Goodbye, Sunny

My cat Sunny passed away. He was almost five years old, and he lived a good life: a wild, curious, stubborn, beautiful life.

On the afternoon of July 5th, I found him lying outside, looking strange. He couldn’t use his legs, and his eyes were rolling. He was lethargic, barely responsive. It was too late, I knew in my gut. He was suffering, and he was leaving. I called the vet, but the answer was vague. It could’ve been anything: a stroke, a brain tumor pressing on motor areas, poisoning, or even an accident. We’ll never really know.

While we struggled with what to do, we did everything we could: fed him wet food, gave him water, helped him stand, stroked him, and comforted him. Eventually, we made the devastating choice to help him pass. I won’t go into the details because honestly, it traumatized me.

I wrapped Sunny in a blanket, buried him in the garden, and planted flowers where he now rests.

Sunny’s Story

Sunny was a good boy. He could be a pain in the ass sometimes, especially when he woke us up at 5 a.m. demanding food, but he wasn’t one of those lazy, nap-all-day cats. He had wildness in his soul. He needed the outdoors, the fields, the wind, the hunt. He had a dark fluffy cat friend who used to wait for him in our garden so they could go off exploring together. He’d disappear for days, especially in summer, and return home like nothing happened: starving, dirty, happy.

He came into our lives on the evening of December 18th, 2019. We were already in bed when I heard a kitten crying outside. It was raining. It was winter. I went out to check, and there he was… a tiny thing, scared and wet but fierce. I brought him inside, fed him, let him sleep in a box. The next morning, I had to leave him outside, crying and scared that he’d be gone for good… but he came back. He kept coming back. Every time, he brought more joy with him.

Misty, our dog, loved her little brother. They played together, slept near each other, never once fought. They were bonded. So were we.

I named him Sunny because I thought he was a girl. Turned out I was wrong, but the name stayed; it suited him. Over time, his list of nicknames got longer and more ridiculous: Sunny, Sun, Sunu, Nuno, Nino, Prrr Meow, Very Good Bad Boy, Little Tiger… and others I’m honestly too embarrassed to write.

But he was loved. Deeply.

A Letter to Sunny

I’m a firm believer in writing letters to those we’ve lost, even if they’ll never read them. I know he’s “just a cat,” but this grief is real, and I need to get these words out of my chest and into the universe.

My dearest Sunny,
I’ve been crying non-stop since you left. There’s a Sunny-shaped hole in my heart, and it aches more than I thought it could.

Saying goodbye to you was one of the most painful things I’ve ever done. I held you, fed you, tried to comfort you. I carried you because your little legs couldn’t work anymore. And every time I did, it shattered me.

You were slipping away, and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t fix you. I didn’t know how. That fierce, hungry little explorer who used to bolt through the door was suddenly so small and so tired.

When I said goodbye, your eyes couldn’t even find me, even though I was right in front of you. I don’t know how long you’d been in pain. You never showed it. I’ll probably carry that guilt for a long time, even though I know you’d forgive me.

I would give anything to hear your demanding meow again. To feel you curl up on my lap. To watch you stretch out by the window. I still look outside expecting to see you there.

Do you remember our first night together? You were meowing in the rain. I called, “Sunny, come over here,” and you did. You sat in my lap until my legs went numb. From that moment, you were mine. I didn’t rescue you, you chose me. And I’ll always be grateful for that.

You were so polite. Never wrecked anything. Always went outside to do your business, even in bad weather. You never hurt my plants. You were pure, special, and free.

I wasn’t ready for you to go. But I’ve learned, no one ever is. Grief doesn’t follow rules. It just moves in, takes your breath away, and leaves you aching for all the small things you didn’t realize you’d miss.

I hope you’re in some sunlit patch of pet heaven with Lucky, Baby, Chico, Chiquinho, Brownie, and Beaver… eating, stretching, and doing your weird little sideways gallop across the grass.

You brought more joy to my life than words can ever really hold. And even though you’re no longer with me in body, I know you’re still here in spirit. In the sunbeams. In the wind through the window. In the quiet moments where I still feel your presence.

Rest well, my little ginger prrr Sunny Bun Bun. Mamãe te ama muito.
Forever.