Improbable Island Message of the Day (MoTD)
Official Cat changeAdmin CavemanJoe – 2024-06-19 19:49:38 [Permalink]
Some sad news; we lost Carl, one of our Improbable Island Official Cats.
Carl jumped onto my belly while I was out in the hammock one day back in, ooh, 2016 I think. I was just chilling there and from out of nowhere there was a flash of black fur and sudden pressure on my viscera, and I went "Oh, hello," and stroked him and wondered, even then, why I didn't jump in surprise. I think I passed some kind of test that day. He chilled with me for a bit until Emily came back from work and said "Who's that?" and I went "Dunno."
His sister Nola (Improbable Island's other Official Cat) turned up shortly after, and at the time they looked so similar that I thought they were the same cat but with radically different personalities from day to day. Nola grew round and soft while Carl maintained his pointy sleekness. They got to know us over the summer, and then when the weather turned bitterly cold we took them in, adding them to Harley, Stewart and Leo for a total of five cats and a baby on the way. Pretty full house.
Carl was a very chill beast in general. He enjoyed riding around on my shoulders like a scarf. He'd often wait for me at the head of the stairs so he could nuzzle me at eye-level; while he did this, he'd bow so I could skritch the top of his head. One day I bowed back, mimicking him, and he reached out and patted my head! The cat wasn't bowing his head down to show me he wanted pats, he was suggesting that I lower my head so he could reach to reciprocate. It took me bloody ages to realise that. From his point of view, this big daft pink thing had FINALLY gotten the point after months of him clearly and patiently demonstrating.
The vet said months ago that he had lymphoma, and he'd have a few days at most, and we could try giving him steroids. We did, and we got some unexpected happy months with him, during which time we spoiled him rotten and croissants became his favourite food and milk his favourite drink. He was active and affectionate and had a massive appetite. He stayed alive to eat my dinner and hunt the chipmunks in the yard.
When the time came, it came suddenly, too suddenly for Lap of Love to help, so we took him to the 24/7/365 emergency vet to see the kind lady with the good drugs. His pupils got very wide and his pain faded. I buried him between the trees, more or less where he jumped up into the hammock in which we met. There weren't as many roots as I'd expected and the ground was hard packed clay and coal, so his grave might well improve the situation there.
I'd already had the privilege of mourning him while he was still alive, before the steroids gave him a blessed couple of months of feeling like a brand new cat. I wish that he could have had the same death as Leo, with the very quiet woman with the heart-shaped face who knocked on the door with her bag of peace - or Stewart, who was fine one moment and gone the next with just enough time to take him outside and settle him on my lap. But he knew at the end he was loved, and gave me the slow-blink quiet purrs until he'd gone off to who-knows-where.
I'll have some more mobile improvements and other awesome things for you all soon. For now this is just me Telling The Bees. You are my bees. I hope you're having a lovely day, bees. Also if you're looking at your animal and going "Hmm, it's probably gonna be time to call the in-home euthanasia people within the next few days," I know it's horrible and weird to set up an Appointment With Death and then rattle around the house watching the clock, but these are the times we live in. Schedule it days in advance, everyone got pets in lockdown and these guys are SWAMPED and won't be able to come on short notice like they did in the before-time.
Nola is now our full-time Official Cat. Long may she (and her extra toes) reign!
~CMJ
