A year ago

Here's an Oomi story.

I was clearing out a huge collection of toys from my desk (the accumulation of several years of gifts). Most were little fast food extras, that sort of thing. I had about 40 of them and was preparing for a garage sale and trying to decide if I wanted to keep any. As usual, Oomi appointed himself my helper. I was sitting on the floor sorting the toys and putting the garage sale items in a box. Oomi could never resist toys. He looked at the box as if to say “cool, toys!” and casually started digging around in the box with his paw, looking through the toys, picking up some, pushing others out of the way. One by one, he starts digging toys out of the box and starts playing with them; three in particular seemed to catch his eye; a small transformer, a toy car and two wind-up pterodactyls on wheels. I said, “Oomi, no, those are going away. You have plenty of toys already.” (Which was true, he had an obscene amount of toys.) Then I put them back into the box and went back to sorting. A minute later, I see a little brown striped paw, digging around in the box. One by one he starts pulling out toys, including… a small transformer, a toy car and the wind-up pterodactyls on wheels. “Oomi, I have to get rid of stuff. We can’t keep all these toys.” I put the toys back. At this point, he looked a bit pouty and walked a short distance away. Ten minutes later he’s back, happily digging through the box in that cheerful Oomi way. “OK”, I said, “You can have one. Go ahead. Pick it out.” He looks at me, digs in the box and pulls out the transformer, then starts digging again. “Oomi.” He stops. “OK. Which ones do you want?” He starts digging. “Not all of them!” He stops briefly, and then pulls out the toy car. I start to put the top on the box and he puts his paw in, stopping me. Admitting defeat, I hold the top open. He reaches in and retrieves both the wind-up pterodactyls on wheels, paws around a bit more and sits back, finished.

Did he understand every word? Who knows? But he got the gist of it. He always did. My wild, crazy boy who knew that toys are important.

The flowers on your grave are just starting to come up again. Soon, they will bloom. Today it’s been a year since I lost you, but I you are always with me and you always will be.

They Say It's Your Birthday

Happy Birthday, my sweet, sweet boy.

I miss you every day. I think of you and the light you brought to me and I don't know how any kitty could contain that much unrestrained joy in nine little pounds.

Enjoy the treats wherever you are and keep purring down on me. I love you so and I always will.

A Thousand Tiny Cuts

It's hard to believe it has been four days since Oomi left. Each day brings me forward in time, toward healing, but I don't want that. I don’t want to heal. I don’t want to be comforted. I want to stay here in this protective bubble of pain. Here, I am still in that place where he is everywhere and even irrational moments, like not wanting to scoop the cat litter because his mark is still there, keep me insulated from his passing. Even though he is no longer here, I felt his presence so keenly. His reality is protected and still warm on my skin. It hurts, but I still have him so vibrantly in my head and my heart. Every step I take toward resuming my life takes me away from him. Getting in my car, I realize the last time I was in it was with him and I remember. The last time I sat on the couch, was when I was still holding him in my arms while he left this life. The last time I used this pan was to boil him chicken in the hopes he would eat something. And taking the car somewhere, sitting on the couch, washing the pan, washing his food dish, his washcloth that he adopted and liked to beat up…it all takes him away, bit by bit. Takes me forward into healing and my new life without him and I don’t want to go.

Each morning I wake up without him takes me further into the world. And in that world there are endless reminders, mail that arrives that was written when he was still here. Toys he last played with, still sitting in the places he left them, his mark still on them. Bedding that must be changed that was slept on by him. And each time I touch these things, it erases that feeling that he is still here. It carries me into that furture without him. Well meaning people who think they have my best interests will suggest, diplomatically or clumsily, that it’s time to move on, or that I did everything I could and that I gave him a good life and should be comforted by that. As if I could be, as if that will make this emptied out feeling go away. As if that would fill my arms with his soft warm fur or fill my senses with his wonderful sweet earthly smell.

I don’t want to be told I’ll get over it. That I’ll get better. That the pain will lessen in time. I know that and I don’t want it. I want my boy. I know I can’t have him, but my heart doesn’t care. My arms don’t care. I want to hold him again. I want him to make it better. That’s what he did, it was his gift.

In time, I know I will be able to appreciate that gift and that it was shared with me. But for now, I just wish it could still be mine.

Good Night, Sweet Prince

Oomi, my sweet gentle soul, passed peacefully around noon today in my arms. Our vet came by the house and gave him something to make him sleepy before the final shot. I rocked him in my arms and held him next to the window to see the sunshine. Just before he fell asleep, he saw a bird.

It was very peaceful and quick and I held him for a long, long time after, just telling him how much I loved him. I kissed him over and over to make up for all the years of kisses we will miss...he is still so soft and he loved getting kisses.

I am happy his pain is over, but I miss him so. I buried him in between two great pines, a spot he liked to visit. They will watch over his resting place. There's a plant called bleeding heart, it's delicate and comes up every spring. I planted some on his grave along with some wildflower seed.

I cannot begin to tell you what a comfort so many of you have been. To be in touch with people who understand what amazing creatures we have in our lives is a blessing.

Oomi was sweet and smart and funny, and always so impossibly loving. Like Nash, he was just always happy. It's hard to think that while I can still call out his name, he won't come running when I do it, I won't see that look he gave me when I said his name. That "Yes?! What's up? What are we doing?" look that spoke of how ready he was to have fun or be cuddled or embark on some adventure. Until I spoke it to him for the last time, I didn't realize the power it had, just saying it. He felt like so much a part of me, my buddy, that it would just be natural for us to have many years of adventures together. He's gone ahead now and wherever he is, a good time is being had because that's just who he is.

Still Here

The last couple of days have been tough on our intrepid hero. He has not been eating and he really does NOT appreciate having gobs of Nutra-Cal forced on him. Yet, yesterday he felt good enough to scratch the scratching post and at least look like he wanted to run up it. This morning I awoke to find him in the kitchen eating on his own, which was encouraging. (I've been sleeping on the living room couch to be closer to him and hear if he needs something. My bed is just too much trouble for him to get to.) He is now taking an appetite stimulant on top of his prednisone.

We went to the vet to have more fluid drained off. The techs said he did very well and was purring and giving them happy fists and seemed pretty relaxed. All his draws up to now were a cloudy, whitish color. Doc said the fluid this time was thicker and more yellow, which is the classic FIP fluid. We both know that means the clock is ticking. Still, for a guy who was supposed to be bridge bound four days ago, he is doing OK.

It's hard to see him so wasted, literally skin and bones (and a big belly), my little circus athlete who was so strong...but he perseveres. There are boxes everywhere now, make-shift stairs to help him get up and down the furniture. If only I could take his pain for him, I would take it in a heartbeat. Anything to keep him from hurting or being uncomfortable. But he obviously isn't ready to go anywhere, stubborn little bugger, he keeps going and as long as he continues to surprise me by doing this or that lively activity (like going out of the deck yesterday), I'll go along.

Purrs to all.

A Call From the Govenor

Well, what a day. Earlier today, I called the vet's office to see if he would come out tomorrow to help Oomi to the bridge. Yesterday was not a good day, Oomi barely ate anything, though he did eat more toward evening.

This morning he seemed really down and seemed like he wanted to eat, but was just too tired. I barely got anything into him. He did go outside on the deck and look out. I was pretty sure he wanted to eat some grass. I went outside and picked some grass and held it through the fence for him to chew on. Then he went and stood by the outside door. I opened the door for him, but he seemed hesitant, so I picked him up and carried out to some of his favorite grass hummocks. He ate a little and then headed back to the house. He seemed so tired and shaky. When I called the vet, they told me the doc would be out of town until Thursday, but he could come by tonight. My heart just constricted. I don't want Oomi to suffer for any amount of time, but every second I have with him is precious. Tonight? Any time will be too soon. But he seemed so worn and I don't want to make him stay and suffer for me. I agreed and sat down with him to try to memorize every hair on his beautiful head. As it got later, everytime I heard a car I thought, "Please, don't be them. Please, not yet."

Just after the doctor's office called to let me know he was on his way, I turned around and Oomi was in the kitchen, looking up at me. Then he jumped up on the counter where he has taken to waiting for me to make his chicken. So, I made some chicken; not knowing if he would be able to eat it, but wanting to give him whatever I could. I barely got it in front of him and he started eating. Really eating (at least by the last few days definition).

There was a knock at the door. I opened it and said to the doc; "He's eating chicken." Of course, when they entered, Oomi high-tailed it for the bedroom. His doctor said, maybe now is not the right time. We agreed that he should at least have a look at him to make sure and see if we could maybe drain some fluid off and make him more comfortable. I managed to get him out of the bedroom, but the instant I set him on the couch, he ran off again. The doctor looked at me and said, "I think we can wait. If he can take off like that, I think he's good for a while."

So, we got a reprieve.

Yay! Yay! Yay! Good for my boy! He's a tough nut. I know we are only delaying, but every second I have is precious and it did my heart good to see a measure of his old gumption. I haven't seen him since, but later I'll try to make it up to him with more chicken. Ain't he a peach?

Quiet Day

Last night Oomi was curled up asleep on the couch with Wiyaka just about a foot away. He had his paws curled into little fists like he does. Just the cutest thing. Then he woke and walked over to give Wiyaka a lick or two and settle down to have her give him a good bath and give her one back. Just a few quiet minutes of them sharing affection like old times.

Today has been a pretty quiet one so far. Oomi ate some chicken, but not much and not much else yet. Sometimes though, he'll get up later and want more. There is always the Nutra-Cal paste, but I hate to go there. I don't want to force things on him if I don't have to and he hasn't shown any interest in the paste when I offer it to him (Darn!).

But how lovely to open our mail and our page to see a slew of cat treats and rosettes (and a star!) from from wellwishers and the angels at PAWS. You guys are great. Here's Oomi fighting for time and all you out there are sending him purrs and good thoughts and prayers. The love and good thoughts must be doing some good.

Here's an Oomi-story. On his first birthday, he figured out how to jump up onto the shower stall doors. He walked back and forth like a tightrope walker while I nearly had a heart attack watching him. He strutted back and forth like the smartest guy in the class until he thought about getting down and realized he hadn't worked that part out. Then he called out to me. I stood in front of the doors until he crawled down onto my shoulder with no small relief. I thought that would be it, but no, it became one of his favorite things to do, always calling out when he wanted down.

After a while, he learned to jump down by himself, but it became the morning ritual for him to get up there during my shower and walk back and forth or just perch and wait for me to finish. As soon as I got a towel around me, he would step down onto my shoulder and into my arms for a morning cuddle. Then he jumped down onto my knee and down to the floor and looks behind his shoulder with his "Okay, this way to the kitchen" look. He fills my days with joy, this boy.

Fluid, Phooid!

The last two days were okay, but not great. Oomi did go out on the deck and catch a moth (how he looked like his old self - so curious and joyful). But in the afternoon, it was obvious that he was tired.

Today, we went back to the vet to have more fluid taken out of his abdomen. The doctor and I agreed not to take too much this time. It's a double-edged sword. The fluid that builds up in their abdomen puts pressure on their lungs and heart, but also contains what little proteins and electrolytes a kitty needs to keep running. Also, taking too much can cause a faster build up and put stress on their systems. Anyway, he seemed to feel better after.

The vet thinks we are getting closer to "that time." But he said to see how he does. Every time I think he is getting too weak, he'll suprise me by jumping up in the stove counter (which he is not supposed to do, but who cares) and giving me that "how 'bout some chicken?" look. Then he'll chew through a half or quarter of a chicken breast, or go out on the deck for some fresh air. We're hanging as tough as we can.

Anyway, thanks for following along and all the good wishes and purrs we have gotten.

Better today for our Anniversary

Today was Oomi's and my anniversary, it was three years ago that he came to live with me. Three years seems like much longer in Oomi Time - it's hard to remember my world before him. Yesterday was not a good day, he was tired and not very hungry and hid behind the couch most of the day. I wanted so much to be able to do something for him, but he didn't want to be fussed with and there isn't that much I can do.

But today, he was up early, going out on the deck, eating breakfast and climbing to the top of the tower to share a cat bath with Wiyaka. That made her happy as he hasn't spent too much time with her.

He had boiled chicken all throughout the day and even went for a walk. He's more like himself when we go for walks. They seem to help him forget he doesn't feel well. As usual of late, toward evening he gets tired. But he is sleeping on the couch and not behind it and that is a pretty big thing. It's hard to see him as just a shadow of his former self, but he says; "Don't count me out just yet. I'm hanging in."

Every Day is a Gift

I'm writing this diary for Oomi as he doesn't feel too well lately. About a month ago, I took Oomi to the doctor because he wasn't quite "right." After a test or two and four hours at the specialist, we were told what I feared most, that Oomi most likely had FIP.
He had been exposed when I tried to get him a kitten companion (twice), but had tested negative at the time. FIP is a fatal illness that is difficult to understand, research and pin down.
We just came back from the vet yesterday after having fluid drained from Oomi's belly for the second time. The wet form of FIP produces fluid that builds up in the abdomen and makes it hard to breathe (and other kitty enjoyments). The wet form can be aggressive and I don't know how much longer we have, so we are trying to make the most of our time.

We have been going for walks outside on a leash. Oomi picked up walking on a leash just last month and enjoys inspecting the grounds, getting a drink for the creek and trying to sneak up on birds, laying down in the sun. We've also been out for night walks, trying to get the drop on mice, which is difficult with a lumbering human holding a flashlight right behind you. Oomi caught and ate three crickets just a few nights ago. We didn't go for a walk today. It was raining and Oomi spent most of the day behind the couch. He goes there for "quiet time" away from Wiyaka's rowdiness. He didn't feel to well today, but he continues to surprise me. I am hoping tomorrow will be a better day.

On another note, Oomi wanted me to thank everyone who has been so kind, sending us notes of encouragement and giving him so many nice rosesettes. This community is so generous and warm and we are so very touched by you all.