Have you ever had a pet who knew your business better than your therapist?
Have you ever cried into fur that cost less than therapy but worked twice as fast?
Have you ever realized the one creature who loved you most was also the one judging you silently while you ate snacks in bed at 2 a.m.?
Have you ever lost a pet and felt like a tiny, furry piece of your soul got packed into a little invisible suitcase and walked out with them?
Today was one of the hardest days of my life. I lost my first adult pet. My first cat. My emotional support loaf of bread with legs. His name was Swissy.
Swissy was not just a cat. He was a roommate. A therapist. A security guard. A tiny, judgmental husband who never paid rent but somehow still owned the house. From the moment I first saw him, I thought he was going to be a white cat. You know how life works. You think you’re getting one thing and God hands you something slightly different and way more perfect. He immediately attached himself to me like Velcro with feelings.
He loved me. I mean really loved me. Not fake Instagram love. Not “I’ll call you back” love. Real love. The kind where he gave kisses, snuggled every night, and would literally hold my hand while we slept. I have dated men who would not even hold my hand at dinner. Meanwhile, this cat was out here acting like we were in a Nicholas Sparks movie.
He was protective too. If anyone came near me, he would look at them like, “Are you here to love her or ruin her life? Choose carefully.” He had a cute face, a loving personality, and the comedic timing of a seasoned stand-up. He was a character. He loved food. This cat treated mealtime like it was an Olympic sport. If there were a gold medal for hearing a treat bag from three rooms away, Swissy would have been on the podium with the national anthem playing.
The day before I left for Hawaii, I noticed some breathing issues. You know that moment when you hear something and your brain goes into denial mode. I told myself maybe he just ran too fast. Maybe he was being dramatic. Honestly, if there were an award for dramatic breathing, I would win it too, so I gave him grace. It went away later that day. Then the next morning I heard it again. That little sound that says something is not right.
I had my assistant take him to the vet. They did an X-ray and bloodwork. They found a mass in his lungs. My stomach dropped. You know that feeling when your heart falls into your feet and you suddenly become aware that life can change in one sentence. Today I took him to the ER. They found fluid. They found kidney stones. They found a mass that resembled cancer. Everything was happening fast. Too fast.
I spent time alone with him before he passed. Just me and him. No phone. No distractions. No pretending to be strong. Just love. I sang to him. Yes, I sang. Did I sound good? No. Did he care? Also no. He looked at me with those eyes that said, “You have always been a little crazy but you are my crazy.” He kept loving me back. Even in that moment, when his body was tired, his heart was still loving me.
Swissy gave me unconditional love. And I do not use that phrase lightly. This cat saw me through everything. Through pain. Through chaos. Through career changes. Through moments when I felt so low I did not know how I was going to get up the next day. There were times when I wanted to give up on everything. Life can get heavy. Life can get dark. And somehow this tiny creature would curl up next to me and remind me that I was not alone.
He did not care about my success. He did not care about my mistakes. He did not care about my schedule. He cared about me. He loved me when I was crying. He loved me when I was laughing. He loved me when I was stressed. He loved me when I was eating snacks I said I would not eat. He loved me when I was at my best and when I was at my absolute worst.
There is something holy about that kind of love. Something pure. Something that reminds you what love is supposed to look like. No conditions. No contracts. No fine print. Just presence.
I remember all the nights he would snuggle with me. All the times he would hold my hand. All the random moments he would look at me like I was the most important person in the world. That is the thing about pets. They make you feel chosen. Out of everyone on this planet, they pick you. They decide you are their person.
Today I had to say goodbye. And let me tell you something. There is no training for that moment. There is no YouTube tutorial called “How to Not Fall Apart When Your Cat Crosses Over.” You just sit there with your heart in your throat and your eyes full of tears and you try to be strong for them even though they have always been strong for you.
I told him I loved him. Over and over. I thanked him for every cuddle, every kiss, every moment he kept me going when I felt like I could not go on. I thanked him for being there in seasons of my life that were messy and complicated and painful. He was there through it all. Quietly loving. Quietly supporting. Quietly being the most loyal little soul.
Losing a pet is strange. The house feels different. The air feels different. You expect to hear their little footsteps or see them curled up somewhere. You catch yourself looking for them. And then you remember. And it hurts all over again. Grief comes in waves. One minute you are okay and the next minute you are crying because you saw a food bowl.
But there is also gratitude. So much gratitude. Because not everyone gets a Swissy. Not everyone gets that kind of unconditional love in physical form. I got to experience it. I got to be loved by him for over a decade. That is a gift. A messy, emotional, beautiful gift.
If you have a pet right now, go hug them. Yes, even if they just threw up on your carpet. Go love them. Hold them. Tell them they are your favorite roommate. Because these little souls come into our lives and change us. They teach us how to love without conditions. They teach us how to show up. They teach us how to be present.
Swissy, I will never forget you. Thank you for being you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for holding my hand through so many storms. You kept me strong when I felt weak. You kept me going when I wanted to stop. You were not just a cat. You were family. You were comfort. You were home.
And even though today hurts, I know love like that does not disappear. It just changes form. It becomes memories. It becomes lessons. It becomes a reminder to love the people and the pets in our lives a little harder while we can.
The lesson we can all take from this is simple. Love while you have the chance. Show up for the ones who show up for you. Do not wait to say thank you. Do not wait to cuddle. Do not wait to appreciate the quiet love that holds you together when life falls apart. Because the greatest loves in our lives are often the smallest and furriest and they leave the biggest paw prints on our hearts.
Swissy, I love you so much. You will be greatly missed. But you will never be forgotten.
Remember you are my lovers, whether you love me or love to hate me you are still my lover!
Don’t forget Jesus loves you and so do I!