Of Being Back… Probably

You are probably reading this because

A. You got it in your mail

B. You’ve subscribed to this blog, and this sudden update piqued your curiosity.

C. You stumbled upon this page by accident.

Either way, lets start by having a moment of silence for the most special person in my life.

Cocoa Beans was a truly remarkable cat. For 10 years, she was an integral part of our family. The glue that held shit together if you will. Like most cats on the internet, she loved boxes, preventing people from working, terrorising small animals and pretending she was human.

She was smart. Extremely smart. She could tell time just by looking at the clock, knowing whether or not it was safe to drag someone out of their bed for food or whether someone was late etc. She knew which days of the week were designated outing days for her… Hey, she was smarter than most cats I’ve seen.

This one time, she was sleeping in her box-lid bed on the parent’s bed. Half-asleep, dad kicked the box (including her) nearly off the bed. She got up, calmly stalked up to his face, slapped him hard and went back to sleep. Morning came and mum told us about the incident. Dad had an inch long gash running up his nose. Cocoa gave him her worst death glare, the kind that can be interpreted as “Come at me and I’ll fuck you up”

Sadly, all good times must end. Two years ago, she got lumps on her belly. The vet declared them to be benign cysts and removed them. They came back. Got them removed again. The third time they came back, he re-evaluated his earlier diagnosis and claimed that she had breast cancer. To make matters worse, he couldn’t operate on her again. The previous operations had removed many of her lymph nodes. Any more and her immunity would be compromised.

So the only option that remained was to keep her comfortable for as long as we could. When the time came, either she’d pass away on her own, or we’d have to put her to sleep.

That’s how she spent the last three months of her life. In a bloody collar. A collar that restricted her movement, caused her to bump in doorways, and made her push her box off the bed when she wanted to sleep in it.

Incidentally, this was the last time we watched Doctor Who together.

So anyways, During the end of October 2012, her wounds broke, and her condition got worse. She started to slow down. We rushed her to the vet, to try and stop the bleeding.

You know how you read about remarkable animals who do amazing feats? Well, she didn’t save Timmy from drowning in a well, but as the vet pointed out, she shouldn’t have been able to move for ages considering the condition of her wounds.

On the 1st of November, 2012, we had to put her to sleep. She fought hard, never showing us any weakness irrespective of the fact that she was in constant pain.

It’s been 6 months since then. I wonder if it gets any easier.

Thank you, for the wonderful time.

 

Now that I’ve successfully managed to ruin your mood, I think it’s safe to announce that I’ll be trying to make a comeback. Enough with the hiatuses.