Francis had been missing for a week, and I was literally sick to my stomach with worry. Yesterday, my friend Heather saw a cat by the side of the road across from our house. She called to tell me, so I went out to look. It was my Francis. I was devastated. I carried him to the back of the property where we live and stayed with him for maybe an hour. After talking to my mom, I realized I needed to bury him. I started that and my other friend Marlene helped me finish. It was really hard to leave him out there, but I had to. I had really bonded with him and don’t understand why he had to die. I’ve had more than the average loss for someone my age, and I’m not ok with this one. I know that anyone who has never had a pet won’t understand this, but I feel like a part of me died. I didn’t even have him for 2 years. I know I should be thankful for the time I had, but I’m not there yet. He was with me as much as I could manage. I loved him so much, and the idea of not holding, kissing, playing with, hearing his insistent meow, or even smelling him, is killing me. My heart is breaking.