'm going to miss the way he wanted to get on my computer's desk. He would smooch my harddrive.. and I ended up always getting a towel and wiping it because it would be covered in drool. He smooged everything, you know. He would make my speakers fall over, he would smooch boxes and corners, everything.

He had 3 beds, but that never really stopped him from finding new ones. He had one in the living room, on the chair directly in front of the tv. He had another one in front of the window in my mother's room. Probably the highest, as it was on chester drawers. He had to make quite a jump(roughly 5 feet) in order to reach it. Eventually he would only make 4 feet or so and climb the rest. His final bed was my mother's.

I remember finding him in some weird places, though. Under my mother's bed, for example. Sleeping on the packed boxes in my mother's room which we still haven't opened, sleeping at the corner of my mother's bed. Sleeping beside my mother's bed between the lamp and her bed. He would sleep anywhere where he felt safe.

I spent so much fucking time on this computer when I could of been with Wally. My priorities are all messed up.. but there's nothing I can do about it now.

I had my hand on his hip, and his back. My mother had his hand on Wally's chest, and head. His body went limp and my mother didn't let go of his head. They shaved off a small section of his arm and put him down. If it was the right thing to do, why do we feel so bad?

More importantly, why am I a horrible person? After he died, I have hardly cried. I'm not as sad as what I was when he was alive, and that's really messed up. I remember back in 2002, I was a big magic: the gathering player, and I was an op in an efnet channel called #apprentice. The channel was huge, and it must of had over 200 people. I remember talking about Wally there, and there's a couple of people from there that still call me up, and ask me "how's Wally doing"? But no, he's not doing anything, he's sitting in a box, and I don't know where he is.

I'm pretty sure I can say that I'm afraid of not death itself, but what happens afterwards. There's all these questions such as "what dimension do the dead live in?" and "is there a heaven and hell?" or "is earth hell, and when you die, you're in heaven?" or "is the afterlife identical to this one but only consists of dead people?" which I won't know until I'm passed on myself.

It sounds selfish, and it is, but had we not of put him down, everything would be the same. Minus the fact that Wally would be sitting there miserable, looking at the floor, wondering what's going on, but he still would have life and he still would of been with us.

I'm in the worst position myself, being 19. My mother's 53, my aunt is 55, my grandad is 80, and my cousin is 25. Basically, my cousin doesn't want anything to do with me. My grandad has the view of "once you die, that's it, you're dead, and it's over" which really scares me, but the point is everybody is older than I am. If people in my family are going to die due to say, age, then I'm going to watch everyone die around me. It just isn't fair.

We'll probably bury him later today, but finding a time is just as hard as finding a time to put him down. It feels like... it feels like placing a time on putting him to sleep is exactly like sentencing somebody to death. Wally was definitely a somebody.

I must also confess that I prayed to god constantly. I would say things such as "God, please give Wally my strength." quite often. I'm not going to amount to much in my life, and now that Wally is gone I have absolutely no incentive to make something of myself, but I really felt that giving Wally my strength via god would keep him alive longer. I thought it would help because Wally was old, and he needed it more.

Yet another thing I will miss about Wally was when he was curled up in a ball. If you scratched his stomach properly, he would flip upside down and open up like a little flower. If you scratched/tickled a certain spot at the end of his tail, where his tailbone is, he would start licking thin air. See, he couldn't reach that part with his tongue. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach it. What was really beautiful was that he would stare in a specific direction, and start licking at absolutely nothing.

I know it sounds odd, but Wally had the illusion that he was licking the spot near his tailbone, even though he really wasn't. If you stuck your finger out while scratching that area, he would start licking your finger. He would even gnaw on your finger sometimes. If he stopped licking my finger, I would stop scratching that area. Sometimes he would start licking my finger again, and I would start scratching that area with my other hand, yet again. Total illusion, but he liked it.

In the final days, he didn't respond to scratching that spot anymore.

It's the small things like that which made me love Wally so much. It's depressing because I only remember a couple of things about my grandma, yet I was 10 when she died(1996). Basically what I'm trying to say is that, once you end up experiencing the loss of someone, the finer details as mentioned above, gradually begin to fade.

That's what I'm scared of the most. Somebody dies, people are sad, you don't forget them, but the finer details of what made them special end up becoming faded. I think that's what they mean by "faded memories."

Alas, if the antibiotics didn't make any improvement we still would of had to put him down. Everybody thought it would be for the best. Even the vet said that they don't usually leave cats with kidney failure.

My mother feels as if she killed Wally. She drove him over there, and while we did tell him he was going to be put down, and we said everything we could before he was, she still feels as if she killed him. She had to sign something minutes before it happened, and what she feels, was signing his life away.

But if we did the right thing, why does it hurt so bad?

Pictures taken of Wally between October 2005 and January 2006.

This is a tribute in loving memory of Wally Heather.
I pray that you will rest in peace and when our time has passed, we will be together again.
We will never forget you.
1988-2006

Wow dude, that's got to be the most emotional post I've ever read, and it's about a CAT! I You must have been eally attached to him. I know how hard the loss of a pet can be. I had my cat, Pepper, since I was 3 years old and he just died last year. It was realy hard for me. What's worse, is that my dog who is about 16 years old has probably not got a whole lot of life left in her, and we know that. I probably won't be able to handle it when she dies, but it's just like a death of a person, like you said. It takes time, but you'll move on. I'm very sorry for your loss and hope you can find something to fill the void that this loss must have obviously created.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Wow. Just wow man. Elixir, I read your post and it was the most I've ever read in a forum. With reading it I started crying slighty thinking about my cat Garfield. He died 8 years ago but reading this made me think of him. I feel for you man, and to post it in a forum where anyone can read, thats deep man. Hats off to you. If you happen to get another cat, speak to him/her about it. It really helps. A year or so after, I got a cat and called her Fluff. Straight away, she went into our back garden and sat where Garfield was buried. Cats must have some sort of sith sense cuz I told her thats where he was and she nodded, looked into the sky and let out a strange meow. I'll never forget that. And from reading your post, wont forget Wally

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Poor cat. ;__;

R.I.P.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Thanks for the kind words, guys.

I've started praying and talking to Wally at nights. It's really messing me up psychologically because if I hear a noise I just don't know if it's just a noise or whether it's a sign.

My mother said that if there'll be any signs that they will come by themselves. Wally was a gentle cat, so he wouldn't harm us. But since we can't be for sure whether he wanted to be put down or not(I'm aware that he walked into the gutter, and very close to the road, and that was probably a sign of him wanting to end his life) we don't know if he hates us for doing so.

Everybody is telling us, and keeps telling us, that it was the right thing to do. It still doesn't feel right and I don't think it ever will.

Just looking at those pictures makes me remember the time I spent with him. I can't believe it's gone already. I think this experience has messed me up mentally as I feel as if I've changed. I'm actually being nice to people and considering what they say which is something I almost never did prior to this happening.

I couldn't sleep last night. I've been having alot of trouble sleeping since it happened. I didn't get to sleep until 6 am last night(or morning, rather) because I was thinking of him. Tomorrow it will be a full week since we put him down, so I don't know how that will go.

I ended up waking my mother up last night, she said if I ever wanted to come in her room and talk that would be fine. About 10 minutes after leaving her room she couldn't sleep, and I basically woke the both of us up. We just talked about Wally, ghosts and stuff along those lines. I think it helped.

I never want to forget him. I don't think I will, but I remember little of my beloved others who have passed, I just don't want the same thing happening again.

How ya doing, buddy?

Do you have any pictures?

Man, I would have some serious mental issues if my cat died on me. And putting her down? I just couldn't do it.

My mother's cat just recently died, too. Her name was Tabby. I was there when she was a little baby kitten, and I held her and loved her. She lived a good long 11 year life. Her sister is still alive.

I am sorry you lost your cat. I can't imagine how HORRIBLE that would be. I am a stupid, sappy cunt.

FELIPE NO

Uh don't worry about it, I am very sure it isnt' your dead cat that is making noises or signs. I think you are just slightly exhibiting a false hope (which is natural) of a possible encounter with your cat. But you have to just let him go but hold fond memories of its being.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

Great, Sass, you just have to have a cat in your signature.

In 2001 we brought home a cat also called Tabby. Wally didn't like Tabby at all, and eventually we had to give Tabby away, which was pretty sad. I felt kind of bad because Wally probably thought he was being replaced, but that wasn't the case. We were just trying to find something to fill the gap which was Willy, as he also died in 2001.

I still wonder where Tabby is. But we can't replace Wally, he was one of a kind. It wouldn't be right to do that either, since replacing pets with other pets doesn't seem appropriate nor respectful to your passed pets.

We really didn't have much choice but to put Wally down.

He was just sitting there. Staring at the floor on his haunches, doing nothing. He was like that every day for over a week. Eventually he would pee where he was sitting, and he couldn't jump on my mother's bed. I think that's when we knew.

I think that's when most people know. If your animal can't jump or even have the strength to reach it's dirt box, it's pretty much coming to an end. I didn't want to get him put down, but I explained to Wally the best I could that he needed to be put down, and it was for the best.

Wally was pretty unhappy in his final days. He would barely eat anything, barely drink, and when he did attempt to drink it wasn't much at all. A week before this started happening, he was drinking a huge amount of water.

By the time we decided to get the vet to check him out, he was pretty dehydrated. His eyes had sunken in and there was nobody home. The Wally with the shine in his eyes and liveliness, had gone.

Actually his eyes were really scary. Sunken in, very dark, and they just didn't look right. My mother says that after he was rehydrated on the drip at the vet that, when he was on my mother's bed and my mother was petting him, he got his cats eyes back. I'm glad that he didn't die dehydrated.

After he was put down, it appeared as if his entire body was cured. He no longer had a small film of white over his eyes, he no longer looked dehydrated, and he was very soft.

I do have alot of pictures of Wally. After Willy died, I made a habit of taking pictures of Wally and I have a disposable camera sitting on my desk full of pictures. I must get them developed soon.

At the moment we have roughly 15 pictures of him, but that was between the period of october of last year(before/when he had his teeth out) and between october and march. The rest of them are on a few cameras throughout the house.

Jam it back in, in the dark.