It’s much too soon to be writing this. Just a month ago, we lost Walter, and now, we’ve had to say goodbye to another pet. Our sweet old lady, Molly, has passed on.

She, like Walter, also suffered from chronic kidney disease, and it caught up with her faster than any of us, her doctor included, could have predicted.

We got back from Los Angeles, and things were off with her. Luckily, I already had an appointment with her vet for that Tuesday, and we learned that her kidney disease had progressed dramatically. From there, we worked aggressively with her vet, having her hospitalized every day that week, to try and stave off the disease and get her back home. But sadly, by Monday, there was nothing more we could do. We brought her back home, and she passed quickly and quietly, snuggled up in her bed with her beloved alligator toy.

Molly was Von’s grandma’s cat. Back in 2018, after some medical issues, Kathleen had come to live with us in our tiny, one-bedroom apartment in Towson. Eventually, in 2019 she moved into her own place in Sparrow’s Point, and wanted a cat companion, so we started visiting shelters to find the perfect pal for her. We found Molly among the cats available for adoption at the Petsmart in Dundalk, and they took to each other immediately. Molly was sassy, full of personality, and incredibly loving.

She absolutely adored Kathleen, and they were inseparable. Molly would demand her attention—and her food; she loved the icing from Costco cinnamon rolls—and would seemingly resent Von and I when we would come to visit, or god forbid take her out to go shopping or any such thing. It didn’t help that our early interactions with Molly were to give her medication she needed (and despised) so there was an association between us and making Molly’s day unpleasant. Grandma thought it was funny how much Molly seemed to dislike us.

We took Molly in after Kathleen passed. Because we hadn’t traditionally had a great relationship, I was worried about how things would go once she was in the house. But almost immediately she warmed to us. She was the sweetest, most loving cat. Anyone who came to visit and got to spend the night quickly became acquainted with her little pokes for attention and snuggly nature.

She never cared for other cats, which didn’t bother Walter, who I firmly believe never truly realized she was in the house, but she and Nami would beef. Nami was so curious about this new addition to the house, and would always try to visit her. These rarely ended without a noisy confrontation, but I don’t think the little one meant any harm.

Molly gravitated more to me than Von when she came to live with us. But when Von was pregnant, she became so loving and caring to Von. Molly would lay on her belly and dote on her, in her own cat way. And when our little man was born, Molly took to him quickly, and he to her. Molly was easily his favorite of the cats, and I don’t know how it’s going to go when he truly realizes she’s gone. How he’ll react when he leads us to the basement stairs and says “go see Molly?” and there’s no Molly to go see. He loved to go downstairs to give her treats. What now?

When I brought her back to the vet to make the arrangements for her, our guy came with me. He gave her some last pets, and I told him we had to say goodbye to Molly. He said “goodbye Molly. I love you Molly” in his toddler voice, and it broke my heart. He’s only two, it’s a lot to expect him to understand death. I didn’t expect to have opportunity to discuss it with him yet, let alone twice so quickly.

While our toddler may not understand, Nami certainly does. They say cats grieve just like humans, and you can see how the two deaths affected Nami. We took her in as an abandoned ~4 week old kitten, Walter was, by and large, all she knew of cats. When he passed, she seemed to gravitate more to Molly, not in a combative way, but to find another companion (Molly would have none of it). Now Molly is gone, and Nami is the only cat in the house, something she’s never experienced before. She seems confused by the change. Her usual skittishness is at war with a renewed desire to be around us. I hope, with time, she’s able to find some peace. I hope we all can.

I like to think Molly was happy in our home. She missed Kathleen, of course, but she seemed to settle into her own space here. Especially once the guest room became Killian’s room and the basement became her domain. She liked it when we’d watch movies down there, or play video games, or bring our new little baby down to sit and feed him while she sniffed at him.

And over the last few months, she had started to spend a lot more time upstairs with us, even more so since Walter passed. We liked to say she and Nami were each trying to stake their claim on the living room. Molly seemed to be winning.

She had also gotten into the habit of having breakfast with us before getting the little guy off to school. She’d come upstairs, stand up against his high chair or my leg, asking for pets, and just hanging out with us. He would say “hi Molly!” when she’d come up, and it was very cute and sweet.

The basement in particular feels so strange without her. She notoriously shed a lot, so her presence is everywhere down there. Much like I instinctively want to say “hi Walter” when coming into the living room still, I say “hi Molly” or “hey Molls” when coming down the stairs. Her prescription food and bag of electrolyte fluids are still there, just waiting.

My heart is still broken over Walter, and I definitely wasn’t ready to grieve another pet. I really hoped Molly was just having a rough patch and would perk back up, maybe not to full strength, but we’d get through this and have more time with her. Adding onto all this her being grandma’s cat, the loss is even more painful. One more connection severed.

If there is a hereafter, I do like the idea of the two of them being together again. I’m sorry I didn’t give you one last cinnamon roll for the road, Molly. Here’s to our sweet old lady, gone too soon.

Molly Brightbill
2011 - 2026