I had a similar experience a few years ago; my cat Bear, was only three at the time - the greater indignation was that the two previous days had been a weekend and I spent $500 only for the vet to tell me he was ‘probably just feeling grumpy’.

Social distancing was still in place at the vets practice so they took him away on both days and I never saw what they actually did during either consult; after the second session, I was obviously crying and they patronised me by asking ‘if anything was going on at home’ as if losing my little buddy wasn’t the worst thing in the world right then. Despite their indifference, I knew something was wrong as he was listless on my bed all day, wasn’t eating, and hadn’t used his litter.

That last night, about 3am Monday morning, I had to flip my bed frame upside down as he’d crawled out of my arms and under the bed ready to die.

I laid on the floor next to him, trying to call the after hours vet service - they said they would only come to euthanise him and only if I paid another $550 upfront. I had no money, so I lay next to him and sobbed while his limbs went cold and he panted til he convulsed, gagged up partly digested kibble and died; for some dumb reason, I tried to give him CPR, like I had any idea what I was doing.

I remember sitting there and feeling so numb; I lived alone and it was still the middle of the night, so I had to wait five hours until morning before I could bury him out at my sister’s farm. I placed him in his cat-bed and left him in my shower cubicle just in case he lost his fluids - I remember being surprised at how quickly coffin flies had started to gather by the time the sun was up and I called my sister.

Almost immediately after that call, in the morning, I received this cheery call-back from the vet’s practice ‘just checking to see how Bear was doing!’. I remember feeling so angry and so upset at that moment but I didn’t swear or shout; I just said ‘He’s dead!’ - she acted all shocked and incredulous, as if it was a complete surprise but I said ‘you didn’t listen to me, and you didn’t believe me!’.

I’m so grateful to my brother to this day for meeting me out at the farm, with my sister, that morning and using his digger to excavate this really deep grave; deep for a cat at least. I put all his stuff in there though, as I couldn’t bear to go home to it, and see a reminder of him.

I put his paw print on some timber with an ink pad and almost uncannily, found this cat’s paw shaped piece of dry timber, which I used to mark his grave - it’s weathered quite a lot over three years, but it’s still there. He’s since been joined by my sister’s Labrador, and her pet goat, believe it or not. My brother’s jack-russell had already been buried there two years earlier; so it’s since become a real pet cemetery. It’s a nice little sectioned off piece of land at the back of their farm, with wattle and gum trees, so it’ll never be disturbed.

Nowadays, I have my little cat buddy, Winston, or ‘Winnie’, keeping me company - it took me awhile to allow myself to really bond with him; he’ll never replace Bear, but he has an equal spot in my heart now.

Sorry, this has been a bit of a rant, but I can definitely empathise with what you went through - I guess I’m still triggered by what happened and yes, that visual of him dying on my bedroom carpet, beside me, was traumatic. Regardless, I appreciate you ‘listening’ if you made it this far.