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 – 2nd 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. |
