Our longtime site mascot, Nezumi, has passed from the mortal realm.
In other stories about her, I’ve told how she found us as a tiny injured kitten who was driven away by her mother. I’ve told how she grew into a fine figure of a queen cat, nurtured by the loyal Orion. I’ve also told of how we lost Orion and how she carried on with us. She even wrote a few blog entries on this site. She was a wonderful girl, a staunch family member, often hilarious, and always lovable. Lately, her health has been failing and we’ve finally lost our final battle.
It started a few months ago when she started becoming even pickier than usual and we thought there was a problem with her mouth. She started drooling and rubbing her mouth on things, so it made sense. We also wondered if she had a hairball that wouldn’t come up.
The vet found a mass near her intestines, but since it wasn’t blocking anything we thought she might be okay. Perhaps the mass would be benign, perhaps we could encourage her to eat, perhaps we could control the swelling with steroids and find out it was just IBD. We did blood work, got good news on her organ function.
We got a bit of a reprieve – for a time she seemed to be getting better. Then she took a turn for the worse. Back to the vet. The news was bad. So we changed our strategy and just focused on keeping her comfortable. A couple weeks passed. Her normal meow changed to a little squawk, she lost her coordination, but she still loved attention and would ask to be picked up so she could be near us. I still saw a soul behind her eyes. Normally so gentle, she covered my arms with inadvertent scratches and I find now that I want to rub ink into them so I can wear them forever. Her sweet face and personality created instant love from the first moment I saw her as a tiny waiflike kitten.
That was why it was so hard to have to schedule her end – however, we both agreed that she should go when she still had some dignity left, instead of us selfishly trying to eke the last drops of life out until she passed away in pain and terror. I also scheduled an appointment with a crematorium for shortly after her last vet visit.
I had to take a Benadryl last night so I could sleep, and still sat up petting her. My tears were a river that has still not run dry. In the morning I gave her some brushing, which she loves, and offered her broth for breakfast – which she wouldn’t touch. She kept patting me and looking into my eyes. When it was time we took her to our vet. The assistant laid her on a blue and white Southwestern blanket to make her comfortable. The vet gave her one more exam to make sure nothing had improved, and then we said goodbye. Shortly after, Nezumi was gone. I felt a cool wind blow through me, around that time, though for the life of me I can’t remember exactly when.
The people at Tucson Pet Cemetery were very kind. The office lady was quiet yet compassionate, neither adding nor detracting from our grief. The office cat, a fat, bob-tailed Cymric cat, offered cuddles, headbonks, and purring. She went over the options with us, not trying to upsell but just responding to our questions. We placed Nezumi on a sort of table under a window, in a shaded room with comfortable chairs so we could say our final farewells.
I find that as sad as this all was, I couldn’t ask for a better end myself. I hope that when the time for my end comes, I can meet it in peace, with my family around me. We’ll make a place in the yard for her ashes and set up a cat statue in her memory. I know that she’s beyond all pain now, and I hope she’s met up with Orion so he can show her the ropes of being a spirit being.
For now, we’ll comfort Shinji as he’s an only cat, yet again. He’s seen a lot of people die and so we want to be gentle with him.
when I feel you’re gone,
my heart pours out misogi
waterfall of tears.