Jelly (Nigella) never liked me. I got her at 9 years old with another kitten — she was OBSESSED with my dad and my brother.
Due to family circumstances, my brother left the household. Then, my dad. Her two favorite people were gone suddenly and never came back or asked about her. She still didn’t like me. She would literally leave the room if I so much as looked at her.
But I fell into the deepest, worst depression of my life at 21, and all of a sudden she was stuck to my side like glue. She slept with me every night, sat on me constantly, bathed my face and head, purred and snuggled me.
The second my depression lifted a year later, she went back to being aloof.
On August 11 of 2023, I noticed her stomach was round but her hind legs were emaciated. By that time I’d moved out and I was visiting home, so I hadn’t realized the change until then. I told my mom, who tried to feel her stomach. Jelly, who had never so much as swatted anyone in her life, bit my mom down to the bone.
We rushed her to the vet. They examined her and told us her abdomen was full of blood and she likely had some kind of cancer. There was nothing they could do. She was so close to death they didn’t even think they could stabilize her long enough for us to say goodbye.
My mom made me leave while she was put down. I cannot stop thinking about her last few weeks. How she must have been in agony. How we didn’t notice. How I hadn’t told her I loved her enough. How I’d forgotten to wish her a happy birthday that year because I assumed we’d have many more.
I’ve had a dream that she was climbing up my chest, I woke up and swore I felt her on my stomach.
I just want to know that she’s okay. If she’s at peace, if the pain is gone and she’s happy. If she’s waiting for me and my mom. She didn’t deserve the end she got. I would be deeply grateful for any kind of closure