Why dead pets matter

When their cat Sox got ill had to be put down, Olivia Lichtenstein and her family were not prepared for how deeply they would mourn

The house feels quiet and empty, pulsing with that deafening silence specific to death. We are a family in mourning. Last Friday morning, five of us got into the car and drove away in the sad knowledge that only four of us would be coming home. We were taking a much loved family member to “Switzerland”, otherwise known as the vet (we hoped a little gallows humour might render the impending ordeal more bearable.) Sox, our cat, who had been diagnosed with cancer four months previously, was now in pain – the time had come to do the “kind” thing.

Fourteen years ago, our son, Oscar, and I chose Sox for Francesca, our daughter. Oscar was 13 then and his sister was eight. Or rather, in the manner of these things, he had chosen us: we peeked into a basket of kittens and he pushed his little black and white face inquisitively into ours. “That’s the one,” we said together and brought him home to hide for Christmas.

Continue reading... Reported by guardian.co.uk 14 hours ago.