How Furball saved me from myself

Rest in Peace, love

I had my first panic attack three days after he died.

Furball was the most understanding cat I’ve ever met. It took only one look from me and he knew exactly what I wanted him to do. We would spend hours laying on the floor, watching TV together, doing yoga and sleeping in the same bed. We had a silly tradition, where he would escort me to our laundry room downstairs and then race through the basement back u. He would let me win sometimes.

He was always there for me. Whenever I came home and dropped onto my bed in convulsions from period pain, he would come and lay on top of me. He would watch me with concern if I cried in the bathroom, and he would keep me warm when I was reading books in my favorite chair.

I never thought I could lose him. The thought hasn’t crossed my mind until I saw him lying lifeless on the bathroom floor. I dropped my bag and ran to him, looking for signs of life.

He was still breathing. He looked at me as if to tell me that he has already given up on life. He stopped drinking water a few days before, and haven’t eaten since last night.

When my parents came home, my dad took him to the animal clinic. It was his first time outside the house. My dad sped through the city, and I petted his soft fur all the…