Once the body is handled, you’ll feel like a sad, weird detective who solved a case. Let yourself cry. Then remember this: your cat is now a ghost who judges your grocery choices. That’s fine—they did that alive, too.
Donate their unused food, toys, or medicine to a shelter. Fact: shelters accept opened cat food, but not the guilt you’ll feel if you hoard it. And please, do not bury them in a cardboard box without a marker. You’ll forget where you buried them, and next spring you’ll plant tulips over their soul. Awkward.
Finally, talk to a friend, a vet, or an online grief forum. You’re not weird for mourning a creature that knocked things off shelves for sport. But if you narrate this story to strangers at a café like I just did, you’re golden. Now go toast your cat’s memory with a latte—they’d have knocked it over anyway.
