Wondering Soul Yoga

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Lessons in love and loss from Susu

Hear me out: A pet is a member of the family. And losing that pet is devastating.

Before my partner and I had cats, I didn’t get it. I did not understand how someone could love a pet so much that the pet was an integral member of the family. How could a pet be as dear to someone as a partner or parent? A pet can’t speak, so they can’t relate to us in the way a person can… can they?

Susu on Sarah's back

Within one day of welcoming our cat, Susu, into our lives, we (my partner and I) had fallen head-over-heels in love with her. She greeted us at the door every time we came home. She snuggled us all night long. She demonstrated her unequivocal love for us and asked for nothing in return.

We loved Susu fiercely every single day of her life. Her presence in our life was an unequivocal gift. That’s why Susu’s passing in March 2023 was so devastating. She really was part of our little family and our life felt empty without her.

If you didn’t get the chance to meet Susu, she was the silliest noodle. She loved chasing bugs and sleeping in the sunshine. She sometimes liked being pet and rarely liked being picked up, but she always loved pulling out the feathers of her favorite toy, Mr. Owl. She taught me to be more present, more loving, and more kind, and I am so grateful to have loved her (and to still love her).

Susu giving Sarah kisses

Here is some of the wisdom our cat bestowed on us.

Love fiercely, fully, and with abandon.

I loved Susu from the very first day I met her. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her silly, noodle-y presence in my life. Having Susu in my life definitively made me a better, kinder, more patient person. I don’t regret for a second rescuing her from the engine of a car on a cold, October day.

Keep it simple.

Susu didn’t try to do too much in one day. A day was full if she: 1) ate food, 2) took multiple big naps on or tucked into our bed, 3) chased one bug, 4) ate a piece of dust out of a corner of the porch, and 5) played hide and seek with Ernie. Big day! 

Susu, our cat

Be patient and forgive.

In her short time with us Susu destroyed multiple plants and sunk her claws into our curtains the moment she didn’t get her way. Our living room footstools have seen better days, what with all the scratching she put them through. But it doesn’t matter. Susu mattered more to us than all of our possessions combined. She was our love and our joy.

Put down your phone (and pet your cat).

I would love nothing more than to give Susu one more kiss, one more snuggle, one more pet on her soft, furry body. But I can’t. And I regret all the time I wasted watching YouTube videos of other cats or mindlessly scrolling through social media.

Susu (our cat) being silly

Ask for what you want.

From the first day we rescued Susu when we heard her pitiful cries to the last day of her life when she cried out to us because she wanted us to hold her as she died in our arms, Susu used her voice (meows + chirps) to ask for, nay demand, what she deserved. Often she either wanted food, scritches and love, or to be let out onto the porch to watch the birdies and go ‘nom nom nom’ with her little toofers.

Susu, our cat, under Sarah's legs

You are more than what you do or accomplish.

Susu never had to prove her worth to us, particularly prove her worth to us through her productivity or what she ‘got done’. Susu was our most precious baby girl just because she sat there and purred. She expanded our hearts simply by existing. She didn’t have to do anything to prove her value or earn her place in our hearts and home. She was exquisite because she lived and breathed on this earth day in and day out. And she loved us back without question or demands or expectations, besides wanting to be fed and let outside regularly.

Be patient and forgive.

In her short time with us, Susu destroyed multiple plants and sunk her claws into our curtains when she didn’t get her way. Our living room footstools have seen better days, what with all the scratching she put them through. But it didn’t matter. Susu mattered more to us than all of our possessions combined. She was our love and our joy.

Susu, our cat, in a fern

Pause.

Take time to watch a bird fly by. Soak in the sunlight on my skin. Take big, slow blinks at someone I love because you love them and want them to know it. Susu was only ever 100% present in the given moment. She worried about what was in front of her. The rest would come later and, as it did, she would handle each thing as it came.

Tell the people and pets in your life you love them every single day.

Give them hugs and love because you never know when that day might be your last together in this life.

I’ll leave you with a short list of bite-sized wisdom bestowed upon me by Susu:

  • Spend time outside every day.
  • Groom yourself daily so you feel clean and comfortable.
  • If you have to poop, run around a bit.
  • Eat only your favorite foods. 

Do you have pets? Or have you had pets in the past? What have they taught you about life?

Susu in Sarah's arms

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4 responses to “Lessons in love and loss from Susu”

  1. Curtis Avatar
    Curtis

    I judge people on how they feel about cats. People who think cats are indifferent and will be the first to eat your face when you die are just jerks. Cats all have unique personalities and want to build close relationships with the other animals and people in their lives.

    We have six.

    Yetta we got when my father in-law passed away. He had Yetta and her litter, and they all escaped into the woods after Steve died. Liberty and I spent several weeks on the property setting traps, and rehoming all the cats to be companion animals or barn cats to neighbors and friends. We kept Yetta and her son, George, for ourselves. George died a few months later, sadly. Yetta is a permanent resident in our bedroom, a little fearful of the world after having to do battle with local racoons and such to keep her family alive. She loves affection, and loves our children. When she wants affection, she’ll walk up to someone and then awkwardly flop over with an oomph!, waiting to be petted.

    Osiris is a volunteer cat. He was a neighborhood stray who would occasionally follow my son up to our porch and sit in his lap, and eventually just waltzed into the house. He has a love/hate relationship with affection. He’ll rub on my leg, but wince away when I pet him, seeming to suffer through it ready to scamper away at a moment’s notice. I think someone hurt him before he found us. Occasionally he’ll let me scoop him up and hold him, and I’ll wander around from person to person to get pats and make sure he knows all of us love him.

    Persephone we got from a rescue that works out of a pet store. I don’t exactly know how that works. Her old human family abandoned her during a move, which was all the motivation my wife needed to bring her home out of the blue. She likes to sit at the top of the steps. In all likelihood that has saved my life at this point, because I’m much more aware of where I’m stepping now. She had a pretty bad skin condition, but we have a special dry food for her, and add stuff to her wet food like licorice root, which over time cleared everything up. Adelaide calls her “soup”, and will come downstairs after bedtime to hunt for her, loudly singing “Soooooouup!”, before swooping her up and carrying her to bed. Persephone likes to roughhouse with cats much larger than her.

    Havoc, Jake, and Gracie we adopted after one of Liberty’s cousin’s father passed away. They were pretty traumatized when we found them. Havoc had attacked one of the police officers who found the dad when he thought he could just saunter up and pick Havoc up without a proper introduction. We actually had to get them pretty baked on catnip before we could lure them into carriers to take them home. They spent a week or so in the basement of our house getting acclimated to the activity level of a house with kids as well as meeting the other cats through the bottom crack of the basement door, and eventually they integrated themselves into the family.

    Havoc will aggressively hop into my lap the moment I sit down, and God forbid there’s a computer in the way. I brush him, and he purrs and kind of randomly licks the air, enjoying being babied.

    Jake is my TV buddy. I don’t actually have a TV, but at night sometimes I’ll hang out in the kitchen watching Netflix on my phone while I cook something or clean up. He’ll hop on top of the refrigerator to peer over my shoulder. He wants to be held and to get away from being held in equal measures. When I was miserable after a covid booster shot, knees on fire, insomnia, and unable to find a comfortable position, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He knew where it hurt the most, somehow, and whenever I would lie still for a minute he climbed onto my knees and purred loudly. Some people say the frequency of the purr has some sort of healing effect. I don’t know if that’s true, but I swear to God I’ve never felt more cared for in my life. The entire night he stayed up with me, never content if he thought I was uncomfortable. Go ahead, tell me that’s not love.

    Gracie is missing an eye. We don’t know if that was through a birth defect, disease, or misadventure. She’s the most skittish of our six, and it was a couple of months before she was comfortable with any of us handling her. She’ll give me five minutes once in a while where her need for attention and affection outweighs her desire to hide in one of the various cardboard boxes we have set up as the cat hotel. I have to sit cross-legged on the floor. She’ll approach me but stay just out of reach, and I have to reach my hand out, palm down, and let her rub against it for a minute. Then she’ll come sit beside me, maybe watching whatever show happens to be on my phone, and eventually she’ll decide it’s fine to just climb into my lap and accept some pats. It only lasts a few minutes and then she needs to retreat to safety. As a fellow introvert, I can relate.

    Before all of them there was Franklin. We got him from Cat Welfare a couple years before Adelaide was born. When we went there to pick out a cat, Liberty sat on the floor, and he was the one to come to her and introduce himself.

    He was the gentlest creature I’ve ever known. When Adelaide, and then Emrys were born, he always wanted to be beside them. He was the teddy bear with the wooden sword, defending sleeping children from closet monsters. I have scores of pictures of my babies sleeping where Franklin is lying beside them, with a protective paw on them. When Adelaide was preschool-aged, they would pick Franklin up, grab their iPad, and hunker down on the couch. Every morning. And Franklin didn’t want to be anywhere else.

    His loss was one of the hardest things I’ve ever faced. As his health declined, Liberty and I took him to the vet, who recommended we put him down so he could stop suffering. I gathered all the kids early from school to come say goodbye to him, and for the first time in their lives my children saw me cry. Ugly cry, shaking, weeping mess, not able to form a sentence.

    I’m sorry about Susu. I know what a psychic blow that is. And so fresh, too. Jesus, just last month. But I’m glad you had her in your life, and I know she made it more fulfilling. Just know that there are some fellow cat lovers out there that have you in their hearts right now.

    Reply
    1. Sarah Avatar
      Sarah

      I agree! The myth that cats are somehow not social or don’t want love and attention is simply not true! Thank you for sharing your story and the story of your sweet cats, Curtis! I love all your cats even though I’ve never met them. And I adore their names too.

      Reply
  2. Sandy Taylor Avatar
    Sandy Taylor

    I am the same! I have my first little kitty cat ever. My first pet ever. I was surprised that I could love her so much! I’m sorry for your loss! Susu was so special❤️🐈‍⬛❤️

    Reply
    1. Sarah Avatar
      Sarah

      Thank you, Sandy! Give your kitty kisses for me!

      Reply

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