The Hoomin Talks

Alright folks, strictly me, aka TSB here.
I appreciate all the well wishes, sympathy, and the party in Nimbus' honor. It's all been heartwarming. But as you all know, the pain is deep and the gaping hole in my heart is huge. I don't show it a lot, but trust me, my soul has cried a Mississippi River already, never mind the tears I wept, the wailings... all the emotions right after I came home and found him laying in his own pee. I readily admit I asked God why, not my baby boy good cat, not after the fight he'd already fought. But let's be real: to make an animal endure any more misery would only be torture for him AND me. I still have my moments when I question myself and whether I did everything I could to give him every last chance. I am fortunate that I have two very good twitter friends on speed dial on my phone at a moment's notice, one who's gone through a lot of the same with her babies and the other who seems to be a walking talking encyclopedia LOL. Thank God for both of them, for texting me every last idea out there, for listening to my wailing cries, for being my voice when I couldn't be. Shadow and Chloe, thank you. I know I've thanked you a thousand times probably but I can't thank you enough.
Some of these pictures you've seen before, some you've not. These aren't for the faint of heart, some of these I wasn't planning on ever sharing. But with the bond everyone else here had with my baby boy, it's only right. These were all taken off of my camera phone as the last thing I wanted to do in his final days was stress him out with the extra flashes of light. God only knows what he felt like as it was with normal light and noise. I wasn't about to add to it. Plus it is a new phone with a much better camera - learning curve!

This picture was taken right after his first trip to the vet at the beginning of the month. You can see here he still has his fighting spirit in him, he just feels and looks disheveled. He would purr for me a few times after this but sadly, not enough for me to enjoy.

This was taken just a couple days before he died. He was starting to show signs he could pull it off but he was still miserable. His breathing had improved - he wasn't struggling as much - but his appetite sucked to put it mildly. He did show promise; there were times he showed he WANTED to eat, it was just like he didn't have the room!

This is the last pic of the boys together. You can really see how big they both were, and if Nimbus was healthy, he would've made Curzon look small. This is the very place I found him that fateful St. Patrick's Day after work, in almost the same spot, just to his right a couple inches. My poor baby. I think at this point Curzon was starting to realize his partner-in-crime's time was short cause he was hanging with the boy a bit more.

This was the last pic of him taken at the vet before his fateful trip. So handsome, but so sick and, frankly p*d off, looking back in hindsight, that I wasn't letting him go already. I just wasn't ready to call the war over yet. I still thought he stood a chance. But in just a little more than 48 hours, he'd be gone.

The last pic at home - just after I'd made the determination that it was time. The can in the foreground is a fresh can of tuna, the one in the background is a fresh can of wet food. He showed no interest in either of them, nor even spaghetti sauce (and anyone that has known Nimbus a while knows about his love of all things pasta MOL, especially spaghetti sauce - which is probably the reason he was diabetic *sigh*). He didn't even look like he was *here* - like his soul wasn't even in his body, like he'd already left. That being said, I couldn't let this be the final picture of my baby. When we took him to the vet, she first gave him a tranquilizer, which is supposed to send the cat off on a journey of a sorts, but it ended up bringing him back a bit. He got a spark back in his eyes, and for a little while, had enough of himself in him to say his goodbyes. Trust me, he knew he was going. The vet gave him his first shot, but it wasn't enough. She thinks his circulation was compromised, which makes me wonder of he had something even more serious than his HCM going on - but even IF he did, he was so sick he was in no shape to fight anything else on top of it.

The last picture of my baby boy, between shots. Trust me, he was still here at this point. The vet left after giving him the second shot, and I waited a few more minutes for him to go, but when it was obvious he wasn't going, I scooped up his lifeless but still alive body and sat down in a chair to the left of the picture and held him. Oddly enough there wasn't a lot of tears. Don't get me wrong, there were a few. But it was like me and the boy had made peace (albeit temporarily for me). His heart beated two more times and it was over - finally. My baby was gone, my heart was missing a big chunk, and there were only goodbyes to be said from my end. I told him I loved him, and how proud I was of him, and thanked him for being such a strong, brave, entertaining, and patient kitten and cat. I told him to find Mr. Cat's Angel Astro and to beware of the big white cat (Angel Snowflake) and the little tabby (Angel Obnoxio) as both of them were bad***es in life and can only imagine what their royal naughtinesses are up to now LOL. I told him to find the mice and make up for lost time, since he never got the chance to touch one in life. I said goodbye one last time, and carried him to the tech, who helped me lay him back onto the table and got the vet, and the three of us shared a couple last memories before I left. This was the same vet that saved his life just about 2 and a half years ago, seeing his URI and even more importantly, the diabetes. I thanked her for saving his life then and for being there for me this time. I wish that Nimbus' vet had the chance to be there and do it herself, but yet I'm glad she wasn't. We went through so much together for this cat, she had more of an attachment to Boo.

A week later to the day and nearly the hour, I got the call from the vet that his ashes had returned and would be ready for me whenever I could get them. Of course I couldn't leave him there any longer, so made the walk up there (albeit a very cold walk, and while I felt it - it WAS only 37 outside - I guess I was still so numb that I didn't feel it nearly as much as I should have. The only thing I really felt by the end of the walk was my feet hurting like hell but only because I had new shoes on (and I'm STILL trying to break them in ughhhh). So my baby boy is home once again, and trust me, he's still here, I know. We all have had our own little experiences, even the twins. So while it's reassuring to know that Boo's still watching over us, it doesn't ease the pain of not having that 19lb grey fluffball here with me, available to snatch up at any time. But, as they say up here, it is what it is. I'm glad it's done, not that I wouldn't give up almost anything to have my baby back, but I'd rather him be gone than stuck here miserable, sick, struggling to breathe, and having to be hand-fed and barely eating. In my mind he'll always be my baby boy, just a little scrawny grey mouse that turned into a 19lb gigantic fluffball of pure goodness and sweetness, who had a way with any lady he got to meet, no matter the age, and turned even the hardened dog guys into his pals. Yep, kinda hard to say no when you wake up with a purring cat on your chest. That was Nimbus though!

See ya, little motor scooter. Enjoy life at the RB and don't forget to keep all dem naughty cats in line!
GOOD KITTIES FOREVER!!!!