On the gift of goodbye

Some cats find their way into your heart without making it entirely obvious that they like you back. Charlie was one of those cats. A proper lady with standards, she had a reputation to uphold and absolutely no intention of being overly friendly just because someone showed up. Affection was on her terms, thank you very much! But I knew her little ways. The happy rolls, the excited little calls from her bed (when she could be bothered), and those moments when she'd let me into her world. For Charlie, that was saying quite a lot.

There were treats in bed, dinner and salad bar deliveries (AKA her spider plant), brushing sessions, playtime with a wand, and screaming matches with the birds on the balcony… She had her routines and preferences, and she certainly knew what she wanted. I like to think we developed our own little friendship. Perhaps I wasn't her favourite person in the whole wide world, but she definitely knew how to keep me entertained, and she earned a special place in my heart.

One of the things about being a cat sitter is that the cats become a little bit yours, too. You get to know their characters, their routines, their quirks and all the little things that make them who they are. You share moments, build a bond, and sometimes become part of their lives for many years. And the bond you build with a cat can extend to their humans, too.

Charlie's parents have been my clients for many years, and we've become friendlier over time. When Charlie was nearing the end of her life, they made the difficult but loving decision to let her go. To me, that's the ultimate show of love: putting your cat's wellbeing first, even when it breaks your heart.

Charlie needed quite a bit of special care, living with several health conditions at the same time. I used to joke that she had them all! Her parents were probably the most thorough, organised and gentle cat parents I've ever met. They paid attention to every detail and did everything they could to keep her comfortable and happy, always adapting to her changing needs... so it shouldn't have been so much of a surprise when they asked if I'd like to spend some time with Charlie while she was still with us... But it was! They were offering me the chance to come and say goodbye to her. What a beautiful gift I was being offered!

Her parents, a dear friend of the family and I sat together around Charlie that afternoon. We shared stories, laughed and cried together. I'd also written Charlie a letter, telling her what she meant to me and how grateful I was for everything she'd taught me. I was able to deliver it to her in person. I cried a lot while writing it, but I left having said what I wanted to say. As a cat sitter, you don't often get the chance to say goodbye like that, and I'm so grateful I did.

Being included in Charlie's goodbye made me think about something I'd like to share with other cat parents: how much it can mean to include your cat's sitter in their final chapter.

The end of a cat's life is a very personal and emotional time for their family. Being present for the actual goodbye isn't necessarily appropriate or possible, and that's absolutely fine. Every family should be able to experience those moments in whatever way feels right for them. But there are other ways to include your cat's sitter. Letting them know what's happening, telling them when their cat has passed away, or allowing them to share a few memories can mean a lot. We might not be family, but after caring for a cat for years, we can become quite attached to them, too.

Sometimes, we care for a cat for years, and then our visits simply come to an end, without us ever finding out what happened. We understand that families have a lot to deal with during such a difficult time, and this isn't about expecting anyone to do anything in particular. It's just about recognising that the person who looked after your cat may be grieving, too. Charlie will be missed by her family, and I'll miss her, too. I'm incredibly grateful to her family for giving me the chance to say goodbye and for sharing this difficult yet special moment with me.

To my dearest Charlita: thank you for letting me care for you, for your little displays of affection, your strong opinions, and all those moments that made you you. I'll miss you, sweet girl. And if we happen to meet again somewhere down the road, you can drop the cool-girl act for a minute. We can have a happy roll together. I won't tell anyone 🌈❤️

In the picture: Gorgeous Charlie saying a lot without saying a word.