We all do hard things in life. Whenever anyone asks me to describe the hardest thing I’ve ever done, my thoughts flow to the season I learned to ice climb. Definitely, without a doubt, one of the hardest mental and physical things I have ever willingly done.

But then you also have to do hard things not of your choosing. I was reminded late last night of just how much harder those can be.

Caddis (aka Sweet Pea), our deeply loved domestic shorthaired tabby cat, was 17 years old, having come into our lives via the Portland Humane Society. She chose us that day, sticking her paws out of the cage to entice us to take her home, which we did.

She lived in 3 states and spent a lot of her time holding pillows down. She liked to be carried around outside (she was mostly an indoor cat, afraid of the big bad world out there) and liked to snuggle with me on my pillow at night.

It was obvious last night that the time had come. Her body had succumbed to kidney failure and she was suffering.

We had a pretty grueling emotional time with losing our last cat in 2006. That chronically ill cat had to be placed in a vet’s care while we went on a long-scheduled vacation. The stress of that situation pushed her body over the edge. The day we came off the trail (and were still not home), I had a phone call from the vet telling me that she wouldn’t make it through the night. So we had to let her go from afar. I am obviously am still feeling some guilt about that based on how much it has hit me in the last 12 hours.

This time around, with Caddis, we could make the decision in her presence. Those of you that have done this with a much-loved pet know just how hard it is. Next time I feel daunted by a double century, or a 50k trail run, or a multi-day backpack with a pack that is too heavy, I will remind myself that those things are really very easy compared to telling the vet “go ahead” and feeling a body lose its warmth in your arms.

She went quickly and peacefully. Rest in peace, Sweet Pea.