The Quiet After Losing a Cat

Two stories. One truth. Grief doesn’t go away—it changes.

Hey Golden Whiskers family,

There’s a kind of quiet that only shows up after loss.

Not the peaceful kind.

The kind that feels too big for the room you’re in.

When I sat down to talk with Chelsea Kramer, a therapist who specializes in grief, anxiety, and trauma, I knew we were going to talk about grief.

I didn’t know how much it would sit with me afterward.

At one point, I asked her to share what losing her soul cat had been like.

She paused.

You could hear it in her voice before the words even came.

If you’d like, you can listen to a clip of our interview, and Chelsea’s story, here:

Sherbert was the love of her life. Ten years together. Three of those years spent navigating liver disease—vet visits, uncertainty, waiting for answers that didn’t always come. And yet, she talked about how happy he was. Gregarious. Social. The kind of cat who loved going to the vet because there were people there.

Eventually, he declined. Early 2020. Right before the pandemic.

A friend—who happened to be a photographer—came over and took photos of Sherbert a few days before he passed. He died at home, in their bedroom. And Chelsea said something that stuck with me: she was grateful it happened before COVID, before people were forced to hand their pets over and say goodbye from the parking lot.

She told me it was the most intense grief she’s ever experienced.

More intense than losing humans she loved.

Four years later, she still thinks about him every day.

“He’s part of my day,” she said. “He’s part of me. And that will never go away.”

I felt that deeply.

Because an hour before we recorded, I was already getting emotional—just thinking about what I might share about my own cats.

Grief does that. It waits. Then it shows up anyway.

I told Chelsea about Nomar and Mia.

Same age. Not littermates, but bonded.

Sixteen years old when everything started to unravel.

Nomar died in August of 2019—right before I was supposed to move from Colorado to Tennessee. I had planned my entire move around having two cats. I had them checked by the vet on a Friday. Everything looked fine.

The following Monday, Mia was diagnosed with kidney disease during pre-op bloodwork for a tooth pull.

That same week, Nomar declined fast.

Under the bed.
Not eating.
Not himself.

My car was in the shop. I lived alone. My vet was on vacation. I took an Uber to a vet clinic where the doctor had never met Nomar before. The tech I trusted was there—that helped—but in the end, I had to make the call without a diagnosis. Without answers.

The guilt came later.

Then there was Mia.

She lived to 20. Kidney disease. Arthritis. Frail, but tough. From January to June of 2023, I slept on the floor next to her because she couldn’t climb onto the bed anymore. I didn’t know the day I took her to the vet to check her mobility would be the day I’d say goodbye.

You never really do.

After Mia died, the quiet wasn’t just emotional—it was physical.

For four years, it had been just me and her. I lived alone. I worked alone. I was her caretaker around the clock.

And suddenly… nothing.

I was scared to be alone in my apartment. Not in a dramatic way. In a very real, nervous-system way. So I slept on a friend’s sofa. For four months. Because being around one other person mattered.

When I shared that, Chelsea nodded. No fixing. No minimizing.

She talked about community. About people who knew the animal—not just you. How one of her friends sketched Sherbert after he passed, and how that drawing still sits framed by her desk.

Not because it “healed” the grief. Because it honored it.

That’s what this clip is about.

Not solutions. Not timelines.

Just two people saying: this hurts. And it matters.

If you’re carrying loss right now—especially this time of year—please hear this:

Nothing you’re feeling is wrong.

There is no version of grief you’re supposed to be doing better at.

And you don’t have to carry it by yourself.

👉 If you want to listen to my entire interview with Chelsea for the podcast episode: Pet Loss Grief: Why It Hurts So Much - An How To Carry The Love Forward, you can find it here.

Thank you for being here.

With gratitude,

Scott 🐾