Elizabeth Keedy

I sometimes write blog posts when I’ve been through an emotional experience. Writing helps me process my emotions and make sense of things, as well as sharing the experience in the hope that it will help at least one person. So, I’m writing about losing an animal companion too soon because, although it isn’t the first time, it recently happened to me.

The little one in question was one of Lilly’s kittens. 

On July 21st, Lilly gave birth to four beautiful babies, but one of them was struggling. A bundle of black fur, this little boy wasn’t breathing properly. He gasped in and out through his tiny mouth ever so slowly, making quiet noises as if in pain and desperately wanting it to stop. It broke my heart.

Lilly had decided to give birth under the kitchen cupboards rather than in her usual place – a nesting box in my wardrobe. I’d had an intuitive hunch this might happen and that one of her babies wouldn’t make it. When I saw her go behind the washing machine towards the hole in the kitchen cupboard, I thought, “Oh, no. That’s not good.” I hoped she just wanted somewhere to hide for a while.

But a couple of hours later when I went into the kitchen, I heard tiny meows. I tried to coax Lilly out, but she meowed loudly, as if distressed. It was clear there was a problem.

I got onto the internet to find out how take off the cupboard baseboards. I didn’t have the right tools–  suction cups. So at 9pm on Saturday night, I knocked on my neighbour’s door to beg for help. There was no way I could leave Lilly and however many babies she’d had in that dark, dusty, cramped place with a cold cement floor. It took a while to get the kitchen unit baseboards off, due to a lack of the right tools, but my kind-hearted neighbour didn’t give up. 

I think the struggling kitten was the firstborn. I’d heard Lilly crying out, which was from pain – physical or emotional. Lilly had birthed two other kittens, which seemed healthy, and she was ready to give birth to a fourth. As gently and quickly as possible, I moved mother and babies into the nesting box and sat with Lilly as she birthed her fourth baby, while desperately trying to get the black kitten to suckle. It couldn’t, of course, because it could only breathe through its mouth. I even tried to give it a drop of warmed raw milk, but it only blew bubbles from its mouth. 

I was frantic.

Lilly kept licking the kitten, but she knew something was wrong. I rang the emergency vet, who told me it wasn’t unusual for the babies to have an underdeveloped respiratory system. She said they don’t have equipment small enough to help the kitten. As already mentioned, intuitively, I knew the kitten would die, and eventually I gave up trying to help. I left it with Lilly through the night, and the following morning its lifeless body was cold and stiff.

It still makes me cry to think of it. As a psychic medium, I often connect with the ‘other side’. I understand the cycle of life and death and that, in spiritual truth, there is no death, but when I think of the experience, it still makes me cry and I still want to blame myself. We humans think we can control life, but no-one controls life and death, except Divine Creator.

In my heart, I know the kitten’s death wasn’t mine or Lilly’s fault. I’ve spoken about the guilt of losing a beloved animal companion in this post. Through mediumship sessions with various animals, they’ve shared information about death and the dying process. They always say the same thing: the how, when and where is agreed in the soul contract before the animals are born. It’s the same for humans. Only Divine Creator can change this and only in rare circumstances, so guilt and blame are a waste of energy. 

But sometimes … we can’t help it, can we? We are human, after all.

After the kitten passed, I connected with him. You might already know that I’m an animal communicator. The little kitten was full of joy. He told me he was new to Earth and wanted to pop in briefly to see what it was like. He said I’d been very anxious – which was true. He asked me not to be sad, but to be happy that I’d been part of the experience. It still didn’t stop my tears.

I showed Lilly his cold, hard body as I wrapped him in a small towel and left him there, just outside the nesting box, to make sure that Lilly knew he was gone. The next day, I removed him and buried him in the woods, next to where I’d scattered my little Maggie’s ashes. Amid sobs, I mumbled a few heartfelt words and sat for a while by a tree as I contemplated life and loss.

My life has been characterised by loss. I only need to watch a film where someone dies and I’m a blubbering mess. Even as I write these words, tears are streaming down my cheeks. I never used to be this way. For many years, I suppressed my emotions. It was the only way I could cope with my life. Now, my emotional flood gates are open!

Grief is a very personal experience for each of us. I spoke about my mum’s passing in this post. Even with knowledge of the ‘other side’ and the understanding that life never ends, losing someone special, regardless of how long we’ve known them, can be heartbreaking.

So, to everyone who feels as though they’ve lost someone too soon – human or animal – give yourself the time and space to feel your loss in your own way. The process can’t be rushed. Honour your needs. And remind yourself that one day, you’ll feel better, and the happy memories will outshine the pain.

If you’d like a reading from your animal companion, past or present, I offer those services here. Or, if you’d like to create a deeper connection with your beloved animal companion and better understand their needs, I have a Patreon community of animal lovers.