"Please give me a little bit of your fur." The "post-mortem" way to preserve "proof that my beloved cat lived."

Losing a beloved cat that was always by your side leaves a cat-shaped hole in your heart. The thought of living without that cherished presence can make your heart feel unstable.

To somehow survive such days, it’s important to preserve “evidence that your cat lived.” This time, I’ve picked out a few things I believe are good to keep after saying goodbye to your beloved cat, so please use them as a reference.

Keep some fur

Each cat’s fur somehow has a different scent. My late beloved cat, Gigi, had a mysteriously sweet and nostalgic scent.

After Gigi passed away, the hardest thing was not being able to touch his fluffy fur that I always petted.

"You're here, even if I can't see you." Protecting my heart with that thought, I'd reach out to pet Gigi, but all I'd touch was air. The emptiness and loneliness I felt in those moments were too profound for words.

What eased that heartache was Gigi's fur, which I received before his cremation. In our case, before the cremation, the pet funeral service staff asked, "Would you like to keep some fur?" But since I wanted to send him off in the most beautiful state possible, I had already brushed him beforehand and stored the shed fur in a Ziploc bag, so I declined the funeral service's kind offer.

Gigi absolutely hated being brushed when he was alive. So, when he finally let me brush him quietly, it was heartbreaking as I truly realized, "He's really gone..."

However, I'm glad that I was able to send him off to the Rainbow Bridge with a beautiful coat, and that I could keep some of Gigi's fur as a "last brushing."

The fur I received was later transferred to a perfume-shaped case from a 100-yen store and placed on the altar. (Note: an insect repellent is placed behind it so it's not visible from the front.)

When I want to touch Gigi, I take it out and "cat sniff" it just like when he was alive. Although I feel a little sad that "it smells like insect repellent...", touching the fluffy fur makes the cat-shaped hole feel a bit filled.

In my case, I received a good amount of fur, and thanks to that, I feel like I can re-experience his fluffiness from when he was alive. There are also pendants now that can hold cat fur, so consider the quantity when you collect some.

Keep a few clipped claws

Looking back now, I wish I had kept Gigi’s claws. I regret not clipping his nails one last time and storing the fragments in a small glass jar or something similar.

This is because after Gigi passed away, I wanted to collect as much evidence of his existence as possible, so I once searched for claw fragments. I couldn't find any in the end, but the thought of "what if there were some..." made it hard for me to vacuum.

Having your cat's claws allows you to reminisce about "fond memories of nail clipping." In Gigi's case, he absolutely hated having his nails clipped and would thrash around, unlike my other cats. I always had to ask the vet to do it, but even then, it took three people to gently hold him down and speak to him.

If I still had his claws, such a scene that brings a chuckle would probably come to mind more easily.

Those slightly amusing memories really help when you're grieving the loss of your beloved cat. At the moment of their passing, you're so focused on that moment that it's hard to think of "keeping claws," and rigor mortis sets in afterwards, so I realized it's important to keep their claws while they're alive.

Keep whiskers

Gigi's charm point was his overly curled whiskers. He probably had some curly-haired cat blood mixed in. They were straight when he was a kitten, but somehow started curling over time. I was so oblivious that I only noticed it when a follower expressed surprise, saying, "His whiskers are curled!" and I thought, "You're right!"

Sometimes, they were even in his mouth.

Although we have multiple cats, Gigi's whiskers had the peculiar characteristic of falling out only after curling to their maximum, so I could distinguish his whiskers from others that fell on the floor.

However, I didn't collect whiskers much, citing daily busyness, so now I only have two. One of them was left by Gigi in the oxygen cage installed at home just before he passed away.

The whiskers I kept are placed in a paulownia wood box I received from a follower and displayed on the altar, but sometimes I pick them up and look at them. When I do, a gentle laugh naturally escapes me as I think, "He really was a cat unlike any other cat."

Even if your cat doesn't have such a strong personality as Gigi's, your cat's whiskers can become a treasure after their passing, making you feel closer to "that child." For those who don't regularly collect whiskers like me, I recommend taking some time to "search for your cat's whiskers" by looking around the room before vacuuming after your cat has passed away.

By the way, if you have multiple cats, it might be difficult to distinguish their whiskers and store them individually, so it might be a good idea to prepare a "whiskers for everyone" case.

Thinking, "They're still all playing together in the whisker case," can bring a little smile to your face.

Keep the bones through individual cremation

What I’m most glad I kept is my beloved cat’s bones. I chose individual cremation and had his ashes placed in an urn, and I’m truly glad I made that choice. When I feel lonely or miss him, hugging the urn makes me feel like I’m hugging Gigi.

When requesting cremation from a pet funeral service, you can choose between "communal cremation," where animals are cremated together, and "individual cremation," where only one pet is cremated. If you wish to keep the bones, be sure to request individual cremation.

Animal cremation can also be performed by local governments, but in most cases, this will be communal cremation, and the bones will not be returned. Also, while it is cheaper, I hear that the remains can sometimes be incinerated with general waste, so when cremating, it is best to carefully consider how you wish to mourn your beloved cat and then choose whether or not to keep the bones.

My routine now is to hug the urn as soon as I wake up and say, "Good morning, I love you today too," and before going to sleep, I say, "Goodnight, I love you." When I feel too lonely, I place the urn beside me while working or playing games to escape reality.

Values regarding the death of animals vary, and I've been told things like, "It's excessive to keep a cat's bones," or "Wouldn't it be better to spend the money on individual cremation on something else?" But if I hadn't kept Gigi's bones, I would have regretted it endlessly.

I feel that my beloved cat's bones also have the power to protect my heart, allowing me to believe, "Even if I can't see them, they are by my side."

Review how you save photos and videos on your smartphone

I haven't done it yet, but what I want to do in the future is to review how I save the photos and videos I've accumulated so that "the days we spent together" don't disappear.

I want to move photos and videos stored on old smartphones to Google Drive or similar platforms so they don't become inaccessible.

However, since online services can end, I sometimes think that the best option might be a classic, handmade album...

While videos can only be saved to cloud storage, I'm thinking of diligently compiling photos into an album to ensure they never disappear.

Photos and videos are great for objectively viewing "the days with your beloved cat." After losing a cat, you tend to focus on "what you couldn't do" or "what you wished you had done," and are consumed by regret. But when you look at your cat in photos and videos objectively, they often appear surprisingly happy.

When I noticed that expression, the guilt I felt inside lessened a little, and I thought, "Maybe even a hopeless servant like me was able to make him a little happy."

Decorate the altar with many memories of the days they lived

It would be too sad if the days with my beloved cat ended just because he passed away. I want my beloved cat to continue to be a part of my daily life. That's why what I'm working hard on now is decorating the altar with many memories and preserving the evidence that Gigi was here.

It's a great era now. Thanks to the "oshi-katsu" (fandom activities) boom, you can create various original goods for your beloved cat, and you can buy decorations to adorn your altar at 100-yen shops and Three Coins for a good price.

Gigi's altar is now increasingly lively, decorated with artworks received from followers, photos from his lifetime, and illustrations drawn by creators.

Initially, the altar only had the urn. As it became more vibrant, I felt my own heart lighten a little.

Next, I wonder if I should make a fan for a concert that says, "Always a Gigi Fan"... When I think like that, I feel a little bit like, "I'm still living with Gigi."

Preserving evidence of your beloved cat's life by "decorating an altar" connects to "continuing to live with your deceased cat."

To say "living together even after death" is a contradiction in terms. However, in such a contradictory world, we are allowed to always think of, cherish, and love our beloved cats.

I hope that the "ways to preserve evidence of your cat's existence" that I've learned can bring a little comfort to someone else who is experiencing the same pain.