So when I got the call in May that Cassandra’s kidney disease had raised its head, after three years of slumber and medicine diet, I took my chances and went over for a day. Little did I know then that I was saying goodbye to Ramses, too.
I picked him up and made an off-hand comment that he felt very light. It was not unusual: he’s had IBD for the past several years and appetite and weight had constantly fluctuated – although he had immediately calmed down and put on one and a half kilos more after my friend took him in. That is a lot for a cat that weighed only three kilos and a bit when he arrived, stressed to the max.
My friend weighed him later, and got worried. A month later I got another phone call: Ramses had diabetes, and it was advancing fast. The only option was insulin shots for the rest of his short life (he was nearly fifteen), plus losing Cassandra anyway, which would be so sad for his highly cuddly character. The decision was not mine to make but I think my friend and her children, all heartbroken, made the right one: one day in July both cats fell asleep together, side by side in the same travel box.
I was twenty-four when I got Cassandra. Twenty-five when Ramses joined us. They have been with me for nearly my entire adult life: all the ups and downs. And there have been many. It was so difficult to give them up – it felt like giving up an arm or a leg. I am surprised by how difficult it was to hear that they were gone. Writing this now, nearly a month later, still brings tears into my eyes.
But above it all, I am filled to the brim with gratitude towards my friend and her children, who gave both kitties a loving, peaceful, nearly travel-free retirement home. Cassandra slept with my friend, and Ramses with her daughter – who used to say that he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. I just wish they had more time together. Don’t we all, always wish for more time?
(Copenhagen, Denmark; July 2020)
My heart leapt when I saw these two sweethearts again. One has grown a little fat, but that’s okay: she is nearly sixteen years old. The other one is healthier than in many years – and he just turned fourteen. Even after a year I still miss them very much. And I am grateful to their new family for all this current happiness.
I am so happy for these two cute goofballs and their new(ish) family. Ramses has a new best human friend, a girl he sleeps beside every night, and whom he meets by the door every day when she comes home. Lady Cassandra has found her perfect napping spots on the couch and lots of ear rubs and chill-time in the lap of my friend.
After two and a half months it is still hard for me. These two adorable beings have found a new loving home. Hopefully for another 5 good years of elderly life. My heart broke, but I knew it was the same break I would eventually experience once they leave for good, in old age.
The Wildlife Channel. Live from Loviisa.
No, it’s not a fur ball. It’s a cat. With four legs and a tail – somewhere. In something that looks like a sideways-modified balasana or child’s pose.
“Cat days” in this household are often defined as “belly-up days”. No other cat I know spends as much time belly up as madame Cassandra. I think today I will have a cat day, too. It may well be the last one for a few months to come.
Rewinding back to a moment under the Nordic spring sun. The wonderful Finnish poet Edith Södergran loved cats, too, and wrote:
Nobody knows better how to chill on a Saturday morning than a cat. Or, preferably, two.
When it’s cold outside, wrap yourself into a duvet roll like Sir Ramses, and never get out of bed.
This blue marble 