Thor’s Passing: Reflection of the first 46 Days.

Thor passed away after 6 years and 8 months, leaving behind his brother, Blackie. 

It was a sudden and devastating loss—not just for me, but for Blackie, who had never known life without his brother. 

From the very beginning, he was a cat who needed company, either human or feline. Unlike Thor, who was independent and direct, Blackie was sensitive, clingy, and emotionally driven.  

In the days that followed Thor’s passing, Blackie’s behavior changed dramatically. He went through a deep grieving process, altering his routines, withdrawing from the world, and ultimately making the decision to let go. Here is a detailed account of how he spent those 46 days.  

Week 1: Searching for Thor

The first few days were filled with confusion and withdrawal. Blackie would sit in unusual spots, staring at nothing in particular. He wasn’t engaging with us the way he normally did, and it felt like he was either searching for Thor or waiting for him to return. He often looked up at the ceiling or at lights, as if hoping to see his brother again.  

By Day 17, a clear pattern had emerged. Blackie started sitting in the patio outside the kitchen at night. He would spend hours gazing at the moonlight or the light coming from the neighbor’s house. It wasn’t a casual habit—it was an intentional, solemn act, as if he was searching for something beyond what we could see.  

At night, his routine shifted. Instead of coming inside like he used to, he lingered outside longer. I took him out to the front yard, where he would take a slow turn around before going to his kitty potty and finally coming back in.  

 Week 2: Changes in Eating and Morning Routines

By Day 18, Blackie’s morning routine changed. Before, he would go downstairs early for his first meal, then go about his day. Now, he no longer went downstairs for breakfast on his own. Instead, he would sleep at the foot of my bed and wait until I got up. Only when I started my morning routine would he follow me downstairs for his meal.  

Once he finished eating, he would follow me outside when I put on my shoes and find a chair to rest in the yard. He seemed to be avoiding being inside the house alone for too long.  

At this point, he also became pickier about food. He had always been easygoing with meals, but now, he refused kibbles and insisted on wet food in the mornings. It was as if he had lost his appetite for things that reminded him of his old routine.  

 Week 3: Increased Withdrawal and Nighttime Changes

By Night 19, Blackie’s behavior took another turn. He had fully adopted the habit of sitting on his blanket in the patio after dinner, looking up for hours. But something else changed—he started disappearing.  

One night, I went dancing for about three hours, and when I returned, he was nowhere to be found. Normally, he would be somewhere around the house, either outside or inside waiting for me. But this time, he was missing. He only came back at midnight when I called him in.  

From this point onward, Blackie hardly went outside at night anymore. It was as if he no longer had the energy or desire to explore beyond his small, familiar spaces.  

Week 4: Settling into a Routine of Grief

By the fourth week, Blackie’s new habits were firmly in place. His days were spent following me more closely than ever. His nights were spent on the patio after dinner, always looking up. His eating habits remained selective, and his movements were slower.  

I realized that Blackie wasn’t just grieving—he was withdrawing from life. He ignored most people, lost interest in things that once excited him, and carried a quiet sadness wherever he went. It wasn’t just a phase; it was a deep emotional shift.  

Week 5: The Final Days and Letting Go

Blackie’s grief was profound. He had always relied on Thor for stability, and now, without him, he had no anchor. He wasn’t the type of cat who thrived alone. If I looked back on his life, I could see the signs—he had always needed to be close to someone. When Thor used to withdraw into his own space, Blackie would call for him. And when Thor didn’t answer, I would answer instead.  

But I think, deep down, Blackie knew that this time, no one could answer for Thor.  

On the last day, Blackie let go. He had always been healthy, with no underlying conditions. There was no medical reason for his passing—it was as if he simply decided he couldn’t do this without Thor.  

Reflections on Blackie’s Last 46 Days

In the 46 days after Thor’s passing, Blackie went through every stage of grief: searching, changing routines, withdrawing, and ultimately making peace with his loss.

He was never meant to be alone. And in the end, he chose not to be.  

Losing both of them in such a short span has left a deep void. The house is quiet now. 

My habits—keeping the door ajar, checking on them—are still ingrained in me. But I am trying to find new ways to cope.  

Thor was my independent, intuitive explorer. Blackie was my soft-hearted, loyal companion. They both followed me through every move and every change.

 Now, for the first time, I am the one left behind, trying to navigate life without them.  

The Sudden Loss of Blackie

Just as I was adjusting to life after Thor’s passing, I lost Blackie as well. He had always been healthy, with no underlying conditions, so his passing was a complete shock. Looking back, it became clear—he had let go. Thor was gone, and Blackie, unable to face life without him, followed.

The day after his passing, I realized how deeply my habits were tied to caregiving. Keeping the door ajar, checking on them—these were second nature to me. Now, the house was quiet. No Thor. No Blackie.

Grief and Finding New Rhythms

In the days after Blackie’s passing, I struggled to adjust. I took a staycation on Night 5 after his death, needing space to process everything. There was a heaviness I couldn’t shake. I found myself observing stray cats, watching how they lived. 

On Day 9, someone showed me a baby kitten and asked if I wanted to adopt it, but I declined. I wasn’t in the mental space to make such a decision.

By Day 10, I considered uncovering the styrofoam covering Blackie’s burial site but decided against it due to the weather. I knew I had to wait at least 14 days for the burial site to settle, but patience was difficult.

To cope, I started bringing my Garfield soft toy with me as an emotional support item. Feeding stray cats also became a small source of comfort—perhaps influenced by Cassie, but also a way to channel my grief into something meaningful.

Day 37 and Beyond: Processing Loss

Today is Day 37 after Blackie’s passing. Grief still lingers. The house still feels empty. Some habits, like keeping the door ajar, are hard to shake. But I am slowly finding ways to cope, even if it takes time.

Thor and Blackie were never just pets to me. They were family. When I adopted them, I made an unspoken promise that wherever I went, they would follow. And they did—through every move, every change. 

Now, I am the one left behind, trying to navigate a world without them.