This Valentines Day

This is one of the most painful pieces I’ve ever written. Harder than my very first in 2014 when I was in a very dark place and “standing on the edge.” 

On the same week I released my first single, an event I’ve waited for all my life, I lost my pet. 

I swore I’d never post about the passing of someone in my family — it’s too personal — too raw for the likes of Facebook, at least for me. But it feels like it would be ignoring the kitty that isn’t in the room any more. And I’m a writer. Sharing helps me come to terms…in this case process grief. 

This isn’t the first time I’ve been through it. When I said good-bye to “Sushi” I was coming off of a huge hit with “Bitch.” Not that it helped. Hits don’t mend broken hearts. But it did offer an uplifting distraction. Oh — and Layla was a year old. I had my hands full running after a toddler. 

As much as I’ve scoffed at the idea of the “emotional support pet,” I take it all back. A kitty is there for you. She absorbs your ups and downs. Sweetens your day with a snuggle, a chin on the back of your hand when she sleeps beside you. 

When your kitty is on the decline, you make deals, right? Denial 101. You tell yourself you’ll let her go when she starts to “fill in the blank.” And when she starts to fill in that blank, you move that line. Fill in a another blank. (ie: when she starts having accidents outside the box you move the box closer. And closer. There’s an equivalent with dogs. You know the drill.) 

Sixteen years ago, at the shelter with Adam, I was determined to replace Sushi and lobbied for the tortoiseshell who looked like Sushi. But then this little black and white leapt over to us and said, “Take me. Take me! I’m Roxy and I’m ready!” So we did. Layla was 6. “A kitty!” she cried as we lifted that black and white out of the carrier. Roxy became a member of our family. A loving energy and spirit in our home. 

But that was 16 years ago. 

Dr. Feldman suggested we ‘let her go’ before it’s too late. He said, ‘Don’t wait until she can’t walk or she collapses.’  So we made an appointment with Serenity, (an in-home end-of-life pet care service). We canceled. We made another appointment. We canceled. 

We made a third appt. We kept it. 

Morning of I woke up and realized I dreamt I left Roxy at an airport in a carrier by a departure gate. I begged the Universe for a sign that we were doing the right thing. It was the first morning she wouldn’t eat. #Sign. 

‘Benjamin’ was lovely. Gentle. But man, I would not want his job. He talked us through it softy. I kept thinking we failed her in some way. I wanted to shout, “Stop I changed my mind!” But before I knew it she stopped breathing. He wrapped her in a blanket. I was already sobbing in the kitchen when he closed the front door and carried her away. Forever. 

I’ve been hurt and I’ve been angry but it’s been a long time since I had a broken heart. I forgot what it feels like. Now I remember. I can’t remember the last time I cried so loud. I mean, I was prepared for this. It didn’t matter. 

Loss sucks. 

At least I still have my emotional support human. But Adam is a wreck too! I don’t know who’s worse. 

For anyone who ever loved and lost a pet, just wow. Excruciating. They’re still everywhere. Prancing into the kitchen for treats. Sitting by the sink waiting for water. Next to you when you wake up. It’s better when you’re out, right? You don’t expect to see them. But then you come home. 

I’m on a plane for NY as I type this. Hopefully the change in scenery will do me good. When I return to LA (I won’t have a toddler to chase but) I’ll be excited about this new chapter in my life — finally releasing my own music. I’ll resume, recover, accept that new fucking normal, like we always do. We’re resilient. Our hearts expand and contract to accommodate new normals all the time. Again, you know the drill. 

On this Valentines Day I give my heart to anyone who’s lost a furry friend…may they rest peacefully after having giving us the sweetest gift there is — emotional support and pure unconditional love. #HeartExpanded.

Big important PS: A few days before we said good-bye, thinking we could extend her life a little longer, I bought a fresh bottle of insulin. In Roxy’s name I’d like to donate it to another diabetic kitty who’s owners have a hard time paying for this stuff.  I also have a substantial amount of 

Pemobendan

Furosemide

Clopidorgrel

Atenelol 

No sense tossing perfectly good medication. LMK if you need it. I’ll get them to you somehow.