I have been writing this article in my head for too many times. Until I realized I need to get it out, say my last words of goodbye, because nothing else can continue until I do so.
Jules, my cat, who was so much more then just a pet, he was my friend, my joy and the smile of my life for the past 15 months.
Crumb (another stray cat who found home and shelter here) brought him to our home 15 months ago. He was all skinny, ill and scared when we first saw him in our garage. He wasn’t sure if we can be trusted, but, still he felt he could stay. I fed him and gained his trust over a couple of days before I was able to take him to the vet. And we’ve been visiting veterinarian for months later on because he had all kinds of diseases. Including the tumor he had in his ear. In time, he got better. Treatments were successful, he got better and became a strong healthy, happy cat. Full member of the family. Ever since, his gentle look was often the first thing I used to see when I opened my eyes in the morning – as he was patiently waiting, for God know how long, for me to wake up. And through the day he was always around me. He followed me around making sure he won’t miss a chance to hop in to my lap or just lay on me when I was watching a TV. He’d fall asleep right there on my belly, or legs, keeping me warm and still. Had had his ways of calming me down when I was upset and making me feel better when I was’t well. As he lied on me he’d purr constantly. He’d give me a massage with his little feet once in a while. Jules was on the heading image of my last blog post. I have quite a few cats but no cat was ever devoted to me like he was. We were one happy family. He was always waiting at the doors, impatiently, when Darijan was coming back from work. Insisted that he needs to be petted first.
Then, a month ago, we noticed he started to bread heavily. Sometimes he struggled to catch his breathe. Took him to the vet again. Diagnosis: heavy pneumonia. And AIDS.
What a shock.
However, vet assured us he can still live a normal life, but we need to keep him inside the house, give him quality food and get rid of pneumonia. So, she prescribed antibiotics. After a few days he got better again.
Last Saturday, we took him to the vet again to check him out and give us something to strengthen his immunity. In the car, as were were driving, his breath became very heavy again. He was fighting for the air. And it got worse and worse every minute, until, at some point we realized – we were losing him. As soon as we arrived I ran into the vets lab, they put him on 100% oxygen and gave him something to “broaden” his lungs. But, to no avail. By that time Jules was in agony, desperately trying to catch some air. But his longs were failing him. Vet said he was afraid that there’s nothing we can do for him. He suggested to wait for 40 minutes and if he doesn’t get better, he said, he’ll have to put him asleep. Jules was in pain and suffering. Minutes were passing and he wasn’t getting any better. Fighting for the air. Suffocating. Vet called someone more experienced and we heard him saying that our cat was “in arrest”. No help from the other side. Every passing minute was a prolongation of his agony. We could not stand watching him suffer any longer. It had to stop. We went to see him and say our goodbyes for the last time. Vet asked us to leave the lab before he gave him injection. In few minutes, it was all over. Jules was gone.
He was really like no other cat. Why did you have to go Jules, I don’t know. I tried to help you make the best of your short, cat’s life. I hope I helped as much as I could. I know you are in some cats paradise watching over us right now. Your sparkle of life did not disappear. I know that. It just changed the dimension. And we will never forget you. You will always remain a member of the family for as long as this family exists. And I had to tell you this. I had to tell you that I love you, once again, in the best way I know, with my thoughts and my words. For the rest of us, we will have to keep on struggling in this dimensions and, ultimately, one day, our sparkles of life will leave our bodies too. Maybe, I’m almost sure of it, we’ll meet again.
Over and out.