Grief Has No Measure: Mourning a Beloved Cat Through Faith

Loss does not ask permission before it enters our lives. It does not measure time, nor does it weigh how long a soul stayed with us before it leaves. Grief simply arrives—quietly or loudly—and settles in the heart. When we lost our cat, Simba, the pain surprised many, and at times, even surprised us.

He was only with us for a short period, yet love does not count years. Love recognizes presence. Simba’s presence filled our home with warmth, routine, comfort, and joy. And when he left, he took a piece of our hearts with him.

Love for Animals Is a Mercy From Allah

In Islam, compassion toward animals is not trivial—it is sacred. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught us that kindness to animals is a means of attaining Allah’s mercy, and cruelty toward them is a cause of accountability. A woman was forgiven her sins for giving water to a thirsty dog, while another was punished for imprisoning a cat without care.

These narrations remind us that our bond with animals is not insignificant. Loving a cat, grieving its loss, and feeling heartache afterward does not indicate weak faith—it reflects a merciful heart. And mercy is beloved to Allah.

Simba was not “just a cat.” He was a creation of Allah entrusted to us for a time. Caring for him, loving him, and mourning him are all acts that stem from compassion—one of the highest virtues in Islam.

The Ache of Absence

We long to have Simba back. We imagine hearing his footsteps, seeing him curl up in familiar corners, sensing his quiet companionship. But Allah, in His wisdom, reminds us that this dunya is a place of temporary attachments. Nothing here is meant to stay forever—not people, not places, not even the smallest creatures that leave the deepest marks on our hearts.

Yet, Islam does not ask us to suppress grief. Even the Prophet ﷺ wept at the loss of loved ones and said, “The eyes shed tears and the heart grieves, but we only say what pleases our Lord.” Grief, when accompanied by patience and remembrance of Allah, becomes an act of worship.

Memories That Do Not Fade

Though Simba is no longer in our home, he has not left our lives. His memories live within us—etched into daily moments, into laughter and quiet pauses. He remains in our thoughts, in the stories we tell, and in the lessons he taught us: gentleness, routine, presence, and unconditional affection.

Islam teaches us that nothing good is ever lost with Allah. Every act of care, every moment of love, every tear shed in patience is preserved. If Allah records the weight of a mustard seed, surely He records the love we gave a small, innocent soul.

Trusting Allah With What We Love

One of the hardest lessons of faith is learning to return what we love back to Allah. Simba was never truly ours—he was Allah’s creation, loaned to us for a time. And though returning that trust hurts deeply, it also draws us closer to understanding tawakkul—placing our hearts in Allah’s care.

We pray that Allah reunites all souls in ways beyond our understanding, and we trust that His mercy is far greater than our grief.

Until then, Simba lives on—in our hearts, in our prayers, and in the quiet spaces he once filled. And perhaps that is one of the most beautiful forms of remembrance.

“Indeed, to Allah we belong, and to Him we return.”

May Allah grant ease to every grieving heart and reward every tear shed with patience. Ameen. 🤍