08/30/2026
Goodbye, Daniel
This is the outcome every rescuer dreads most, but losing my sweet, six-year-old Daniel feels unbearable. My heart is completely shattered. He wasn’t just another rescue cat in our care—he was my baby from day one.
I hand-raised Daniel from birth. When his momma pushed him out of the nest far earlier than his siblings, I stepped in, and from that moment on, my lap became his permanent safe haven.
I knew right away he was going to be a true "Velcro Cat." Back then, I spent my days making jewelry—beading, macrame, and wire wrapping. I kept my current projects on a large plastic tray under the couch that I’d pull onto my lap to work. Daniel would climb up and simply flop his little body directly across the tray, totally indifferent to whatever he was covering. I’d be scrambling in a panic to move beading needles and thread, desperately trying to keep tiny cups of beads from spilling everywhere. I couldn't help being a little annoyed at times, but mostly I was just terrified he’d get hurt, and besides, who can be mad at a precious kitten seeking love?? 🥹 Daniel is a huge reason I eventually shelved my jewelry making—a creative outlet I still miss dearly.
Because he had to be weaned way too early, those lap visits turned into comforting suckling sessions. His entire life, he would climb into my lap multiple times EVERY.SINGLE.DAY, curl into a tight kitty doughnut, and knead my tummy, arms, legs—whatever he could reach—while suckling his own tail. It melted me every single time. He would gaze right up into my eyes, and if he sensed I wasn't paying enough attention to our cuddle session, he’d lift his head, push his sweet little face right into mine—“Hey Mom, pay attention!”—and only go back to suckling once he was sure he had my full devotion.
He was bursting with fire and personality. He adored getting his cheeks and chin combed; all I had to do was hold up the comb across the room and he’d come zooming in seconds. The rattle of a treat container sent him racing just as fast. On days when treat service wasn't prompt enough, he’d start climbing the kitchen appliances—perching on top of the upright freezer, scaling bookshelves, or leaping onto the curtain rods to dash across the room from up high. 😅 That's personality!
At night, his chosen spot was curled half on my hip bone & half on a pillow I would place there for him. I feel the crushing weight of his absence there. Last night, I couldn't even bring myself to lie down; I just curled up against the pillows on the couch in our special cuddle spot, missing him, painfully.
FIV makes everything harder. Things other cats might easily weather can quickly spiral into life-threatening, chronic battles. If it had just been FIV alone, we would have fought it without hesitation—we’ve loved and cared for many FIV+ kitties. But when Panleukopenia hit, the battle became impossible for his depleted little body to win. His fever stubbornly loomed, and his white cell count refused to budge, stealing all hope. He hadn't accepted any food for four days at this point, and he only accepted a handful of treats for two days prior. Six days without proper nutrition — it's no wonder that his body wasn't recovering.
I stayed right beside him at the end. I held his head, letting his chin rest gently in the palm of my hand as it grew heavy from the medication. We made eye contact, and I stroked his body, kissed his sweet forehead, and spoke softly to him as he drifted away into peace.
I then nuzzled his neck, crying into his beautiful long black fur, and sobbed into it, “I will never forget you, baby. Never. Never. Never. Never. I love you so much.”
😣 Goodbyes are so impossibly hard. 😣
💢 Life can be so damn unfair. 💢
Right now, I am just waiting for the vet to call so I can bring his clay paw print home. 🐾
Rest easy, my sweet boy Daniel. You were so deeply, endlessly loved. 🐾💔🌈
