How Do You Process Your Cat Being Hit By a Car?

As I ushered my daughter into the car for preschool, I saw one of our black cats sleeping by the curb.

That’s odd.

As I walked closer, reality set in.

“Oh, Loki,” I whispered under my breath.

My curious toddler — familiar with these cats — asked, “is that kitty cat? Sleeping?”

I told her yes. We needed to leave for preschool.

My mind was a million miles away as I floated through the motions at drop-off. I signed her in, handed her a lunchbox and water bottle. She moved about the classroom distractedly — as toddlers do — but I felt rushed. I wanted to get home.

Fate gifted us with a litter of kittens from a black cat we call Mama. Like her, the kittens were all black as coal. Beautiful, sleek, and shiny.

Mama was a stray hanging around our backyard, up in the high planter. We finally discovered her litter of 3. Linux, Radar, and Ada.

We took them in, got the kittens fixed, and allowed them to have a home while they were still allowed the freedom they grew up with. We tried to bring mama in for her spay appointment, but she had disappeared.

She showed up 3 weeks later. She was fat. Then she grew bigger. She hid in my dad’s closet and had her second litter in our home. She had 4 kittens. Fidget, Luna, Rogue, and Loki. We were able to find a home for Rogue but found it near impossible for the rest. We gave in and took this litter in as well.

Seven cats seemed excessive. It was excessive. We were that house. The crazy cat house. I now see how it can happen so quickly.

The older bunch stayed outside most of the time. The three younger ones would hang out inside while watching the older group play outside, chase bugs, and kill birds.

Each cat had their own quirks.

Loki played fetch.

Burial helps the grieving but doesn’t stop the heart from bleeding.

When I got home from dropping my daughter off, my dad had placed Loki in a box. I stared in disbelief at how unemotional nature was about death.

Bugs — kinds I had never seen before — marched through his sleek, glossy, black fur. His eyes lay closed, and his tongue stuck out in a silly way on the side. He had started to bloat. He no longer looked like himself. Just another cat, I suppose.

What do you do with a dead cat?

Spend hundreds of dollars for a vet to burn them? Throw them away? Bury them?

We chose the latter — no regard to any possible rules about burying creatures on your property.

The house felt quiet.

On the Fourth of July, Radar went missing. Undoubtedly caused by the fireworks around our neighborhood. We don’t know if he’d wandered too far, got adopted, or….

We assumed he found a girlfriend to spend time with.

There hasn’t been the typical energy around the house since that morning. They seemed to have disappeared. Alone to grieve for their lost brother.

If anyone ever thought cats don’t express empathy for a lost sibling, they have never experienced something like this. Fidget sat in the backyard more than usual. Linux has disappeared. Ada and Luna, the two girls, seem less available.

Their usual routine seemed diminished.

Loki was almost 6 months old. He was growing more and more each day we saw him. He looked like his older brother, Linux.

At night, Linux would sleep in our bed with my little family Curled up between my daughter and me. Loki would join us once in a while.

I’ve never been to a funeral

I wasn’t exposed to death as a kid.

My best friend’s brother hung himself when I was in second grade. They were our neighbors and their mother invited us to the funeral. My parents refused to let me go.

My grandfather died when I was in fifth grade. My mom went to the funeral alone.

My grandma Mop passed away after I graduated college. I was told to stay home—the same for my grandma Joy. Stay home. A funeral is not worth a trip.

Why were my parents so insistent on keeping me away from death?

So, I attended Loki’s funeral.

With a small grave, we laid his small body gently into his final resting place. His body was curled as if sleeping, restful. As I shoveled the first of the earth over him, tears began to fall. As the tiny hold filled, my heart grew heavier.

The reality of what happened began to fill my stomach like lead. He would never greet me in the morning with his sporadic jolts around the living room, following me into the kitchen for a piece of bacon.

We placed a stone at the top where his head lay and used the thick grass as a wreath.

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How do you process death?

I cried a lot. Is this normal? I wouldn’t know.

It feels cruel how life goes on unapologetically.

He was a cat. He bothered no one and brought joy to my daughter. Cats don’t typically handle toddler energy well, but Loki did, and I thank him for his kindness.

Did you know cats kill centipedes? They are also amazing for rodent control. These cats got an invasive lizard population under control. They kill cockroaches and — when they can — catch birds. They need less energy than a dog and will cuddle up on your lap when it’s cold outside.

How could someone be so careless behind such a large machine? Were they speeding? Did they do it on purpose? Did they even care? Was it our fault? For fostering so many cats?

I’ll never know. I would go insane if I tried. Perhaps the fault lies in fate alone.

Death is a lonely business.