Tragic loss of my two buddies
In the past two months I've lost two pets. I thought coping with one was hard, but losing another just magnifies them both.
First I lost my cat "Kitty", she was only 2 years old. I found her pregnant mother outside of a Wal-Mart when I was in college. I could tell she was pregnant so I couldn't just leave her there. I brought her back to my apartment and took care of her while she was waiting for her kittens. She had 6 kittens in all and lost half of them due to malnutrition. The three that survived were tiny and their future didn't look too bright. Almost all of my spending money for the year went towards keeping them healthy. After they were all completely healthy I knew i couldn't keep all of them and started looking for homes for them. When I was down to my last kitten i couldn't see myself parting with her. I decided to keep her and find her mother a new home. I named her Kitty for the lack of a better name but she was donned with many nicknames. Kitty was a stray and she knew it, she loved to be outside. She would spend all day looking for mice, rabbits and, chipmunks to present to me as a gift. She packed confidance in a tiny frame, at two years old she only weighed roughly 8 pounds and would go toe-to-toe with my weimaraner and yellow lab. Unforutanely I live in a rural area and cyotes rule the night. One day Kitty never came home and I've been heart broken ever since. I try not to imagine what exactly happened to her and how terrified she was but I cant help it. She's in a better place now and I try to find comfort in that.
As if losing my cat wasnt enough. One month after losing my cat, my yellow lab Frankie also went to Rainbow Bridge. My family adopted Frankie in 1995 from a young lady who lived in an apartment and couldn't take care of him any more. At the time i was in 5th grade and my house had just burnt down. Frankie provided much needed comfort through-out the long haul of getting resettled. We have trained and hunted with all of our dogs and Frankie wasn't the exception. Frankie was probably the best retriever I've ever had and was always and asset to a good hunt. The last time we went hunting Frankie was really excited because he hadn't been out in a while. As usual he was at his best and rerieved every bird that was downed. As we were packing up my cousin accidently slipped and his gun went off. The sound of his yelp still haunts me, Frankie took a 12 gauge to the chest. It didnt take long for him to pass and it was really hard on me. I feel so guilty, I dont know what to do with myself.