My darling little noodle Diego

By now, most of you will know that a few weeks ago we lost our beloved Diego, our Siamese cat, our little noodle, to kidney failure. He had been with us for 14 years. Many of you sent prayers and good thoughts and vibes when he was being treated at the vet and on fluids in an IV in hopes of getting him back on track. For this, I’ll always be grateful. I really hoped that with so much good energy being poured into him, we could turn things around. But, it turns out, you can never know when all the magical energy you can muster will just not hold off fate. While I am sad that all the help we could get him, was not able to save his life, I have felt so loved and supported through this situation. So, thank you all so much for all your love and prayers, they were felt with much gratitude.
It helps to know that we did absolutely everything we could to help our little cuddle bug, but unfortunately it doesn’t take away the pain of the loss.

What’s strange to me is how different this loss is again to all the losses that have come before in the past three years. I’m more accepting of this loss than the ones before, I know what caused him to pass on from this mortal plain, and I know we did what we could and everyone who could have helped him, did their absolute best. He let us know when it was time, and his passing was peaceful and painless. He fell asleep in his final sleep in my arms and he passed quickly and calmly. We were taken care of so lovingly by our favourite assistant at the cat clinic where they knew Diego so well and we got all the time and peace and quiet we needed to say goodbye. I couldn’t be more grateful for how peaceful it all was. A peaceful passing is something I, a person with my Sun and Vesta in the 8th House (of death and loss), value very highly. As is a healthy mourning process. Which is why I again feel the need to write about my grief right now. Writing is one of my preferred ways to sort through my feelings, thoughts and issues.
Because as I said, this grieving process, this loss, feels very different again to the many losses I’ve already endured in the past few years.
When Murphy died in February 2018 it was the first time I’d ever lost a pet. I’d never had pets in my youth and this was the first time I had to deal with this concept. But eventually 2018 turned out to be a year of so much heartbreak, loss, stress and pain, the whole year turned into a blur of a nightmare. Within months after losing Murphy, my dude spiralled into a burn-out, my lovely gran turned out to have far advanced lung cancer and died and I had to deal with all this, plus family drama and work drama, and in the meantime I had nobody really to turn to but Diego.
After 2018 followed many more months of stress, burn-out fall-out, the loss of my uncle who was my mother’s younger brother, also to lung cancer on the day of my gran’s birthday in 2019, and then last year, during that fateful pandemic year the final tangible connection to my gran, Sammy, her sweet, cheerful Shelty who’d been living with my mum since my gran’s passing, also died of lung cancer.

But you see, through all this, Diego was always there. And he was so much more than a pet. It was as if he always knew what I needed. He was the cuddliest, comforting and wisest cat I could have asked for. He was my comfort and joy through everything. He was there during the hard times and the sad times, the joyful times and the rare normal times.
When we decided to bring two kitties into our lives 14 years ago, I wanted a Siamese cat, because Siamese cats are, to say it simply, extremely cuddly. They love to be around humans, they communicate very clearly and very audibly, and they usually want to be ON you.
This is exactly what we got from Diego, but we also got much more.
Because Diego was not just cuddly, he knew exactly when you needed cuddles. He also knew exactly when other people visiting us needed cuddles or when the other cats needed cuddles.
As my love has said since Diego’s passing, it was somehow as if Diego could split himself into 4 cats. He was always there for me, always lounging around on my lap, wherever I’d be, he was also always comforting my dude whenever he needed it, which was a lot in the years of his burn-out, but he was also always snuggling with Pixie or Pepper or Murphy when he was still alive.

All the losses that came before, I always had Diego with me, I could always count on a warm, furry, little body, purring on my chest or lap to make it, at least a little, better.
And now, I don’t have that anymore. As wonderful and silly and hilarious as Pixie and Pepper are, they are not sit-on-your-lap-cats.
Without Diego, the house is so empty, just a tad less warm and cosy, life is just thinner, less complete, less full. And I somehow feel less like myself. Because while I always enjoyed Diego’s presence in my life and all his hugs and snuggles to the fullest, it still feels like I took it for granted.
My cat lady, Cottage Witch, Cancer Moon, nourishing and caring identity feels incomplete without him. Because all the cat lady-ness, all the hair that was always all over me, came from him. All the cosy Hearth Witch magic I have doesn’t seem to be as strong without him, it feels like I don’t even have access to that inner source of inspiration for magical words for writing my book anymore. My Cancer Moon, nourishing and caring, empath personality is drained now that I don’t have my own little feline empath caring for me anymore. You see, I always had a lot of care to give, but it was so dependent on someone caring for me in return so that I could replenish my source, and it turns out so much of it came from my little furry familiar. And right now, I don’t how I will get back to being myself without him.
I’m sure I will eventually, because at least, by now I’ve learned to have at least that much faith in myself and in life, to trust that I will find myself again, but at the moment, I am super not there yet.
This process will take time, and I will now, more than ever, absolutely need to learn to be gentle and patient with myself. I always knew losing Diego would be hard, I just never knew it would feel like I’d not only lost a piece of my heart, but a piece of my identity.
And as weird as that is to me, to say those words, it also feels like it makes total sense and I feel a sense of relief having this realisation come to me now. Because when you know what it is you’re dealing with, you know better how to go about healing it.

So, with all the changes I’ve been going through already, this is another change I will have to absorb into my being. And the more changes that come, the more shifts, and also the more losses, the more clear it becomes to me that life is too short and precious to be wasting it on ego thoughts, inner critic bullshit, insecurities about following your passion when you are perfectly able to, and impostor syndrome. Sadness and grief are a part of life and gentleness is needed to go through them. Living the complete fullness of your best, happiest life that you can, requires embracing both the shadow and the light.
I’m walking through shadow at this point in my life, but I have to believe that there will be light again. I have to believe that Diego knew I would find my way in life without him. I am so grateful for the time I got to spend with him and for the love and connection I was blessed with for the 14 years he was with us. I will do my best to keep following my path in his honour, because I never would have found it without him.

My darling little noodle, Diego, all my love and light for you, thank you for being there for me.


thank you for sharing ---

thank you for sharing --- beautiful writing

Thank you so much, lovely ❤

Thank you so much, lovely ❤

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