Almost two months ago i decided to start posting weekly positives on feedsites that allowed more reasonable character limits, especially on webleg. And wow, what an unfortunate time in my life to do so! #GarbageDay
This week (on friday) i had to make the difficult decision of letting my cat Szprocik leave, forever. It was cancer, specifically lymphoma. And when his life story went through my head as i tried to remember all the good times he had while living with me and my partner - i realized his earliest symptoms showed up more than a year earlier, but were not alarming enough to try and diagnose him. But eventually his body was unable to fight it anymore.
It was a beast full of personality. Before i had him, i shook my head in disbelief whenever i heard that cats destroy toilet paper rolls, or throw stuff off tabletops, and so on. He did all that and more. While he was just a few months old kitty (we adopted him when he was only three months old) and still full of parasites, he learned how to open door handles. We had to keep him separated from Frytka (a female 10 years old cat) to avoid getting her infested, so at first i blocked the door from the other side and eventually replaced the normal L-shaped handle with a door knob that he couldn’t open.
A bit more than a year later we moved to our own apartment on the other side of the country and got cats to join us there. His living space grew, and his thirst for destruction had so many opportunities to thrive. He kept making a mess in the kitchen and bathroom. Unfortunately the kitchen had no door (such was the choice of the place’s previous owners), so he kept stealing dish sponges, opening cabinets (until i installed baby-proof locks) and even making his way into bread box to steal slices of bread to play with.
And as much as he was a pain in the ass, kept eating plastic (including parts of isolation in bathroom’s door frame), scratching on doors and forcing Frytka to play with him when she wasn’t in the mood for it… We kept telling him how much we love him and that he’s our beautiful dumb little gremlin. Likewise, he loved to cuddle, and his fave spot was always the left shoulder - several shirts have tiny holes in that area, left from him climbing and kneading in there. He liked biting my ears, so i bit him back to show him who’s in charge here. He had a fave toy - the oldest toy mouse we had (older than Frytka even) and no other toy got the same reaction from him. He was throwing it and meowing playfully at night when nobody was watching him. We never witnessed that playtime, but we knew when we heard that, he had a distinct meow reserved for that mouse only.
In the last week of his life the greatest joy was hearing him play with it. At that time we did not know it was the last time he did it. After that, i missed the last few days of him acting somewhat vigorously because i had to travel for work. When i got back, it was only getting worse. He stopped jumping long distance. He stopped eating. I noticed he stayed awake at all times, probably unable to sleep. In his second to last day he couldn’t cuddle for more than a minute before getting uncomfortable with growths in his chest. Spent most of his time laying down on the floor.
I knew that if i didn’t want him to hurt, i had to let him go. It’s never easy. The only other time i had to make a decision like that, it was Buła who lived for around 19 years, and was on meds for the last three of them. Four years old kitty and a month from cancer diagnosis was too soon for me. I was not ready for it. But throughout his life i kept asserting my position, showing him i’m in charge. I praised him, i scolded him, i fed him. Let him under my hoodie and kept him in there like a baby. It’d be disappointing if in a time like this, i could not bring myself to prevent him from suffering. I wanted him to enjoy his last days in this world, just like he enjoyed the rest of his life.
In the last day we let him into the living room that’s been off limits for both cats because of the furniture. In his first few months after we moved, he broke in once - opened the door and let himself inside - so there are still scratch marks on the sofa from that incident. But this time he was allowed to stay in. Jump on the table without being scolded. Lie down on the windowsill. And while he was resting in there i had to call the vet to ask if we can bring him in for the last time.
We were doing all we could, but there’s a limit to everything. No medication can help a body that does not let it work. And he was kind of a sickly boy since the very start, which never stopped him from being an unforgettable menace. He lived for only four years, but he made the most of this time. And i think he loved us as much as we loved him. I know that we as humans tend to see characteristics in objects or animals that aren’t there. Interpreting kitty face as smiling, even when it’s just their neutral expression. In Szprot’s case, i keep believing his face showed no regret. He did what he wanted - make a mess, cuddle everyone, eat like a hungry little beast and pick his own toys.
I gotta remember him as my beautiful silly beast that had no regrets. With a life too short, but well lived, as if he always knew he’d never have to grow up.
