One of my new foster kittens died overnight. I named her Hope in her honor after I woke up to finding her still snuggled in with her siblings, but lifeless this morning. Hope was the teeniest 3-week-old kitten I’ve ever seen. She was the tabby kitten in this scrawny little litter, and I’m heartbroken that I couldn’t save her.
I’ve lost several fosters over the years, and it is always incredibly sad. When they’re in a foster home, animals sometimes feel love and care for the first time in their lives. Sometimes being able to relax allows them to let go of the pain of life. That is typically how I feel about the senior foster dogs who have died in my care.
But for tiny, little, baby Hope it feels so tragic. Last night before I put the kittens to bed, I snuggled her and she purred in my neck for the first time. That alone made me so hopeful that we were turning a corner and she’d start to gain weight. Mornings in which I wake up to devastating news always make me second guess everything I’ve done for their care. I wish I’d woken up one more time in the middle of the night to check on them, I wish I’d forced her to eat more from the syringe, I wish I could have loved her enough to survive whatever was happening in her tiny body.
When I first started fostering kittens it shocked me to learn, tragically like I was reminded with little Hope, just how fragile their little lives are. I’d assumed that cats were survivors from the jump, but they are so frail and dependent on constant care when they are so little.
Hope’s spirit was stronger than her body. I’ll never forget her determination, fearlessness and independence. And I will fight for her brother and sister (still unnamed) to grow up.
Loss teaches us to love harder and hold tight to all that is still with us in the moment.
If it’s just one more kind word, snuggle or meal, I’m always more grateful for the work I put in with all of the rescues in my house in the wake of a loss. The memory of heartbreak encourages me to move forward with even more love.
I allow my heart to break so fewer of theirs have to. Rest in peace, Hope. I’m going to do my very best for your siblings.
