The Never-Ending Regret and Guilt of Losing a Beloved Cat: How One Owner Found Freedom from Self-Loathing

You have done everything you could. Even when you believe that, once the cat you loved—who was always by your side—is no longer there, you may begin to doubt the correctness of the choices you made.

"If only I had made a different choice back then..." Getting stuck in such "what ifs," being unable to forgive yourself, and feeling your heart ache even more is a common experience after pet loss.

In this article, I would like to share some perspectives to keep in mind when you feel this way, to help protect your heart.

Wanting to be free from "self-negation" for the sake of my late cat

In truth, I myself also lost sight of whether my choices had been correct and blamed myself intensely after losing my pet. Honestly, even now, there are parts of me that cannot fully say, "That choice was the right one."

However, it occurred to me one day: If I continue to negate myself like this and spend my days in 100% sorrow, won't I just be worrying my cat in heaven?

In her final moments, I felt that my cat, Jiji, had been hanging on until I was able to accept her "death." It was as if she were saying, "You can't manage without me, can you?" Even when her chest filled with fluid and it became difficult to breathe, she continued to eat and weave her life forward.

She breathed her last only after I told her, "It's okay to do whatever you want now, Jiji. I will respect whatever you choose."

I believe that kind soul of hers was watching over me all along, harboring a sort of parental concern that she couldn't pass on peacefully until she heard those words.

I don't want to keep worrying Jiji, who cared for me even when her own life was hanging by a thread. Thinking this, I decided to find a way to accept the choices I had made and forgive myself in my own way.

What follows is simply the "way to forgive myself" that I arrived at. I don't claim it works for everyone, but I would be happy if it could be a trigger to change, even slightly, the days you spend in self-negation.

① Try looking back at photos of your cat objectively

After pet loss, when self-negation intensifies, it becomes easy for negative thoughts to surface, such as "Was she happy living with me?" or "Maybe she would have lived longer if she had been taken in by someone else..."

At times like those, I want you to look back at the photos and videos you have collected. Whether it's her talking, rubbing against you, or showing those "tsun-tsun" (cold and aloof) behaviors that only happen because she trusted you—these moments capture the unique expressions of love your cat showed only because you were her owner.

When you view these moments objectively, without your own subjective feelings, you will surely think, "Maybe I was able to make her happy, even just a little."

Immediately after pet loss, it is often psychologically difficult to look at images of them while they were alive, so I recommend trying this method only when you feel, "I might be able to look now..."

Your cat on the screen likely has a happier and more satisfied expression than you remember. Precisely because our subjective thoughts often run wild when we are sad or distressed, I want you to try once to be calm and look back on the days you spent together from an objective perspective.

② Remember not only what you "couldn't do," but also what you "were able to do"

For a while after losing my cat, I would hold her urn and keep apologizing for what I couldn't do.

I'm sorry I couldn't cure your illness. I'm sorry I didn't have the strength to force you to go to another hospital. I'm sorry I chose palliative care over aggressive treatment, even though it was out of concern for the risks to your body.

And above all, I'm truly sorry that even though it was your body, the treatment plan was decided entirely by human will, simply because I was your owner. I kept repeating such "sorrys" over and over.

But one day, my husband said to me, "We couldn't save her, but we tried hard. We desperately looked for a hospital open during the New Year's holidays, and you went to visit her every day while she was hospitalized, didn't you? You also allowed her to receive the treatment that was possible at the time. I think there was plenty that we were able to do for her."

Is that how it looked to an outsider...? As I realized that, I was struck by the realization that I myself had been the least able to understand what I "was able to do" for my cat.

When you are moving recklessly, time passes in an instant. Because unpleasant memories and regrets remain strongly in our minds, we often treat what we "were able to do" as if it never happened or downplay it as "something that should have been done anyway."

But when I look back carefully, I was certainly always doing my best, desperately trying to help Jiji.

Once I realized this and my perspective on my own actions changed, my heart felt a little lighter.

When I look at social media, I get the impression that there are many people who, like me, regret what they "couldn't do" and fail to acknowledge what they "could do." That is why I want to say this: In a fight against illness where there is no 100% correct answer, you undoubtedly tried your best and loved your cat more than anyone could.

Please do not disparage your own choices; acknowledge the fact that "there were things you were able to do," and please forgive yourself, even just a little.

I believe that because of the things you "were able to do" and the choices you made while struggling at that time, your cat was able to live even one day longer.

③ It’s okay to have a "self that cannot forgive"

We often want to somehow eliminate the self we dislike. When the "self I dislike" surfaces, the heart feels painful. Therefore, even when a "self that cannot forgive" emerges after experiencing pet loss, it is easy to think, "I shouldn't be like this."

But I think it’s okay to have a "self that cannot forgive." After all, that self was born from a gentle feeling of truly caring about your cat and wanting to protect their life.

The time spent worrying whether your choices were right is certainly painful, and we want our daily lives to be as happy as possible. However, we who are entrusted with lives do not always have happy things happen, and there is much we can learn precisely by repeating painful experiences and difficult self-questioning.

For example, had we not experienced the death of our cat, we might never have felt the weight of the happiness of having them by our side so deeply. Perhaps we might never have learned the fervent feeling of "wanting to protect one life with all my might."

Furthermore, the self-abasement of not being able to protect a life can sometimes connect to the strength needed to protect the next cat you welcome or another person's precious cat.

The fact that you question the correctness of the choices you made while struggling means you are a wonderful person who can prioritize other lives over your own. On days when you cannot forgive yourself, I believe that accepting those feelings as they are—"It's only natural that I blame myself because I loved her so much"—can lead to peace of mind.

You don't have to force yourself to act cheerful, and you don't have to punish the self that cannot forgive. As much as you can, sleep, eat, and if necessary, receive professional counseling, and please treat yourself with kindness—the self that faced one life so earnestly that it led to self-abasement.

What your late cat likely wishes for most is that her beloved owner lives a healthy life even after she is gone. For the sake of this final act of "filial piety" you can show your cat (myself included), I hope we can start by cherishing our own hearts.

Article list by this author>>