Once upon a time, in a house not that far away, considering, there lived a cat called Aristaeus. He was nominally a brownish tabby, but he had a wonderful white bib, white paws with a signature black toe on one of them. Because of, or to live up to, that sophisticated white bib, he craved the good life and got it in spades. This cat loved roast chicken, fresh salmon, smoked salmon, fresh tuna, tinned tuna, prosciutto di Parma, and even freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. When we had pheasant for Christmas dinner, Ari wasn’t that far away asking for nibbles from the dining table. Sadly, Ari died this afternoon at about 1:40pm, leaving an enormous cat-shaped hole in our lives.
For the past four months, Ari has been ill. Like many cats his age he suffered a bit from hyperthyroidism (which we had under control) but was starting to suffer from Chronic Renal Failure. We were giving him subcutaneous solution once every couple of days to help his kidneys function and flush out toxins, but he was starting to get thin. Still eating, for Ari was the consummate teller of time, especially dinner time, but it didn’t seem to be helping. Off to Dr Walker of Pets First Animal Hospital we went for some blood tests to see what was going on. It turned out that the hyperthyroidism had essentially gone away and continuing to take the methimazole to counter it was probably causing him to lose weight. She recommended stopping the methimazole and continuing with the sub-Q (as we expert solution givers call it). But Ari wasn’t getting better, he’d started not eating too well. Back to Dr Walker for more tests, and this time it was more grave: Ari was anaemic, he wasn’t producing enough red blood cells. This time, the remedies came thick and fast: first some Epogen injections to boost his red blood cell production, some Azodyl to boost his gut bacteria, Epakitin to bind the phosphorus that his kidneys weren’t eliminating, and Cyproheptadine to boost his appetite. And the sub-Q was now daily with a booster of vitamin B. And here’s some low protein veterinary diet food to help him put on weight. Our cats are like me, chunky, but by this time Ari was just under 5 pounds, less than half his usual weight.
I continued this daily regimen diligently for the past two weeks, but no matter what, Ari was getting thinner and weaker. He’d spend the day sleeping on a puppy pad on the chest in my office, getting up to eat and drink and pee and poop. Sometimes, Eury would be there with him. But then last week, he got so weak, he couldn’t get up in time to go pee. He was incontinent. Off to Dr Walker again, but this time the blood tests were terrible: 19% PCV is counted as critical anaemia and Ari was at 12%. After that, despite the Epogen injections, it was all a matter of time. This past week, I went out to buy throwaway incontinence or puppy training pads to put over the bed and on his various mats. I bought some waterproof underpads as well to try and ensure that I didn’t have to wash the duvet and bedclothes every night. This past weekend though was the worst: he’d stopped eating, even his usual treat of baby food, and had stopped drinking. He couldn’t even lift his head any more. The photo to the right is Ari last Friday showing how emaciated he was.
Today, the judge in Donna’s trial gave everyone the day off after a couple of witnesses so that Donna could come home. She got into bed with Ari on his puppy pad to cuddle him and they took their last nap together, for soon after she awoke, Ari had a seizure and died.
On the way back from the vets (we took him there: they will arrange for his cremation), we were remembering little Baby Monster and his 17+ years with us. At the time we got him in September 1996, we already had two kittens, Orpheus and Eurydice. A friend of ours, Beth Clements, had just contacted us, having heard we’d just got two kittens and would we like another? It seems that she’d been presented with a litter of several, all given away apart from two. She herself had no room for any more. We drove over and met little Ari, one of the two, who immediately hid under the cabinet. Needless to say, we’d brought over our pet carrier – just in case, mind – and left with this new kitten firmly housed inside. After the initial shock from our other two kittens – it required some finessing with rolled-up paper balls to make them play together – he fit right in.
But what to name this new kitten? It seemed like a plan to continue the Greek myth theme, so out came the books. After a little while we had it: Aristaeus was a minor god of bees and bee-keeping. It seemed that he was chasing Eurydice one day, when she tripped, was bitten by a viper, and died. (After which, Orpheus travelled to the Underworld to try and get her back from Hades and Persephone.) This was too fortuitous: we didn’t want to use Persephone, or Hades come to that, so Aristaeus it was. And of course, that soon got shortened to Ari, and being a film fan, I naturally called him the Third Cat, after Harry Lime and – well – because that’s what he was. Eventually we started calling him Baby Monster, for reasons I can’t recollect.
Ari was always a Mama’s boy. He would snuggle up with her and snooze as she worked in bed in the evening. Afternoon naps at the weekend were also always a good opportunity to snuggle and nap next to his Mum, holding onto her arm. He was an equal-opportunity curler-upper: we have lots of photos of him with all of his brothers, curled up on the bed, on the couch, on the wing chair. He was the cat who had to drink water straight from the tap in the bathroom, and, to remind me as I blearily made my way to the shower in the morning, he’d be waiting by the sink, miaowing. As mentioned, he was a food junky and would be the one to remind me as I worked in my office, that it was time for dinner, now! The others would just sit around and watch and let him get on with it. He would be confused by the daylight savings time changes in the spring and autumn, but pretty quickly he’d acclimatize and would be miaowing for food again at around 6pm.
And he loved human food and would bite your finger if you weren’t careful in offering him a tasty morsel of prosciutto or chicken. We joke that we have the most gourmet cats (perhaps gourmand on some days) in the neighborhood and this effort was led by Ari. Over the past year, as he’d got older and more frail, he’d been pushing his luck by jumping on the dining table as we were eating, hoping for that tasty nibble. Some days he’d patiently wait, sniffing the air; other days, we’d have to put him in our bedroom and shut the door because he was being a pest.
Our cats are all indoor cats, but in the summer sometimes, for a treat, we’ll let them out into the back garden. Like the others, Ari would take to opportunity to chew on some grass from the lawn, but he was mainly a roll-around-in-the-dirt kind of cat, necessitating a good brush down before he was allowed back in the house. And it would have to be a good brush down: he had this beautiful white bib, remember?
Once upon a time, in a house not too far away, considering, there lived a cat called Aristaeus. But now he’s gone and we miss him and we want to live the last 17 years with him again.
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2 Responses
#1 Stephen R said...
27-Jan-14 8:54 PMMy thoughts are with you guys. I'm sorry for your loss.
#2 Jeroen Wiert Pluimers said...
28-Jan-14 11:41 AMOuch. That's a really long time. Hopefully the pain will take a short while to fade and the good memories will last.
Orpheus - I just knew that name came from you (:
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