Thank you, God, you created me as one of a kind. I am your workmanship, and now with you, I am your angel, too.

I mentioned my Nonno Tony came to visit me last Tuesday, right?  When he came over, he petted my head and asked, “You doing okay, Pal?" - I just leaned up and let him pet me some more. So, he responded for me and said, "Yeah, you are doing okay.  You have a lot of love left in you.”  

This caused my ma to sob, and he comforted her by saying, “Look at him, he’s fine, he came down to see me, he’s got a lot of love left in him. He’s not going to die soon.” 

I thought the next day, this should be the title of my next blog post – “I have got a lot of love left in me!”.

Here is my summary of my last few weeks:

January 07 – no morning cuddle time.
January 08 – 2^nd day of no morning cuddles. Date of the last time ma picked me up and I let her cradle me over her shoulder and we hugged for a long time. I purred.
January 09 – morning cuddles; completely normal behavior.
January 10 – no morning cuddles; I did not even go in the bedroom.
January 11 -17 – morning cuddles; completely normal behavior.
January 17 – was the last time I dry heaved and coughed.  Mamma misunderstood this as a good sign. 
January 18 – 21 - morning cuddles; completely normal behavior.
January 22 – no morning cuddles, no morning greeting. Did not eat breakfast. Projectile vomited bile and foamy liquid.  Barely ate any food all day, a very small amount of soft wet food at night. Slept in ma’s bedroom but in Stivali’s cat bed.  Purred a lot.
January 23 – no morning cuddles or greeting.  Stayed upstairs from 8pm the evening before until morning. Came down for breakfast. Soft wet food only. Minimal wheezing. Stayed upstairs in Stivali’s cat bed in ma’s room all but two hours. Ma brought a litter box downstairs, just in case I went down and didn’t wanna go back upstairs.
January 24 – no morning cuddles or greeting. Came downstairs for a few minutes to eat a little soft food and retreated back upstairs. Ma carried me downstairs in the afternoon, and I never walked back upstairs again.
Her friend, Maria, came over around 6 pm. I greeted her in my normal, friendly way. Jumping up on to the sofa to get closer to her, and let her pet me. Ma introduced me as her “Prince Charming” – a name she never ever called me before.
I feel this would have been the purrfect name for me, and I will now remember being her Prince Charming for eternity.  As Maria was petting my head, she exclaimed, “Awe… Prince Charming, what a fitting name for you. Your mamma loves you so much, Prince Charming! What a beautiful cat you are!” – and I purred with happiness hearing such compliments.

January 25 – no am greeting. Met ma in kitchen for breakfast. Purred a lot on this day. Rubbed my chin on corners a lot. Sat up tall and watched outside a lot. Crouched over after minimal walking to rest in between walking to destinations. Ma brought me a bed and water for me to the sunroom so I did not have to walk far for anything I needed. Was okay mixed with restlessness.
I had a hard time getting comfortable, and kept switching positions when I would go to relax. This was happening a lot this week. Jumped up on to table to be with mamma, got comfy and began to sleep when her phone startled me and I quickly jumped down off of the table.
I was sad after that for most of the day.  Never went upstairs again. Heavy breathing, crouching a lot. Still ate cat treats, because they are tasty.  Stivali and I groomed each other - something we used to do multiple times daily until about two weeks ago - ma was so happy to witness us grooming on this day. I haven't been doing much of my own grooming at all this week.  😢
Ma found one of my diuretics I hid after pretending to take it – she was unsure which dose it was from, and I can’t recall. Ma kept telling me I was having a good day. She let me drink milk for the first time in 10 years. It was delicious. I was very happy. I even went to watch ma cook her dinner; longingly looking up at her as she worked at the counter.  She kept telling me what a great cat I am and how much she loves me. She even let me eat some of the cheese she was cutting. I gobbled it up, it was delicious. I was very happy.  No wheezing, no coughing, a lot of crouching down, taking a lot of breaks in between walks, but otherwise, as she kept telling me: I was having a good day. Mamma groomed me, but I did not purr. She told me about my life and reminded me of all the good times we shared.  She asked me to meow and purr, but I did neither. 
January 26 – remained in sunroom for most of the day.  No morning greeting. No upstairs overnight.  In the morning, walked into kitchen for breakfast, haven’t had crunchies since Sunday, January 21.  Barely ate any soft food.  I followed her while looking up at her, as she walked my bowl over to me; I opened my mouth to meow 3x but no sound came out. 
Ma went to work for the first time since Tuesday (she didn’t last long that day, and was home by 9 am). She watched from the home cameras that I was having a decent day, retreating in the sunroom.  Sitting up tall to look outside, resting on occasion in my cat bed on the floor, even jumped up and slept on the orange chair for a long while.
Stivali kept me company for the entire day, which was really nice.  I drank a lot of water. Ma came home at lunch time to stay with us for the rest of the day – she was thinking I was doing really good and having two good days in a row. She told me she was going to keep track of my good days vs bad, and told me that I was brave and strong.
Ma found one of my medicines on the floor again, I am getting good at pretending to take them. I followed her into the kitchen. I looked up at her at the counter as she purposefully made tuna for the first time in months just so I could drink the juice from the can.  She placed a bowl filled with it in front of me, and I began drinking it very fast. It was delicious and such a treat. I did not finish it, though, which alarmed mamma.  I walked away and allowed Stivali to drink up the rest.  I am a nice big brother.
I rubbed my chin on corners, ma  groomed me, and told me she loved me.  She brought down the cat carrier from our storage nook.  I stared at it and rubbed my chin on it. She asked me if I wanted to go to the doctor to have another chest-tap like I had in October. She asked if I was strong enough to do it. That we did not have to go if I did not want to. She sat on the floor next to me as I stared inside the carrier. She scooped me up to hold me and she cried. I was uncomfortable so I wiggled out of her arms and went over to the sofa to lie down.
She came over to me and began to pet me; she said I looked so peaceful. She began to pray over me and the doctor’s hands. She asked God for me to find peace and comfort. She told God to make me feel better and explained how we were going to the doctor to do that. I got up and walked over to the carrier.  She got up and got holy water and did the sign of the cross on my forehead with her thumb. She began to cry and tell me again what an amazing cat I have been for her and how much she loves me.
She said a phrase she’s been saying a lot lately: “If love alone would heal you, you would never die.” I walked into the carrier and she zipped it up. This was around 4:10-4:15. She kept talking to me, telling me it was gonna be okay. That we would be right home. Stivali ran upstairs as ma was preparing to take me to the vet. She hollered out to my sister that we would be home soon.

She placed me in the front seat of her car, and as we reversed out of the garage, I began to panic.
She opened the carrier up and put the car into park.  She asked me what was wrong, if we should just go back inside. I could not get oxygen into my lungs, I felt like I was suffocating. Mamma kept reassuring me everything would be better soon, that the doctor will help me. She rubbed my head and asked me if we should not go. Should we just pull back in the garage and go back inside our home.
She waited a long while for me to answer but I had lost my voice. I sat back down and rested my head on my paws – sideways so when I opened my eyes again, I could see her in the driver seat. She assumed this meant I was good to go. She patted my head, told me I was a good boy, and put her car into drive and began to proceed out in to the street. 

During the ten minute drive, my anxiety rose, and I sat up to look out the window. I opened my mouth and began to pant. My ma panicked as we pulled into the driveway of the animal hospital. “What’s going on? Are you okay, Buddy?” she asked me.  In the parking lot, I sat down and began to breathe my normal labored breathing which reassured my ma that I was fine. We walked around outside for a few minutes before she carried me inside. I wonder if she was thinking we should just go back home...

Minutes later, she took me inside the animal hospital so, I sat up nice and tall in the reception area to let everyone know I was strong and prepared to complete the procedure.

When the vet tech walked us back to the examining room, the woman asked ma, “He doing okay?” and she hesitated, with a lump in her throat she answered, “No. He’s not.”  This bothered me as I was just trying to prove I was fine. I just had a small panic attack.  As we walked down a long hallway, I was still sitting upright and I meowed two times in a row. Ma got so excited and happily proclaimed, “There’s your voice, Buddy, I hear you, my beautiful Prince! I am so happy to hear your meow!  Oh how I have missed that beautiful meow, you handsome boy! We are gonna be okay today – you’ll see!” She was thrilled that I spoke to her for the first time in a long while. 

She placed my carrier first on a chair and looked at me. I looked at her. She saw my sad golden eyes and asked, “Would you rather be up higher? Let’s put you up here, okay, Buddy?” and she pulled me up onto the examining table and unzipped my carrier. Normally, I would climb out and let her hold me as we wait for the doctor. Actually, I usually jump into her arms from the carrier, but I suddenly felt extremely weak and sad. As soon as she unzipped my carrier, I fell back into my crouched position and began open mouth breathing heavily.

Something I have never done before, so my ma never saw it before.  My eyes felt like they were popping out of my head and she asked the vet tech to get the doctor – she feared she made a huge mistake bringing me there as something appeared inherently wrong.

 
The doctor came in soon after. Concern flooded her face. She asked ma how long had I been breathing like this, and she told her “just now, he started to panic.” 

The doctor told her I could not get oxygen in to my lungs and we should try to drain the fluid out to help me breathe easier.  Ma rubbed my paw and I retracted it staring at her fingers. Ma kissed my forehead and told me she loved me. She looked at the doctor, and asked, “Is there a chance he would stroke out or have a heart attack during the procedure?” – the doctor with pressed lips, shrugged her shoulders, and nodded her head. Ma said, “Then I think I should just take him home.” The doctor said, “Let’s at least try to get the fluid out, he is here, and he can’t breathe.”  Ma said, “Will you give him oxygen? To help him?” “Yes, we will give him oxygen the entire time,” the doctor answered.
Ma leaned over, kissed my forehead again, and told me she would see me in a minute or two and to be brave. With that, the doctor zipped up my carrier and whisked me out of the examining room.

A few minutes later, a vet tech went to tell ma that I was having a hard time relaxing and that maybe if she was comfortable to, to come back and be with me, that it might help me calm down.

Within ten minutes or so of ma entering the operating room, I suffered a fatal heart attack and died in my mother’s arms. Maybe one day, I will be strong enough to tell you the details of what happened, and what led me to write this blog post from heaven.

For now, I will leave you with these thoughts.

Victor Hugo wrote, “To love another person is to see the face of God.”  Ma said she knows God exists when she looks at me, because she sees God through me.

Ma taught me that love is the most important thing God has given us to be grateful for. Being loving and being loved brought purpose and meaning to my life.  I needed a blessing, and found one in ma, and I was a blessing to her as well.  I was valued and appreciated.  I am grateful for the blessings in my life, and that I, too, was a blessing.

The first song mamma heard playing on the radio after I went to heaven was Phil Everly’s “The Air That I Breathe” – this was me singing to her – and her singing to me.  I did that for her to make sure she knew I was okay; that I am with Kismet and Zoe in heaven. We are playing with all of the human angels. 

I do have a lot of love left in me. I hope ma, all our friends and family, and all of you readers find comfort in knowing that the good days of my life far outweigh the horrific last 30 minutes of my life.  In the 10 years 09 months and 02 days that I lived with mamma, I had almost all good days.  How many cats can attest to that? 

I was approximately 11 years and 05 or 09 months old - I don't remember when I was actually born, this is just an estimation based on my first medical exam mamma took me to on April 30, 2007.  I am so glad I found her and she decided to keep me.

The condition my breed is predisposed to, killed me.  I had to have an enlarged heart because I was big on loving – giving and receiving it. I was a total love sponge. I was a great cat. Ma said so. 

I was her Prince Charming.

“Sometimes all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you.  All I need is the air that I breathe, yes, to love you. Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak. So sleep silent angel go to sleep.” – Phil Everly. 

April 24, 2007 – January 26, 2018

10 years 09 months 02 days with my mamma. 💚

Some of the photos mamma captured with the camera. Jesus was calling for me through sunbeams. 

Stivali kept me company all day in the sunroom. She may have known it was my last day. 

 

I was restless, so mamma came home to be with me. 

How we hung out together when she got home.

The last photo mamma took of me alive. I still wanted to be near her while she sat at the table. Just didn't jump on it like I used to to head-butt her or lick her face and meow for snuggle-time. 

Who is gonna pay for all the catnip?

This is the question mamma asks us each morning when my sister and I are longingly looking at her as she leaves for work.
We know she hates leaving us to go to work. Part of the reason she agreed to keep Stivali years ago was for me to have a playmate, as I was alone for 16 months after my brother King Kismet passed away.
Ma has to go to work so she can buy us toys, food, treats, blankets, and catnip. We never have a shortage of any of these items at our house.
I would have been a movie star or a therapy cat had life allowed. Then I would have contributed to our household needs. I would have been very good at either occupation. I am extremely friendly and loving. I have been called a “Love Sponge” by many people. I just eat up all affection and ask for attention daily. As for acting, I think I could have been a big star. I would have brought happiness and joy to many people’s lives if I was an actor or a therapy cat. I know this.
The past couple of weeks, I have been tired and have not been as loving to anyone. I am not very talkative or active. I cannot eat crunchy food or treats anymore. I have skipped breakfast for a few days now and it makes mamma sad. I am just not as hungry as I once was, and must now maintain a soft food diet.
I had a good weekend, though. I purred and cooed and hung out with Stivali and ma, and we watched television together and it was a very nice weekend.  Aunt Cheryl visited us and it was very nice to see her, too. It was a good weekend. 

Sunday was a good day. I was happy and cozy.

Monday morning, I could not go down the stairs. They wind me and exasperate my CHF symptoms – specifically, my heavy breathing.  I have a precise method of walking, all cats do. It is called “direct registering”, wherein our hind paws fall almost exactly into the place our fore paws did before.  We cats walk like this to remain quiet and reduce the sightings of tracks. Plus, we are more stable in our footing as our fore paws have already felt out the upcoming steps for our hind paws. Pretty brilliant we are. However, this causes me to have to bolt up the steps or barrel down them. This is not good for my weak heart.
Mamma brought my food and water bowl upstairs for me. She also brought downstairs a litter box, just in case I came downstairs while she was at work and I couldn’t make it back upstairs.
All day I was shifting my position to find the most comfortable way to sit and relax. I did not sleep much at all, which is not normal cat behavior. I was uncomfortable all Monday and it led to a very hard evening. My labored breathing caused me to wheez, and I now make noise with each exhalation. This stinks.  Monday, I did not eat, but did end up vomiting bile and foamy liquid which caused my ma to start crying uncontrollably.  This stinks.

Today, my labored breathing kept me in bed for most of the day. I did not go downstairs for breakfast, and mamma administered my meds in the bedroom for the second day in a row. I did eat a minimal amount of soft food, but I stayed by myself upstairs for most of the day.  This stinks.

At 4 o’clock, my Nonno Tony came to visit me, and as soon as I heard his voice I went downstairs to greet him. He gives me really strong head pets and I really like them. J 

At 5 o’clock my Zia Marcella stopped by to see me so I really was social and happy for a couple of hours. Mamma was excited as I began to purr for the first time since Sunday night.  Once everyone left, I retreated back upstairs to be left alone and to rest. ☹
All I keep thinking about is at least ma will have my little sister when I go. I realize she is a Tuxedo, and Tuxedos are said to be very clever but they show less affection compared to Maine Coons. Tuxedos are infamous for having numerous momentary dealings with cats and humans, so that is going to be very different for my ma. I was loving all of the time, until I got sick.
Since I am not feeling so well, I will share some of my mamma’s favorite photos of me when I was healthy. Before the CHF diagnosis. 

My sister and I relaxing, 2012.

Contemplating life in 2011.

Enjoying a sun puddle. Circa 2012. 

Ma entered this into a pet photo contest and was shocked we did not win. 2013.

From that same photo shoot. 

She made a dirty joke about this one - like I got caught doing something I shouldn't. 2014. 

My story isn't over yet.

Thank you, Dear Readers, for your prayers, thoughts, and hopes for my health and overall peace.  They worked. My ma had called the doctor last Monday morning, as you read in the hope hope post. She asked if she could increase my diuretic dosage and the doctor agreed; with guarded monitoring to see after a week how I react to it.

Each day is different. Some days, I don’t breathe heavy, and I am cooing and purring like my ma is used to. Other days, I do breathe heavy, I am lethargic, and want to be left alone. No purring.  This is upsetting to mamma. She said, though, that each day is a gift, and so it is. She loves on me and loves on me each day we are together.

I am a blessed cat.

Are you familiar with the beautiful song, “Never Been a Moment” by Micah Tyler? If you do not know it, I encourage you to listen to it – it is such a beautiful song. My mamma changes the lyrics a little bit and sings it to me, as if the song was written about me. She is so funny!

I think, though, if I had a singing voice that wasn’t equipped with just chirps and trills I would sing it to her. Of course, changing her kitty lyrics to human ones. She is a good human. Here is her version of the song she sings to me:

♬"You were lost, but somehow you were found.
There's been some pain, been some regret, been some moments I'll never forget.
But when I look back from where I'm standing now, I know -

There's never been a moment I was not held inside your arms.
And there's never been a day when you were not who you say you are.
Yours forever, it don't matter what I'm walking through, ‘cause no matter where I'm going, there's never been a moment that I was not loved by you.

Loved by you.
Loved by you.

You've been my rock, you've been my peace, always showing your good heart to me.
My days are marked by grace I don't deserve, no, you've been the kitty who is always ready to play. You've been the light that has led my way. No matter where I am, there you are!

There's never been a moment I was not held inside your arms.
And there's never been a day when you were not who you say you are.
Yours forever, it don't matter what I'm walking through, ‘cause no matter where I'm going, there's never been a moment that I was not loved by you.

Loved by you.
Loved by you.

So where could you go that you could wander from my sight?  Where would I run and never leave behind your all consuming, heart pursuing, grace extending, never ending love. Stray Cat’s love! 

There's never been a moment I was not held inside your arms. And there's never been a day when you were not who you say you are. Yours forever, it don't matter what I'm walking through, ‘cause no matter where I'm going, there's never been a moment that I was not loved by you.

Loved by you.
Loved by you."🎶

It is true. She is mine forever. I am hers forever, and it doesn’t matter where I am or where she is – there was never a moment I was not loved by her – nor a moment where she was not loved by me.  This is true. 

Hug tight those you love, Dear Readers! 

Hope. Hope.

My mamma refers to herself as “forever hopeful”.  

Hope is the happy anticipation that something good is going to happen. Expecting something good to happen. Hope hope hope.  

The archaic definition of hope is a feeling of trust. Mamma trusts God. She says God is a God of Hope.  Hope hope hope. 

Photo taken yesterday which I think came out pretty neat.

I did not do so well yesterday. Sunday morning was the first morning I did not greet her with kisses and paw pats. A morning ritual that began many many years ago – where I wake her before her alarm goes off just so I can get some cuddles in.  My breathing was labored.  Very heavy.  It made my ma  nervous. When she went to pick me up for a hug, it hurt so I yelped – scaring ma even more-so. I usually like being held, I like licking her face, actually, when she holds me. Years ago, she used to get impatient with all my obsessive licking, but I think now she is getting upset that I don’t feel like giving her those once numerous cat kisses.

Not only did I not wake her yesterday or today with cat love, but I also failed to come up to the bedroom two nights in a row. She woke this morning in a feared frenzy.  When she found me, she noticed right away that my breathing did not improve overnight, despite my many medications.

Her fear only worsened when I refused breakfast today. My mamma called the doctor this morning, and they are allowing me to take an extra dosage of one of my two diuretics, but only for a couple of days to see if my breathing gets better – otherwise, I will have to go back to the doctor’s for at least an x-ray to grasp what is really going on inside me. I know the doctor said more than that, as she was crying pretty hard, but she won’t tell me, she wants me to be free of pain, peaceful and happy. She left for work late, crying. Hated leaving me, it was very obvious.

This afternoon, I made a concerted effort to prove my happiness upon her return home from work. I barreled down the steps to greet her – let her scoop me up into her arms – and even though I did not feel like kissing her I did let her hold me for a long time and I purred.

Today after work, we hugged.

She has been oddly taking photos of me, more than usual, if that is possible. She also is recording me a lot. She adores my meow – since I am a chirper and I trill as I don’t have the common cat-meow, but one reserved for my distinct and superior breed. J I know she is trying to get it on video, but I have not been my talkative self these days. 

I know my mamma is trusting God, she is expecting this rough situation to change, expecting it to get better. She is trusting God, hoping for the best, wanting joy and peace for me despite my chronic condition which cannot be cured. It is pretty obvious to anyone watching me breathe that the weakness of my heart has led to a buildup of fluid in my lungs and surrounding tissues more than I think I can handle. She knows this. I know this. She is too sad to admit this to be true. Because she is hopeful.

Hope hope.

I do love her very much, she has given me a warm home to live in. She took me in, off of the cold streets of Searsport, Maine. She feeds me well, and grooms me often; she has taken care of me. It is not as though I don’t love her just because I don’t feel like cuddling or giving affection any more.  I will forever be her Purr-ball, Sweet Puffball, Boohbahla, Boohbah, Buddy, Bubbie and all the other sweet names she affectionately calls me. I think I am more sick than we all realized. Growing old is hard.

Tonight, I am thanking God for the power of hope.

Happy 2018

There was a lot of noise outside and I decided to jump on a piece of furniture to investigate.  This is more proof that I am not ill.  You see, I insist I cannot be that sick if I can jump up still, free of complaint or pain. I take my medicines three times a day, and now weigh 15 pounds.  Most days, I sleep a lot (unless there is noise interrupting my nap!). Some days, I wheeze and have difficulty breathing. Other days, I feel like playing and jumping.  CHF is strange and scary. 

Pretty sure the noisy neighbors don't know the importance of a cat nap.

Happy New Year, Readers. May 2018 be filled with joy, laughter, peace, and health.  If you pray, please keep me and my health in your prayers. Thank you!