How to Not be an Asshole: What to do when your friend's cat dies

God…I hate people.

Perhaps I’m being a tad over general.

There are people I like. There are people I respect. There are people that, in my book, seriously kick some m*ther f*cking ass, take names, and then go drink a banana-mango smoothie of awesomeness. In fact, there’s a lot of such people - and this is a rant built in defense of one such person.

Mary is amazing. She can hold her own in an argument but never holds grudges, she is unfailingly generous with others without sacrificing herself, and she dances along the strict path of decorum in such a way that she can break all the rules she wants without ever losing her image as tactful, polite, and classy. She may be my hero. She is also the age of my grandmother, and has been volunteering with sex trade workers for over ten years. Amazing.

Yesterday, Mary struggled to hold back tears as she told me about a loss in her family. Mary couldn’t bear the thought of going home. Her friend was gone, unexpectedly, and the only person who she shared her home with, and her bed with, was suddenly missing from her life.

The week before, Mary had needed to put down her cat, and she was still reeling from the loss. Adding insult to injury, she stated quietly, was that no one understood or offered sympathy. At best, they told her to buy a new cat, and at worst they made fun. Of a sweet, retired widow, who had lost a member of her family, and a friend, and was hurting. Frack, I hate people.

Yes, her friend was a cat. Yes, you may not understand that relationship or want it for yourself. I myself am not a ‘cat person.’ They shed and scratch and may or may not only appreciate you for your body heat. I do empathize with the love that people can have for pets - when I try to explain how I feel about my dogs, it is somewhere between a best friend and a child, and the fact that they are furry and a different species doesn’t change the fact that, to me, they are family, and people, and I love them as much as anything or anyone can be loved.

I know that relationship is strange, and as anything strange, it is an opportunity for ridicule. I know that, to some, pets are a demonstration of loneliness put on a leash for all to see. And yes, I may be lonely. In fact, I probably certainly am - but that does not mean I don’t have human friends, and I don’t have human family members I love, or that I don‘t hope to have a significant other of the human variety. All that my dogs demonstrate is that I share my life with two furry little guys who love me unconditionally, who I love unconditionally, who give me kisses when I come home from work, who interrupt my typing with demands I throw their disgusting toy frog for them to fetch, who look up to me and want to make me happy and who I would gladly do anything to make happy…because I love them, and they’re my family, and my friends, and when they wrestle each other and make sounds like beached walruses, it makes me happy.

Where dogs are small, furry people, cats may be small, furry, autistic people. They are slower to warm, endlessly quirky, and much more open with displays of hostility than affection. But for Mary, when her cat watched for her when she came through the door, she knew she was loved, and missed. When her cat climbed on her lap when she was trying to read, she knew that her cat needed her attention. And when her cat curled up beside her on her bed at night, she felt like she wasn’t alone in the world, and that she mattered, no matter how many years ago her husband passed away, and how independent her grown children became, and how many friends and siblings inevitably got sick and faded away.

Mary’s loss is a loss. I know it is not the same as losing a human companion, in part because no two losses can be compared, but it is still unexpected, and intimate, and painful. It is not an opportunity to judge. It is not an opportunity to advise. Getting a new kitten will not solve Mary’s problem, because there is no solution to losing a friend and a family member. It is a loss, and it hurts, and it needs to be grieved.

I don’t care if you like cats or not. I don’t care if you like pets or not. I don’t care if you particularly like people or not, actually, and I have my own mixed feelings on that subject. When someone is hurting, you empathize with their pain, and you offer to give them a hug or a tissue, and you ask if there’s anything you can do to make it better. You listen and you treat them with respect. You do NOT insult, or talk down, or minimize their pain. That is called Being An Insensitive Asshole, and Mary deserves better than that.

God…I so fricken hate people.