The Untimely Death

Dedicated to the memory of my friend’s cat, Yoda, 
who died an “untimely” death - the sudden death 
that comes too soon and with no warning. 

You leave the house one day to take your son to a Boy Scout event. Your cat is lounging lazily on the back porch. You drive away from the house with a sense of security, knowing that the day is proceeding along as planned. Later, you come home to learn that your beloved cat was attacked by a roaming dog. Your husband rushed him to the animal clinic, but it was too late, the wounds too severe. The cat had to be euthanized.

Or perhaps you arrive home, quick to open the front door, knowing that you have to let your dog out to relieve herself. That’s your routine, after being out of the house for several hours – nothing spectacular. You turn away from the door for a second, the phone rings. You turn your back and you look out the front door to see your dog running off. You call her, but she doesn’t respond, so you follow her. She reaches the road before you do, and as you approach, your pet is fatally hit by a car. Your heart beats faster as you stand there stunned. You only turned away for a second…

These are stories of “the untimely death”. They are stories of pets that have passed, and the grief-stricken owners they left behind. The owners, robbed too soon of their animal companion, are also robbed of closure with their pet, a time to say, “Good-bye”.

For these pet owners, grief is compounded by the lack of closure. One moment they are sharing their lives with a healthy animal; a moment later, that bond is shattered. The shock of sudden death is overwhelming. Our immediate reaction is that it can’t be true- our reaction to the obvious reality that lies before us. We try to rationalize why this happened, with no resolve. Afterwards, we feel twinges of guilt; “what if…?” “I should have…” “Maybe if I…” We’re unsure of what to think. Our grief is confused, empty, our thoughts perseverate. We are left frustrated, seeking answers to no avail. Our minds spin with the jarring sense that we should have had control over a situation, when we ultimately had none.

These are the thoughts that haunt us for years to come. Years after we’ve adopted other animals, changed jobs, maybe spouses. Our minds travel back to the animal lost from our lives, the one that meant so much to us, the one we ultimately feel that we let down.

And when we sense the feelings of letting down our beloved pet, our family member, our confidante and friend, we become disappointed in ourselves. Will we ever rebound from those haunting, lingering thoughts?

It is difficult to accept the unpredictable, and maybe, to some degree, our own errors and human frailty. We try to do the best we can. But we have obligations to others that we must uphold. We become tired, careless, and rushed by many competing demands, all of which draws on our attention. And there is always fate of which we have no control, leading us to that one fleeing moment, the one we will never totally understand, the one that leads us to our loss, the loss that leaves a hole in our hearts for the loved one taken from us. That loss is replaced with disturbing thoughts that fail, even over time, to leave us. The thoughts from which there is no relief; the ones that offer no peace.

Sometimes, it is just their time.
Sometimes, there are no answers.
Sometimes, it just doesn’t make sense.

Forgive yourself first. Make peace with the restless thoughts that plaque you. Turn off the burden of persistent thoughts. Give up the vein hope of controlling the future. Accept yourself for who you are - mistakes, responsibilities, obligations and all. And know that you don’t determine when an animal’s time to pass has come; the animal does.