u/apk772

I can’t bring myself to give away any of BeBe’s things—her food, scratching posts, toys, little stairs, blankets, or any of the other things that were hers.
I know there are rescues and other cats that could use them, and maybe someday I’ll be able to donate some of it. But right now, I just can’t.
I finally washed my bedding, but when I made the bed, I put BeBe’s little bed right back in its usual spot, almost as if she’s still here and will come curl up in it again.
I lost her last week, and I think part of me needs her things to stay exactly where they were. The thought of removing them makes the house feel even emptier and makes her being gone feel too final.
Has anyone else left their pet’s things untouched after losing them? How long did it take before you were ready to move or give anything away? 💔

BeBe is home, but not in the way I wanted her to come home. She is home in ashes.
When I saw her cremation certificate with her name on it, the reality of everything hit me so hard that I started hyperventilating. I couldn’t believe that piece of paper was actually for my baby.
I immediately put BeBe in her bed on top of mine, right alongside her older brother, Mish, who passed away nine months ago. BeBe and Mish were raised together from the time they were only weeks old. In all those years, they never fought. Not once. They simply loved each other.
So now they’re together again.
I’ve made their bed into a memorial, and it’s staying on my bed forever. I painted Mish’s portrait on a Santorini stone after he passed, and now I’m going to paint BeBe on one too. I’m also going to have BeBe’s portrait painted on canvas by the same professional artist who painted Mish. I want my two babies together in every way I can still have them.
My husband and I have been married less than a year, and for now we each have our own home while I look for the right next-gen house for us. Today I asked him not to visit or call. I’ve set my alarms so I’ll know if anyone comes. I don’t want company. I don’t want conversation. I don’t want anyone asking me how I’m doing.
I just want to stay in bed with my children.
I miss them so much that sometimes I wish I could be wherever they are. I would never hurt myself, but the grief is so overwhelming that there are moments when I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know how I’m supposed to accept that both of the little lives that shared my home, my bed, and my heart are now in these boxes beside me.
For now, I’m just lying here with BeBe and Mish.
My babies are together again. I just wish they were together here with me the way they used to be. 💔🐾

I’m afraid to pick up BeBe’s ashes
The vet called me two days ago to tell me that BeBe’s ashes are ready to be picked up, and ever since that phone call, I’ve been hiding in my room.
I know I need to go get her. I want her home with me. But the thought of walking into the vet and leaving with a box instead of my little girl absolutely terrifies me. I don’t know why, but hearing that her ashes were ready suddenly made everything feel so final and real.
I keep thinking, I’m going to pick up my dead kitty. And I just can’t handle that thought. I want BeBe back alive. I want to bring her home, not her ashes.
I’m also taking everything out on my husband. I’ve asked him not to talk to me because every time he asks if I need anything, I snap at him viciously. I even told him that if he says one more thing to me, I’m moving out. I know he’s only trying to help, but right now I cannot tolerate questions, conversation, or even someone trying to comfort me. I just want to be left alone.
I feel like I’m avoiding something I know I eventually have to do, but I honestly don’t know how I’m going to walk into that vet’s office and pick up BeBe’s ashes without completely falling apart.
For those of you who have gone through this, how did you make yourself go pick up your baby’s ashes? Did you go alone? Did someone else pick them up for you? Did bringing them home give you any sense of comfort?
Right now, I’m scared to go get her, but at the same time, I hate knowing she’s there waiting for me.
I just want my BeBe back. 💔

Does anyone here paint kindness rocks to give to nursing homes, children’s hospitals, cancer centers, or other places where someone might need a little encouragement? ❤️
I also love painting them and leaving them around the community for strangers to find. There’s something special about knowing that a small painted rock with a kind message might brighten someone’s day when they need it most.
I’d love to hear where you leave or donate yours and what kinds of messages you paint on them. 🪨❤️

posted yesterday that I keep hearing BeBe meow. I shared it because it felt different, even though over the years I’ve had experiences where I felt I saw my grandparents, my mom, my dad, and my brother after they passed.
Last night, I was lying in bed reading a book when I heard BeBe meowing again. But this time, I heard something else too—I heard Mish meowing in the living room. It honestly sounded like the two of them were chasing each other and playing.
I got up and went into the living room, but by the time I got there, everything was completely quiet. I went back to bed and started reading again.
Then it happened again.
This time, instead of thinking it was strange or wondering whether my mind was playing tricks on me, I felt an incredible sense of comfort. I thought maybe, in whatever way is possible, they were letting me know that they had found each other again—and that they were still with me, just not in the flesh.
I know grief can do extraordinary things to our senses and memories, and I can’t explain what happened. Maybe there is a perfectly ordinary explanation. But right now, I don’t really need to explain it.
For a few moments, my home didn’t feel so painfully empty. I could almost picture Mish and BeBe together again, chasing each other around like old times. And after everything these past few days, that brought me a little bit of peace.
Whatever it was, I’m choosing to hold onto that feeling. ❤️🐾🐾

What does everyone do with all their spider plant spiderettes? I have so many, and I hate the thought of throwing them away. Everyone I know already has more than they want. Any creative ideas for what to do with them? 🌱

posted yesterday that I keep hearing BeBe meow. I shared it because it felt different, even though over the years I’ve had experiences where I felt I saw my grandparents, my mom, my dad, and my brother after they passed.
Last night, I was lying in bed reading a book when I heard BeBe meowing again. But this time, I heard something else too—I heard Mish meowing in the living room. It honestly sounded like the two of them were chasing each other and playing.
I got up and went into the living room, but by the time I got there, everything was completely quiet. I went back to bed and started reading again.
Then it happened again.
This time, instead of thinking it was strange or wondering whether my mind was playing tricks on me, I felt an incredible sense of comfort. I thought maybe, in whatever way is possible, they were letting me know that they had found each other again—and that they were still with me, just not in the flesh.
I know grief can do extraordinary things to our senses and memories, and I can’t explain what happened. Maybe there is a perfectly ordinary explanation. But right now, I don’t really need to explain it.
For a few moments, my home didn’t feel so painfully empty. I could almost picture Mish and BeBe together again, chasing each other around like old times. And after everything these past few days, that brought me a little bit of peace.
Whatever it was, I’m choosing to hold onto that feeling. ❤️🐾🐾

I lost my sweet BeBe just a few days ago, and something has been happening that I wasn’t expecting. I keep hearing her meow.
Sometimes it sounds so real and so much like her that for a split second I expect to turn around and see her there. I know how every one of her little sounds was different—when she wanted food, when she wanted me, or when she was simply letting me know she was there.
My home is so quiet without her, but every once in a while, I swear I hear that familiar little voice.
Has anyone else experienced this after losing a beloved pet? Did you hear their meow, bark, footsteps, or other familiar sounds after they were gone?
Part of me wonders whether my mind is simply so accustomed to listening for her that it hasn’t caught up with the fact that she’s gone. Another part of me doesn’t really care why it happens. For those few seconds, it feels like my little girl is still close to me. ❤️🐾🌈

I’m suffering with neuropathy, and I’m having a difficult time finding something I can tolerate.
My doctor prescribed Requip, but it makes me yawn continuously for hours. I was also given gabapentin, but it knocks me out completely. I don’t want to spend my days exhausted or sleeping just to get some relief.
For those of you who also suffer from neuropathy, what has actually helped you? Have you found another medication with fewer side effects, a topical treatment, physical therapy, TENS, or anything else that made a noticeable difference?
I’m not looking to replace my doctor’s advice or start taking something on my own. I’d just like to hear about other people’s experiences so I have some options to discuss with my doctor.
Neuropathy can be absolutely miserable, and I’d really appreciate hearing what’s worked—or hasn’t worked—for others. ❤️

I keep wondering if there is something we can do for our cats from the time they are kittens that might help protect their kidneys later in life.
It seems like so many of us are eventually losing our beloved cats to this awful disease. CKD can be so quiet in the beginning that by the time we realize something is wrong, significant kidney function may already be gone.
Could starting certain habits when they’re young make a difference? More wet food? Encouraging them to drink more water? Regular urine and blood testing as they get older? Are there dietary choices we should be making—or things we should be avoiding—from kittenhood onward?
I know there may be no way to completely prevent CKD, especially since age itself is a major risk factor. But I can’t help wondering whether there is more we could be doing before our cats ever become sick, rather than learning everything about kidney disease after we’re already fighting it.
I’ve learned more about feline kidneys than I ever wanted to know, and I wish I’d known some of it years earlier.
For those of you who have been through CKD with your cats—or veterinarians and vet techs who may be here—if you were bringing home a kitten today, what would you do from day one to give their kidneys the best chance possible? ❤️🐾

My little girl left this world peacefully at home. This was the hardest thing I have ever had to do with a pet.
The doctor was incredibly kind and walked me through every single step of the euthanasia process. I held Bebe in my arms for a long time, talking to her and loving her, until it was time for the second injection. She was peaceful, and she looked just as beautiful as the day I got her when she was only six weeks old.
She was my first female kitty. Smart as a pistol, full of personality, and an excellent hunter on the rare occasions she managed to sneak outside without me knowing. She was loving, independent, stubborn, funny, and completely unforgettable.
For so many years, she wasn’t simply my cat. She was my little girl, my companion, my family, and such a huge part of my everyday life. My routines revolved around her. I knew every little sound she made, every look she gave me, and exactly what she wanted before she even had to ask.
I wanted so badly to keep her with me, but her little body couldn’t keep fighting. Loving her meant making the decision I never wanted to make. I promised her I wouldn’t let her suffer just because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
Tonight my home feels painfully quiet and empty. I keep expecting to see her in her favorite places or hear her asking me for something. I don’t know yet how I’m supposed to get used to a world without Bebe in it.
I hope wherever she is, she has found Mish. I like to imagine the two of them together again, healthy and free from everything their little bodies went through.
Thank you, Bebe, for every single day you gave me. I would have taken a thousand more if I could.
Sleep peacefully, my beautiful little girl. You were loved beyond words, right up until your very last breath—and you always will be. 💔🌈🐾

I have decided that at-home euthanasia will be easier and more peaceful for my Bebe. The ride to the vet’s office causes her a lot of anxiety, and she gets very scared. I don’t want her final moments to be filled with fear or stress.
I have never gone through at-home euthanasia before, and I honestly don’t know what to expect or how I should prepare for it.
For those of you who have been through this with your beloved pet, is there anything you did beforehand that helped make the experience more peaceful or comfortable? Is there anything you wish you had known or done differently?
Any suggestions or personal experiences would be deeply appreciated. ❤️

Bebe is off all of her medications now. We have until Friday, when I have to say goodbye to her. Every second that passes feels like another little piece of my heart breaking. I simply cannot imagine my life without her. Part of me wishes I could go with her because the thought of being here without her feels unbearable.
Bebe has always loved watermelon. Yesterday I went to Trader Joe’s and picked out a very small one just for her. I gave her a little of the juice, and suddenly I remembered when she was younger. She could smell me cutting watermelon from wherever she was in the house. She would come running, jump on the counter, and try to get to it.
This morning, as soon as she saw me, she walked into the kitchen and asked me for watermelon.
Those are the things that are breaking me. The tiny routines and memories that seem so ordinary until you realize you’re about to lose them forever. There will come a morning when she won’t be there asking me for watermelon, and I don’t know how my heart is supposed to accept that.
I don’t want her to suffer. A feeding tube or surgery isn’t going to heal what is wrong with her, and I know I can’t put her through procedures simply because I’m terrified of losing her. Since coming off her medications, she mostly lies on her condo and sleeps.
But my mind still keeps searching: There must be something else. There has to be something we haven’t tried. Her vet has told me there isn’t.
Bebe is everything I have left to love in my life. I know that letting her go peacefully is an act of love, but knowing that doesn’t make this hurt any less.
I don’t know how I’m going to make it through Friday, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to come home afterward to a home without my girl in it.

It is with a broken heart and more sorrow than I can put into words that I share that my precious Bebe is scheduled for euthanasia.
Her vet has told me that we have reached the point where none of the treatment plans are working. Bebe still won’t eat her regular food and cannot survive on treats alone. She told me that she knows how incredibly diligent I have been with Bebe and that I have done everything I possibly could for her.
I have fought so hard for my little girl. I researched, asked questions, tried different medications, changed foods, watched every little change in her behavior, and held on to every tiny sign of hope. I would do anything in this world if it meant I could make her well again.
But I am beginning to understand that loving her also means knowing when to stop asking her to keep fighting for me.
My heart is shattered. After losing Mish, Bebe became an even more precious piece of my heart. The thought of saying goodbye to her feels unbearable. My home, my routines, my days and my nights all have Bebe woven into them. I honestly don’t know what life without her beside me is going to feel like.
I wish love alone could heal her. If it could, Bebe would live forever.
So now, instead of asking her to fight, I am going to spend our remaining time loving her. I will brush her, hold her, talk to her, give her all the treats she wants, and tell her over and over again what a wonderful little girl she has been and how incredibly loved she is.
And when the time comes, as much as it is going to destroy my heart, I will be right there with her.
She will not leave this world wondering whether she was loved.
She will know. ❤️🐾
My beautiful Bebe. Always.

It is with a broken heart and more sorrow than I can put into words that I share that my precious Bebe is scheduled for euthanasia.
Her vet has told me that we have reached the point where none of the treatment plans are working. Bebe still won’t eat her regular food and cannot survive on treats alone. She told me that she knows how incredibly diligent I have been with Bebe and that I have done everything I possibly could for her.
I have fought so hard for my little girl. I researched, asked questions, tried different medications, changed foods, watched every little change in her behavior, and held on to every tiny sign of hope. I would do anything in this world if it meant I could make her well again.
But I am beginning to understand that loving her also means knowing when to stop asking her to keep fighting for me.
My heart is shattered. After losing Mish, Bebe became an even more precious piece of my heart. The thought of saying goodbye to her feels unbearable. My home, my routines, my days and my nights all have Bebe woven into them. I honestly don’t know what life without her beside me is going to feel like.
I wish love alone could heal her. If it could, Bebe would live forever.
So now, instead of asking her to fight, I am going to spend our remaining time loving her. I will brush her, hold her, talk to her, give her all the treats she wants, and tell her over and over again what a wonderful little girl she has been and how incredibly loved she is.
And when the time comes, as much as it is going to destroy my heart, I will be right there with her.
She will not leave this world wondering whether she was loved.
She will know. ❤️🐾
My beautiful Bebe. Always.

It is with a broken heart and more sorrow than I can put into words that I share that my precious Bebe is scheduled for euthanasia.
Her vet has told me that we have reached the point where none of the treatment plans are working. Bebe still won’t eat her regular food and cannot survive on treats alone. She told me that she knows how incredibly diligent I have been with Bebe and that I have done everything I possibly could for her.
I have fought so hard for my little girl. I researched, asked questions, tried different medications, changed foods, watched every little change in her behavior, and held on to every tiny sign of hope. I would do anything in this world if it meant I could make her well again.
But I am beginning to understand that loving her also means knowing when to stop asking her to keep fighting for me.
My heart is shattered. After losing Mish, Bebe became an even more precious piece of my heart. The thought of saying goodbye to her feels unbearable. My home, my routines, my days and my nights all have Bebe woven into them. I honestly don’t know what life without her beside me is going to feel like.
I wish love alone could heal her. If it could, Bebe would live forever.
So now, instead of asking her to fight, I am going to spend our remaining time loving her. I will brush her, hold her, talk to her, give her all the treats she wants, and tell her over and over again what a wonderful little girl she has been and how incredibly loved she is.
And when the time comes, as much as it is going to destroy my heart, I will be right there with her.
She will not leave this world wondering whether she was loved.
She will know. ❤️🐾
My beautiful Bebe. Always.

I'm supposed to eat healthier due to high cholesterol (237) exercise 4 times a week. I don't like vegetables, and only some fruits. Chicken is ok. I don't like turkey or tofu. Any simple recipes you might be able to share?