u/Katanddennis

Our wonderful Dennis passed suddenly 16 days ago. It came as a shock, and I’m still processing his last day and moments.
I’ve mourned cats deeply when they have passed away, but have a much stronger sense of Dennis still being “around”.
I feel tremendous guilt, crushing grief, and a sadness that I’ve not known with the loss of some people. I’d like to know, if anyone can tell me if there’s anything he’s trying to communicate.

Thank you. ✨

He was ten years and three months old. I’ve known him from being a week old, when I visited my friends foster facility. Dennis died suddenly, in the early hours of Sunday morning and I’m really struggling to process, am constantly ugly crying and am dealing with the inevitable sense of guilt. (Which is apparently normal but no less a horrible part of the process)
Dennis was in apparent good health, and the only long term surviving member of his litter. He had a mild murmur, which we’d always kept an eye on. His brother Alfred passed away at 2/3, from seizures. I’m aware there may be a genetic link, possibly HCM. The entire litter were malnourished as kittens, wearing little jumpers/sweaters for their first few months. As you can see though, Dennis ended up a hefty and solid boi.
During the UK heatwaves, we kept an extra eye on him, as he liked to bake in the sunbeams and on windowsills. All curtains have stayed shut for the summer, additional bowls and fountains of water have been placed all around the house. He loved himself a cooling mat. An eagle eye was kept on his body language and habits. He ate and drank well, apart from one point early June when he seemed lethargic. The vet confirmed possible heat related, and he resumed his usual vibrancy from that point. (But eating less on the VERY hot days) he was given a checking over and we were assured he was otherwise fine.
On Saturday, he was lethargic again. I gently hand fed him, made sure he drank well. He was otherwise still playful and affectionate, slow blinking and being his usual cute self.
I woke on Sunday morning around 6 am, he was cuddled up with me but jumped off the bed, lay down on the floor for a moment, then made his way out into the hallway. Within seconds he made an audible sound, a wail I will never forget. I looked over and through the open door I could only see his legs and tail, the former of which he tensed up and stretched. In another nanosecond I was with him, I saw one deep breath and then he was gone. Shortly after, some clear fluid tinged with a tiny bit of his food came out of his mouth.

My daughter didn’t want a necropsy, she found the idea unsettling but he is being cremated and returned to us. I keep telling myself it was quick. I keep berating myself I should have done more. Noticed more. Checked more. Cuddled more. Loved more. Known more. The what ifs are eating me up.

The relentless searching for answers online take up so much of my time. Sobbing at every turn, same. We lost my beloved Derby 3 years ago to what seemed to be saddle thrombosis, age 9. That was also quick, and as soon as we noticed the leg wobbles we took him to the vet. The nurturing soul that he was, was grooming me as I carried him to the car (that part forever breaks me) he seized en route to the hospital, and was DOA.
And since, with my children then moving out it’s just been Dennis and me here. He became so exclusively integrated into my routine, and made up the very fabric of the home. Every sight, smell, surface reminds me of him. He claimed it ALL.

My children and others who knew and loved him are naturally bereft, and we are coming up with myriad additional ways to honour him. (Today I’m going to leave the house- hard in itself right now, to buy fabric and bits to mend the sofa corner in a way that will still make it his. Cat fabrics and patches. I keep finding teeny bits of the foam around the house. His ONLY flaw, hating actual scratch posts and I was never mad about this) He was the ultimate cuddle bug. Befriended everyone. Great with his vet visits always, his affectionate temperament always being commented on.

Compounding this, is that I lost my sister a few months ago so am already in a grief state. Dennis fulfilled my need to still actively nurture on the daily, keep my house as a loving home and now I’m bouncing off the walls with loss and confusion and feeling so ridiculously alone. That’s so hard in a home that was always noisy and vibrant and saturated with love. We joked about Dennis being my “baby boy” as I came to terms with my incredible children taking flight into their adult lives. I’m a long term single parent.

I cannot pinpoint the exact reasons this loss feels so additionally hard. But it is. He was a weird and hilariously funny little soul, my shadow, my excitement at rushing home and opening the door to be greeted and told about it being treat time. Each part of the day comes with the aching sense of loss. Getting out of bed feels so pointless. I don’t know where else to put this love. My body keeps moving to go seek him, before my mind catches up. His character permeated not only the hearts of us all and many who knew him, but the very fabric of these walls.