Last week I had to put down my cat of 12 years. Poor dude had cancer and at it was at the point where emergency work was something I could not afford/there was no guarantee how much it would expand his life.
Since then, I keep waffling between guilt of not having done more, acceptance that he is no longer suffering and that it was his time and sadness when I briefly forget he's no longer with me. If I come back from my run I expect him to pop his head into the hallway to greet me, or find myself glancing at his favorite spot in my bed when I walk by my bedroom.
Worse yet the apartment feels empty. I know I want to get a new cat eventually, but part of me almost wants to get one now to fill that void, which can't be healthy.
I know there's no fix it all advice...guess maybe just looking for how people dealt with their loss?
Edit: This was Buddy. He was a lazy, cuddly boy. He got so used to my routine that at night when I turned off the living room lights and TV he would race me to my bed and jump to his sleeping spot.