Sure it's always easier when you have seen it coming, -when it was foreseeable. But it isn't nice.
When you get yourself a pet, especially one with a higher life expectancy, prepare yourself that you'll have to let go again and say good bye, one day. No fitting emoji for that flat, numb feeling.
When i was 13 and having troubles at school with focussing in class and stuff, getting fed Ritalin, my mom got use two kittens, one of which didn't make it too long; Krümel ('Crumble') and Mauzi (German name of Meowth). It was the latter of which who, in her hunger, bit off the tip of a feeding bottle and got a hefty shot of the milk down her lungs, which led to pneumonia, which in turn got spotted a little too late. Krümel, then, made it. At that time, i had hefty issues with with my sleep, the biorhythm and an unbalanced daily energy circle, which led to intense frustration and and downright depression-ish states; so my mom told me, given how my brain tends to discard a lot of memories. But for whatever the exact reason was, ever since Krümel was there, so she told me, i had changed. My outbursts of anger at rather slight or minor causes, resulting in me hitting myself, ceased, perhaps thanks to that i had something else to focus on, what with the cats needing to get take care of, of course. Or at least, they mostly ceased; there were still times when i got to the boiling point in a blink, and as much as i loved Krümel and took care of her for ma part, my anger still had occasionally hit her. If you get to wonder, -yes, i do feel bad about it. No, i never went really overboard, but it still was often beyond what was necessary.
So, Krümel grew, aged, and has surpassed the arrivals of three other cats ever since: Felix of 'Fe-fe', -a red, striped sissy of tomcat with white marks, who for the love of god can't shut up-, secondly Amigo, -a black, found and picked up wildling-house cat seemingly ever-cautious, who grew up into a quite the big size-, and at last Molli, -a black and white little, stubby, podgy of a cat, overtaken while sick from someone else who might have just kicked her out to the street. Y'know; family. And at the age of ten years, between Amigo's and Molli's arrival, i think, Krümel once almost died already, what with her kidneys having gone weak a lot, and the values of her uric acid having gone off the rails. We saved her, got her back up, and she made it, for seven more years. But nobody gets younger, as you know.
So this small, filigree cat with the perhaps not too elegant nickname of 'Ümmi' (from 'Krümel'), who seemingly never managed to decide whether to be a lady, a household-caretaker, or a rowdy, managed to make it past my anger, her own once already almost fatal sickness, an ever-whining eternal tom-kitten, a sneaky and playful biggie unable to keep his own size strength on mind, and a little heartfelt fattie who came to us so scaredly aggressive she almost came off mad rabid. She has seen two kittens growing up after herself, -has had her tail and paws stepped on so god-damn often and who ever learned jack shit to get out of the way, -has never stopped following her bizarre habit of eating up fluffs off the floor as if she wanted to remind us to clean up, -who has to little surprise, lived and died for food coming from our table and plates, -and who has never shaken off that strict and elegant lady-look in her face and eyes, or in her way of sitting.
And yeah, sure, there are many cats who don't make it to that age, and yeah, there are cats meeting a worse fate on the streets, at the hand of other animals, and what not. Sure she didn't live the worst live imaginable. So yeah, 17 years isn't too bad. But then on our way home, my mom asked me if it had been alright for her to tag me along for this or not. And about that, i just had the feeling that that cat had not only given to me, but also gotten from me, and yeah, not only in the good way. So i felt like, staying with her till the end, i kind of owed to her.
And then, there we are. After 17 years, on the 13th of June, not too far from the date when we had gotten her back then, the day had eventually come for us to return back home with one cat less than we had left with. Any pain she might have had, is now over, at least. ...But yeah, the feeling is weird, and it suggests what's yet to come three more times. I don't know if i want to just lay in bed or not, or what else to do, right now. But i feel reminded in a way so clearly and unmisleading, that everything has come to an end, and life doesn't grant mercy there. ...Almost reassuring in a bizarre way.
Good night from Germany, everyone.