How am I supposed to get over losing the one who got me through every other loss in my adult life?
Vincy wasn't just a pet...my fur babies never are. He was my ride or die. Nineteen years of "us against the world" will do that to a relationship. For a long time, it really was just the two of us...building a life, chasing big (slightly aggressive) dreams, always climbing to attain the next goal, and loving each other through it all...even when the road hurt like hell.
There were far too many times he held down the palace alone while I was out "making the donuts." Somehow, it worked. It was our way of taking on the world, and we flourished in it. There were so many incredible moments in those years...belly laughs, quiet nights, small victories that, in retrospect, were milestone moments. There were hard times, too...really hard times. Divorce. Building two demanding careers. Losing people I loved. Health scares. All those unexpected changes that initiate a level-set and require a faithful and loyal companion to overcome.
Through every single one of those moments, he was there. He was steady, loyal, and always unshaken. He was the one constant when everything else felt like it was slipping away from me.
Then Brad and Midge came along.
I can't lie...it took some time and a trust fall or two. Brad, who "hated cats" suddenly found himself negotiating emotional terms with one. Midge and Vince weren't exactly instant besties either, but they eventually found their rhythm...just in time to add the human kids to the mix.
When that happened, Vincy...sweet, set-in-his-ways Vincy...had opinions. Especially about the tiny human who was absolutely obsessed with his ttttttt tail.
I don't know what I expected. He had already generously allowed me to expand our little kingdom. Thankfully, in time, he did what he always did...he adapted...he softened...he loved...and somehow, he found his way into each of them, too.
His bond with Kade was something truly special. Once Kade figured out how to sit still and let the cats come to him, Vincy realized he had unlocked an unlimited petting machine. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, and honestly, one of the sweetest things I've ever seen.
Then came Nashville.
My shadow. My emotional support sidekick. My second heartbeat. My best friend.
From the very beginning, Vincy and Nash hit it off like brothers who didn't need much of an introduction. They chased each other, wrestled, had the occasional dramatic standoff (as brothers do), but there was always a quiet understanding between them. Vincy knew I needed Nash. I needed someone to fill the gaps when he needed his space - because after nearly two decades, he had absolutely earned his "do not disturb" hours.
In 2019 everything almost changed.
Vincy got incredibly sick. He was weak and couldn't keep food down. I was absolutely terrified. I became a full-time nurse overnight - force-feeding him, syringing water down his throat every thirty minutes like a sleep-deprived, emotionally fragile lunatic who was fueled entirely by love and a stubborn refusal to let him go.
This went on for almost two weeks...and then...a miracle happened and we figured out what was wrong with him. He had developed an allergy to his food. His own food had turned on him. We changed it, held our breath, and just like that...my baby came back to me. Stronger and happier than ever, like nothing had ever happened.
Classic Vincy! Nine lives? Please...he was working on at least twelve. I've got some stories!!
Then COVID hit, and suddenly the world slowed down whether we liked it or not. In that strange, uncertain time, we got something unexpected...so much more time together.
Workdays turned into a daily competition for my lap between Nash and Vincy. Vince usually won. Nashy tried, but let's face it - he is not small and my lap is not huge. Not to mention, Vincy had seniority, and he knew it.
Those long, quiet days of him curled up on me while the world outside felt like it was unraveling...those are moments I will hold close in my heart forever.
Leaving Evergreen was hard on both of us. That was his kingdom...his palace...his favorite place in the world, especially when I was home. But...life called us somewhere else, and we answered.
That led to our move to Parker.
My boys didn't miss a beat. They claimed every inch of the new house like seasoned real estate investors. Just like that, it became our home.
Now, everywhere I look I see him.
These past few days have been BRUTAL!!
He was old. He had some arthritis. Slower, sure - but still his social, active self. He was still greeting me at the door, showing up in the kitchen like he had urgent business to discuss, and still making everything better simply by existing.
Then, last Friday morning something shifted.
He was struggling to walk. His eyes didn't look quite right. Something in my gut whispered what I didn't want to hear. I was not ready to even think about this.
Over the weekend, things declined so fast. Much too fast. He was still trying - eating, drinking, greeting us, making his way upstairs like the stubborn, determined soul he's always been. Sooo...we told ourselves maybe it was just stiffness. Maybe he would bounce back like he always has in the past.
Sadly, by Sunday night he could barely stand.
We called a mobile vet (thank you for the amazing referral, Wilma). I mean this with my whole heart - this man was an angel. He answered my 8pm phone call on a Sunday like it was a call from his best friend. He was kind, gentle, and ready whenever we were.
I know there was no version of me that was EVER going to be ready.
Brad and I looked at V, really looked at him, and knew what we had to do. His dignity and quality of life were rapidly declining because he couldn't freely move on his own anymore.
That's when we made the hardest decision I've ever had to make.
I scheduled the visit for the next morning and then spent the entire night exactly how it was mean to be spent - just the two of us. It was like old times. We snuggled up, I loved on him, and we watched reruns of his favorite show (Golden Girls...because he really loved those ladies).
He slept, but I didn't. I held him and watched his calm breathing all night long. We had those hours. Those quiet, sacred hours were ours.
When the rest of the house woke up, we gathered together. We held him, told stories, cried, and loved him as loudly and fully as we possibly could.
He had his favorite treat (cheese). Like mother, like son.
When the vet arrived, I greeted him as "The Angel of Death"...because humor is my coping mechanism and I refuse to abandon it, even in my most tragic moments. We laughed...we cried...we talked through the process.
We moved Vincy to his favorite spot by the fireplace, wrapped him in his cave blanky, and made him comfortable.
And then...in the most beautifully painful moment...we let him go.
I've been through this before, but never like this. Never with love this deep and loss this heavy.
He looked at me, buried his head into my hand, and in that moment, there was this unspoken understanding between us.
We both knew it was time. Our worldly path together was coming to an end.
When he took his last breath, it felt like I forgot how to take mine.
All I could think about was how unbelievably unfair it is that these souls who give us everything don't get nearly enough time here. I kept thinking how unfair it is that we are the ones who have to make that excruciatingly hard call. We have to decide when, where, and how.
I was also thinking about how unfair it is that we are given the ability to give them this final act of selfless love...while knowing they could never do the same for us.
Perhaps that's the point? Because Vincy did give me everything...in every other way that mattered. He carried me through heartbreak, loss, and countless times of uncertainty. He was my constant, my calm, my comfort.
Now, I have to figure out how to walk through this without him.
I have to learn how to grieve without the one who always got me through grief.
I choose to believe he's in a better place. He's somewhere peaceful, curled up in the lap of the one who carries all of us when we can't carry ourselves.
Vincy, I miss you more than worlds can express.
You were the very best boy. My first true partner. My forever ride or die.
We love you beyond measure.
Fly high, sweet angel. 💔
