Becoming Her

Monday was supposed to be a normal day. I had a doctor’s appointment in Houston, about an hour and a half from where I live. On my way out of town, I dropped off my little storm cloud, Odie, my black cat, at the veterinarian clinic to be fixed.

Odie showed up in my life right when I needed him most. After living in the same house for 15 years, I moved into an apartment. The transition was difficult and lonely. But Odie was there, my comfort, my companion, my comic relief. Black cats get a reputation for being mysterious, and he lived up to it. His silly quirks and warm snuggles carried me through moments when I felt depressed or detached.

Like everyone does on road trips, I stopped at Buc-ee’s. As I got back in my car, the phone rang. It was the vet. My heart dropped as I heard the words I never expected: “Odie’s little heart stopped.” They had checked on him in recovery, tried to revive him, but couldn’t.

I was in shock. Never in my life did I think I’d get that phone call.

I am thankful, though. Thankful that Odie got to ride in my lap like a dog on the way to the vet, he was so unique. Thankful I told him how much I loved him.

I know the steps of grieving. I’ve studied them, I’ve lived them, I’ve written about them. I know he was “just a cat.” But in that moment, none of that mattered. He was my little shoulder to cry on during one of the hardest transitions of my life. So, I cried like a baby. On the way to the doctor’s office, on the way home, and again while writing this.

Sometimes you just have to give yourself permission to feel. To be upset, to ugly cry, to heave and gasp. Because walking through grief is the only way to get through it properly.

On the drive home, I thought: Wow, 2025 has been a year.  Can tomorrow be  New Year’s already? We prepare. We read books. We take classes. We learn coping skills. But at the end of the day, we don’t know what life will hand us. Some things remain a mystery, and we simply have to handle them as they come.

I’ll always love my little Odie. I’m going to miss him fiercely. But I’m grateful he was here, right when I needed him most. And I believe I’ll see him again one day. After all, if all dogs go to heaven…cats must too.