miércoles, 25 de febrero de 2026

🐾 Cuando Decimos Adiós a un Amigo de Cuatro Patas


El duelo que muchos no entienden, pero el corazón sí.


Hace unos años perdí a mi gato Wisky.

Después, a mi gata Nia.


Y para mí… no fueron “solo gatos”.


Fueron compañía en silencios que nadie más veía.

Fueron rutina.

Fueron presencia.

Fueron esos pequeños seres que se acomodaban cerca sin hacer preguntas, pero diciéndolo todo.


Cuando se fueron, la casa no sonaba igual.

Había un vacío extraño. No solo físico… emocional.


Y entendí algo que muchas personas no comprenden:

cuando una mascota se va, no estás llorando un animal.

Estás llorando un vínculo.


💔 Un dolor que muchos minimizan

El especialista en duelo David Kessler, reconocido por su trabajo junto a Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, explica que:


“El duelo refleja el amor.

Si el amor fue profundo, el duelo también lo será.”


No existe una jerarquía del dolor.

El corazón no clasifica el amor por especie.


Sin embargo, el duelo por una mascota suele vivirse en silencio.

Porque hay quien dice: “Era solo un perro”, “Era solo un gato”.


Pero no.

Era parte de tu historia.


📖 El libro que me ayudó a entender

En uno de los momentos más difíciles, el libro Usted puede sanar su corazón, de Louise Hay y David Kessler, me ayudó profundamente.


Ahí comprendí que el duelo no es una debilidad.

Es una expresión natural del amor.


Ellos hablan de algo muy poderoso:

no se trata de “superar” la pérdida.

Se trata de integrar el amor que hubo y encontrar significado en la experiencia.


Eso cambió mi manera de vivir la despedida.


🕊️ Cuando decir adiós es un acto de amor

Hoy muchas personas enfrentan la decisión de dejar partir a su mascota para evitarle sufrimiento.


Y esa decisión duele doble.

Porque el corazón quiere retener… pero el amor quiere aliviar.


No es abandono.

No es egoísmo.

Es, muchas veces, el último acto de compasión.


Amar también es saber cuándo sostener… y cuándo soltar.


🌿 Lo que queda

El sonido que ya no se escucha.

El espacio vacío donde dormía.

Las fotos.

Las historias.


Y algo más profundo:

la certeza de que amamos sin condiciones.


Tal vez esa sea la enseñanza más grande que nos dejan.

Que el amor no depende de palabras, ni de especie, ni de tiempo.


Si dejó huella en tu corazón… era familia.

🐾 When We Say Goodbye to a Four-Legged Friend



The kind of grief many don’t understand… but the heart does.


Years ago, I lost my cat Wisky.

Later, I lost my cat Nia.


And to me… they were not “just cats.”


They were companionship in silences no one else could see.

They were routine.

They were presence.

They were those small beings who would settle nearby without asking questions, yet somehow saying everything.


When they were gone, the house didn’t sound the same.

There was a strange emptiness. Not only physical… but emotional.


And I understood something many people don’t:

when a pet leaves, you are not crying for an animal.

You are grieving a bond.


💔 A Grief Many People Minimize

Grief expert David Kessler , known for his work alongside Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, explains:


“Grief is a reflection of love.

If the love was deep,

the grief will be deep.”


There is no hierarchy in pain.

The heart does not classify love by species.


Yet pet loss is often experienced in silence.

Because someone might say, “It was just a dog,” or “It was just a cat.”


But no.

They were part of your story.


📖 The Book That Helped Me Understand

During one of my most difficult moments, the book You Can Heal Your Heart by Louise Hay and David Kessler helped me deeply.


Through its pages, I learned that grief is not weakness.

It is a natural expression of love.


They teach something powerful:

it’s not about “getting over” a loss.

It’s about integrating the love that existed and finding meaning in the experience.


That changed the way I lived my goodbyes.


🕊️ When Letting Go Is an Act of Love

Many people face the painful decision of letting their pet go to prevent further suffering.


And that decision breaks the heart in two.

One part wants to hold on.

The other wants to protect from pain.


It is not abandonment.

It is not betrayal.

It is often the purest act of compassion.


To love also means knowing when to hold… and when to release.


🌿 What Remains

The sound that is no longer there.

The empty space where they used to sleep.

The photos.

The stories.


And something deeper still:

the certainty that we loved without conditions.


Perhaps that is the greatest lesson they leave us.

That love does not depend on words, species, or time.


If they left a mark on your heart…

they were family.

sábado, 21 de febrero de 2026

🐾 “Her Majesty Moshi and the Blue-Eyed Stranger”



Episode 1: The Day He Arrived


The house was at peace.


Sunlight drifted gently through the window.

Moshi, Absolute Queen of the Northern, Southern, and Central Sofa Territories, rested upon her throne of soft fabric.


Everything was under control.


Until…


The door opened.


And with it…

a foreign scent entered.


A masculine scent.

A blue scent.


Moshi slowly lifted her head.


In slow motion.


🎶 (Dramatic Korean background music intensifies)


And then she saw him.


A light-colored body.

A fluffy tail.

Eyes the color of the sky after rain.


Jack Maximus.


The Stranger.



Max took one step forward.


Moshi growled.


Max lowered his gaze.


The air grew heavy.


The plants trembled (probably because of the wind, but that doesn’t matter for the drama).


From her throne, Moshi spoke with her eyes:


“Who gave you permission to breathe my air?”


Max replied in silence:


“I do not come to usurp… I only seek a corner.”


But the Queen would not hear reason.


She circled him slowly, evaluating every inch.


Growl.


Cry.


Offense.


Wounded honor.


Meanwhile, the human (Sol), caught between two destinies, held her heart with both hands.


Because she knew…


Nothing would ever be the same again.


To be continued…

🐾 Cuando Decimos Adiós a un Amigo de Cuatro Patas

El duelo que muchos no entienden, pero el corazón sí. Hace unos años perdí a mi gato Wisky. Después, a mi gata Nia. Y para mí… no fueron “so...