11/03/2025
This is Zombie, who sadly returned to his home planet in outer space nearly four years ago. One day, as I was walking home, I found him in an empty field—just two months old, malnourished, covered in aphids, with swollen, infected eyes, and barely any fur. His mother had abandoned him, likely due to the massive tapeworm inside him, which was bigger than he was. On top of all this, he also had calicivirus, a condition that stayed with him for life and caused him constant pain. (Swipe to see him as a baby).
Zombie was the most affectionate and grateful cat on Earth. He loved being an alarm clock, head-butting everyone, chatting nonstop, saying “goodnight” by kneading bellies, and being present for every creative moment—or rather, every moment. He even enjoyed listening to cat-specific music.
At age nine, he developed a heart murmur that required daily injections, starting at four times a day and eventually reducing to two. Amid the hardship, the pandemic allowed us to spend far more time together. We were inseparable—until his heart, both literally and figurately too big for his chest, began releasing clots. The pain spread to his leg, marking the cruelest chapter of his suffering.
Zombie lived with his heart murmur for two and a half years, a true warrior with an unbreakable spirit. From his fragile beginnings, he fought tirelessly to thrive—yet remained joyful, loving, and grateful until the end.
Cats teach us profound lessons. Even from deep sorrow, new joys emerge. Though time passes, the pawprints they leave on our lives never fade.
Zombie’s absence will always leave a void, but the warmth of his memory endures. While he’s gone, he opened the door for others in need of a home—ones who deserved the same love he received.
Losing a cherished soul hurts unbearably, but we must never close our hearts to those still waiting. They’ll never replace the ones we’ve lost, yet they need us and will return even more love than we give.❤️
