Cat Quest For Healing: How A Game Developer's Kindness Helped Me Cope With Losing My Best Friend

Games writer Billy Givens speaks about how a kindness from the developer of Cat Quest helped him heal from the loss of his beloved cat Indie.

By: Billy Givens, Contributor

Even for the most blessed of cat lovers, it's rare to find a cat who transcends everything you've been taught about animal behavior, emotional capacity, and adaptability. These unique "soul cats" are almost mystical in their ability to understand you and provide support, and they leave paw prints on your heart that no creature could ever replace.

Sadly, these little soulmates can only stay with us for a short while, and their loss can break us in ways we never thought possible. But sometimes, the path to healing can come from the most unexpected places. In my case, the kindness and empathy of a game developer helped me to begin processing the grief of losing the best friend I've ever had.

18 years wasn't long enough.

As an autistic person with relatively low support needs, I can mask through a lot of what life throws at me. But there's still a lot of anxiety and frustration that is only alleviated by routines and planning. During the worst times, when caring for myself feels impossible, a good support system is vital. And due to my regulation needs, that support system is at its best when it includes an animal that provides a calming presence without any words being spoken.

That's where Indie came in. Indie took care of me just as much as I took care of him.

"Indie took care of me just as much as I took care of him."

For 18 years, Indie ate at the same time I ate. He went to bed at the same time I went to bed. There was no room I could enter without him following. He was constantly nuzzled up on my left leg until I moved — be it minutes or hours — watching me play games and looking up lovingly with his big eyes as I'd talk to him about whatever I was doing. He'd follow my wife out of the bedroom when she'd get up for breakfast, then return to wait at the door for me to wake up, casting his big shadow on the other side — something I looked forward to seeing every morning.

Indie's undeniable insight and empathy were shocking to anyone who saw his interactions with me. Through unyielding love and comforting routines, he provided calmness and consistency in a world that often feels like chaos. When everything else felt like it was out of place, and my world was in disarray, I could count on him to ground me. And when no human could fix me with words, Indie somehow recharged my battery with his mere presence. There are times in my life when I'm not certain I would've survived without him guiding me back to peace.

"I'm not certain I would've survived without him guiding me back to peace."

Sadly, I didn't get to tell Indie all the ways that he saved me. He went into sudden heart failure one night in the spring of 2024.

An unexpected final memory

The first few months after Indie passed were filled with unbelievable grief and dysregulation. The silence in the house was deafening. I barely ate. I barely slept. I barely spoke. I no longer stopped at the steps in the morning. I struggled to sit on the couch. I buried myself in work and largely ignored the outside world. My battery was gone. I was losing my charge more and more every day, and my lights were growing dim.  

But then, my first major step toward healing came from perhaps the most unexpected place.

About two months after Indie passed, I received a code from developer The Gentle Bros for Cat Quest III, the aptly-named third game in a charming action role-playing franchise starring — you guessed it — cats. I'd frequently played the games with my best bud by my side, so it was heartbreaking to dive in without him there. But I had to play it for work, so I pushed through. Luckily, it served as an uplifting experience, offering a brief respite from the overwhelming weight in my chest.

"Through unyielding love and comforting routines, he provided calmness and consistency in a world that often feels like chaos."

One afternoon, after struggling for an hour or two searching for a final well-hidden secret for a guide I was writing, I took to the devs' official Discord server to seek some help. A quick conversation with The Gentle Bros co-founder and game designer, Desmond Wong, left me with the info I needed for my guide (and the game's coveted platinum trophy). And with the game's credits rolling, and my work complete, that familiar sadness crept back to the forefront of my mind.

Feeling emotional and reflective, I took the opportunity to tell Desmond how Indie had spent all that time next to me while I played games, and then thanked him and the team for making experiences that meant a lot to me. When he found out about Indie's passing, he immediately asked me to send him some pictures so that the team could draw me something. Of course, I obliged.

I opened Discord a few days later to find that the art team had drawn a detailed and adorable picture of me and my best pal on the couch in the style of Cat Quest. They ensured Indie was in his rightful place by my leg with a big 'ol smile on his face as he watched me play a game. It was more than I ever expected, and my chest grew tight.

In the minutes that followed, I stared at the drawing and wept, soon realizing I was crying happy tears for the first time since Indie had passed. The Gentle Bros had provided me with one final memory with my best friend, and they had captured it perfectly.

"Sometimes, the path to healing can come from the most unexpected places. In my case, the kindness and empathy of a game developer helped me to begin processing the grief of losing the best friend I've ever had."

I took this opportunity to finally say my goodbye to Indie that was cut short the night I lost him. I thanked him. I told him I loved him. And then I thanked him again. And again.

The longer I looked at the drawing and talked to Indie, all those complicated thoughts and feelings that had swirled in my head for months became quieter. The picture had framed everything in a way my brain just couldn't process on its own. It reminded me that Indie was so much bigger than his physical presence. He was an endless force of love, peace, and support. It was a privilege to have known him, and now I had the privilege to carry his light with me for the remainder of my life. 

That day, as I wiped away the tears, I decided to pick myself up. I applied the drawing as my background on every device I owned. I started to smile when I talked about Indie again. I didn't avoid pictures of him anymore. I got excited when I'd find a stray white hair somewhere in my house or car. I decided to be happy that he lived his entire life safe, comfortable, and loved beyond words. What an honor it was to provide that to him.

While the picture The Gentle Bros sent me may be a cute drawing to anyone else, it served as an immensely important moment of reflection that helped me process months of pain, guilt, and anger. My heart was no longer empty from the loss I had sustained, but was beginning to refill itself with the joy of so many memories. 

A Cat Quest for Healing

In the weeks after I received the drawing from The Gentle Bros, my wife convinced me to visit a local animal shelter, which we soon discovered had only a single cat — an orange tabby kitten who had recently undergone a front leg amputation and desperately needed love and healing. I couldn't leave without her.

From the moment we got home, our new kitten, Juno, shared many of Indie's mannerisms and seemed to fall naturally into his old routines. She even snuggled next to my left leg exactly how he always did, leaning her head back with that same big-eyed look.

Juno- " I couldn't leave without her."

I'm not normally a spiritual person, but it seemed like Indie was visiting me through Juno during those first few months, as though their souls had intertwined somewhere in the ether. It felt like he was helping me one last time, gently easing me into something new. 

But ever so slowly, Juno's own vibrant personality began to blossom. Before I knew it, we had established entirely new routines. She quickly found her own ways of recharging my battery, and she often reminds me to take a break and quiet my overactive mind for a few minutes by finding her way onto my chest when I'm trying to type. 

But some things never change. When my wife gets up to start work in the loft each morning, Juno follows her out to spend a cozy morning in the window beside her desk. When she hears me get out of bed, she comes and casts a familiar shadow on the other side of the door, waiting for me to sing her special morning song while I give her belly rubs. 

Every once in a while, I notice the shadow looks shaped like an old friend, so I smile and take just a moment to say hello to Indie, too, before I open the door.

Billy Givens is a freelance journalist who has worked in the tech and entertainment beats for nearly two decades. You can find his work at IGN, GameSpot, Kotaku, USA Today, Tom's Guide, The Guardian, Techradar, and beyond. More importantly, you can find his three-legged cat, Juno, sprawled out on his chest.

˖ ꗃ ﾍ(^･･^=)~

Did you notice our site doesn't have a ton of ads blocking the content? That's by design, we work off of the support of our community to bring you independent journalism that supports cats, their people and game developers.

If you're interested in helping out our mission, you can donate via kofi, or you can become a sustaining member via Patreon. We also always appreciate support via our social platforms. Every like, comment, share supports what we do. It means everything to us.