I had this all written out but I just don't feel it like I felt it when I wrote it so I'm going to rewrite it. No pictures... the pain only increases when I see his final pictures, and I know some of you were so attached to him the same is true for you. So let's keep those pictures for another time - the final picture is on this blog somewhere I'm sure.
The end was coming, and I had a bad feeling. Nimbus had been having a hard time with infections, and the end of 2010 was no exception. At least that's all I THOUGHT it was. Yes he was having a little difficulty breathing early on that winter, but the vet and I talked on the phone and thought it was just because of a stubborn infection. So we switched his antibiotics up and gave it another try. He was stable through most of February last year, but at the end it started looking bad, so I had set up an appointment for the first week of March. Of course, in total Nimbus fashion, he couldn't wait. I rushed him off to the vet just a couple days into March with help from a dear friend of mine. I'd gotten the call while I was at work that he was really struggling to breathe, unable to even lay down from Mr. Cat, who'd just swung by home while he was out driving for work. So I rushed home as soon as I could and got the boy to the vet. She rushed him in, took one listen to his lungs and took him from me. I knew then it was serious. I spent what felt like an eternity in the waiting room, but it was probably only a couple hours. Finally they told me what was wrong, and that they'd have him on oxygen until the vet could get the chance to try to drain some of the fluid out. I went back and held his head and held the oxygen on him for a little while and told him I loved him before I left for a couple hours, which was the hardest thing I've ever done.
So my friend brought me home and tried to tell me to rest a little... well that didn't happen. I sat at the computer screen so out of it I don't remember one bit of anything except bawling my rear out holding Curzon who was bawling just as hard. I think between the two of us we cried through a whole box of kleenex's. Towards the end of the day I was picked back up to go get my baby boy and bring him home, pee and all (he'd peed on me twice on the way there and at least once on the way back - gee thanks lol). I tried to make him as comfortable as I could and tried to get him to eat, which was difficult. I made the decision at that point that the diabetes was going out the window. I wasn't putting him through the poking and prodding and shots, because with as little as he was eating, that wasn't even a concern at the moment. I had to get him TO eat first, and that just wasn't happening much. The torture was in all the pills he had to take, for his heart (which hadn't been an issue but looking back I should've just treated anyways), the infection, and the diuretic for the fluid that remained in his lungs. He put up with every last bit of it up until the last day or two, when he started giving me a fuss, but I couldn't blame him considering how many pills he had to take.
Just a wee note here... I want to thank @shadowwhiskee's hoomin Val so much for tearing apart the internet trying to find anything that would help the boy. And @chloetoby's hoomin Lori for being my twitter voice when I couldn't be and dealing with me this time last year... I think you two took it as hard as I did... Especially Val... I heard you screaming through that text!
So I came home from work that day a year ago tomorrow. Mr. Cat had stopped home to check on the boy as he did when he could while working, and had left him some water and wet food in the bathroom where he was laying. I got home to see none of it touched and my baby boy laying there so out of it, to the point he looked like the life had already left him. It was like there was no soul left behind his handsome eyes. So I went to pick him up and hold him to try to make him feel better... and that's when I discovered the wet spot under him. That's when I knew.
See that was one of the most special things about him - he was Mr. Dignified. He knew he was the Prince and OMC don't ruffle his feathers the wrong way or you're gonna get a stare like you've never gotten before especially from a cat and then he's gonna spend the next 10 minutes getting that fur just right. He's the one that insisted on the immaculate litter box, and made sure it didn't stink if that meant hovering right behind one of the twins to nearly push them out of the box just so he could bury what they left behind! So when I found him like that... I knew.
Lori got to hear it all... bless her heart she let me let it all out. My heart instantly broke in half. But I knew it was time. I couldn't make him go through any more. If he couldn't even go the 12 feet to the cat box I knew. I refuse to put my animals through that, as much as I love them. To me if you love them, you've got to set them free when it's time. And for him, it was time.
Nimbus, you were, are and will forever be my baby boy, and I love you just as much today as I did a year ago and 9 1/2 years ago when you popped into this world. Time will never change that and I hope that you've found yourself at home with all our other cats that went before you. Please be nice to my hamsters though, I loved them almost as much when I was a young girl. I know it's not goodbye... but it feels like it. I know you're still around but we miss you, your sonic loud purrs, and the energy that you brought to us all, even when you slept. This song is for you, my Prince. Forever and always, the light of my life.
Your mum, nurse, hoomin secretary/slave LOL