My cat Sadie died in October of 2004, and still to this day I cry when I think about her. She was 11 years old, in great health, and the last thing I had from my grandmother before she died (2002). I had just started rehabilitating her--I had moved from my parents house the year before and they hadn't really paid attention to her like she deserved--my parents believed all cats should be outdoors at the time--so when I ended up having to move back home due to money, I would bring her in the house every night to sleep with me. It had been maybe 4 months since I'd been doing this, and I had just started looking for an apartment, determined I would take her with me this time.
The story is this: I came home in the wee hours in the morning after going midnight bowling, and I saw a white shape on the side of the road next to our driveway. I knew at once it had to be her--we actually had 2 white cats at the time, but for some reason I just KNEW it was her. I barely even got my car pulled into the driveway before jumping out and running to her. When I found her, she was still alive and warm, but not moving. I swear I heard her meow, and I was practically hysterical at this point, so I picked her up--she didn't have any physical injuries that I could see and I ran a quick check to make sure no limbs or ribs were broken--thinking I would rush her to the emergency vet. However, when I did pick her up, a fountain of blood rushed from her mouth, and she went limp. I ended up running to the front door covered in my beloved kitty's blood, crying--fully hysterical by this point--and banging on the door til my mother answered--I refused to put her down, yet I knew I couldn't carry her in and get the blood everywhere. My mom took her from me, and once I calmed down I checked and realized she no longer had a pulse. I still wonder whether she got hit by a car, or what possibly could have happened to do this to her. I still beat myself up that I even chose to go out that night, because if I would have stayed home, she would have been in bed with me and never would have died. It's been 2 years, and I'm still having trouble coming to terms with it, mostly I think because I have no idea what happened to her, because I've lost pets due to them being hit by a car, but she didn't exhibit any of those signs. I guess there's really no point in dwelling on it, because I know there was nothing I could have done either way, but I guess I just hope posting this will help me to finally come to terms with her death. She's the only pet I've ever lost that I still have grief over, especially considering the circumstances of her death, and the fact that she was a gift from my grandmother, whom I had always been very close to. I don't even remember how my car got taken care of that night because once my mom made me put her down I broke down crying for hours. My dad ended up making her a casket and burying her next to my mom's cat, whom she'd had for 12 years (he died of cancer the year before), because he had always been her best friend. It's kind of comforting to think she might be in heaven with her best friend, but I still miss her every time I think of her. Heck, I'm even crying trying to type this out. Does anyone have any ideas of what I might be able to do to come to terms with this? I'd love to be able to think of her and smile instead of cry. I can't even stand to look at old pictures because I always end up thinking of that night and breaking down again.