Sarah's Story

My Sweet Sarah

I named her Sarah, a stray cat who found me while I was visiting friends in the north Georgia mountains. She was a stray calico with lots of matted hair that covered a scrawny body. As I already had one calico cat, I decided to keep her. For the next 12 years, Sarah was my shadow and nightly lap buddy who purred with much gratitude and contentment.

As she aged, Sarah had health issues the vet could easily treat. During one visit, though, after Sarah had not been eating and was very sluggish, it was discovered she had a fast-growing abdominal tumor. It was untreatable and inoperable. A decision had to be made quickly as the tumor was causing pressure on many of her internal organs. Luckily, I was able to take her home a final night together.

My heart was breaking into a million pieces as I brought her back the next day for “the appointment.” Sarah loved to sleep on a small, burgundy crocheted blanket my mother had made for her. I put the blanket inside the cat carrier, which Sarah laid on as I ever-so-slowly drove her to the Vet.

Once there, they provided a bright orange blanket to cover the sterile, stainless steel exam table. I gently took Sarah and the crocheted blanket out of the carrier and placed them both on the orange blanket, and that’s where I snuggled my face to Sarah’s, telling her how much I loved her, while the sympathetic Vet did what needed to be done.

Once Sarah was gone, I had overwhelming feelings a pain, guilt, and relief. They all mixed together, putting such an unexplainable ache in the pit of my stomach. Then I remembered the crocheted blanket. She must be buried with that blanket! Knowing she had something familiar with her that had my DNA on it somehow made me feel better; like I was still giving her a forever hug. 

I knew I wanted to have Sarah’s body buried. Since I lived in a townhouse without a yard, a good friend offered space in the backyard of her family’s home. I made arrangements to have Sarah’s burial the next day.

The folks at the vet’s office were so helpful. They assured me Sarah would be wrapped up in her blanket and ready for me to get the next morning. I left their office with just an empty cat carrier and emotions I had never experienced before. Were these feelings normal? I wish they had provided me with some type of pet grief assistance. 

After a sleepless night, I went back to the Vet to pick up my sweet Sarah. I was handed an awkward-sized, old cardboard box. It was cold, and the bright orange blanket was showing through the cracks. The box didn’t look respectful at all, but I knew Sarah was wrapped in her crocheted blanket, which gave me some needed peace. 

My friend and her family were so kind and considerate as we had a small burial ceremony. Placing that strange box in the deep hole left me unsettled; could I have treated my Sarah’s remains better? 

Several weeks later, still overwhelmed with sorrow, I went to the vet’s office to get something for my other calico cat. While there, the friendly Vet Assistant said, “I have something for you,” and presented me with the burgundy crocheted blanket. She commented, “We washed it for you!” My heart dropped and my eyes filled with tears. The one thing giving me some peace and comfort about the handling of Sarah’s passing was just unknowingly stripped away. 

I said, “thank you,” took the blanket, and walked away in disbelief. Sarah didn’t have my loving hug around her after all.

At that point, I determined any future pet goodbyes would be done differently. Out of Sarah’s death, furr-ever hug™ was born.

Marsha Dickinson

Founder, furr-ever hug™