Today at 4PM, the world lost something truly amazing. Today, my cat, Nimitz, had to be put to sleep. He was eighteen years old and lived a life to be envious of.
Nimitz, not named after the admiral, but the treecat, was fearless and brave. In fact, that’s how we found him. As a little kitten, I can only assume that his momma left to find food and his gurgly tummy made him follow her. He lost her, but found us after we heard him crying in the dark.
He was a little ball of white fuzz that grew into a stunning adult. We assume he was part bobcat. In his prime, he had a full neck ruff, about an inch of tail, and I couldn’t touch my fingers around his chest.
Here he is at about 14 years old, discovering snow for the first time.
He was fearless. I’ve never seen him scared of anything. I had to physically restrain him from attacking a full grown Rottweiler who wandered into our yard. If you sat down in our house, within minutes Nimitz would find your lap. He didn’t care who you were, as long as there was a lap, he was heading for it.
The weird thing is that he was easily trained too. I trained him to sit on command when he was about 3. He remembered that always. Even just a few weeks ago, he would sit on command. He also learned where the treats where and would get them. Even if they were on the fridge in a glass jar. Push the jar off, avoid the glass, and chew open the bag. Quickly followed by puking up the contents of the bag on the carpet.
Another reason we thought he was part-bobcat was his claws. I’ve never seen a domestic cat with claws that big. Using trimmers, I could easily cut a half-inch off. I’ve seen him go through a cardboard box with his claws. And human skin was nothing to him. More people have bled because of Nimitz than I care to think about. He wasn’t mean, but you would know if you did something wrong… like not sharing your chicken dinner.
But as big and powerful and tough as he was, he still liked nothing better than a warm lap or to snuggle in the bed. He was a lover.
Nimitz, my friend, you were a stubborn, annoying, pain-in-the-ass. You were also the best cat it has ever been my privilege to be owned by. I think you trained me as much as I trained you. I will miss you and I will think about you often.
Seeing one’s best pal get sick, infirm, and finally die is hard. It helps to realize that he’s no longer in pain, but not much.
I’m not sad because he’s dead. He’s gone, nothing can change that. I’m sad because of I will miss him. I won’t have him laying my lap anymore. I won’t have him begging for treats anymore. I won’t be able to show anyone else how cool he was. I’m sad because a giant part of my life for the last 18 years is gone and that part can’t be replaced.
In closing, I would ask that everyone take a couple of bucks and give it to the local human society, no-kill shelter, or Petsmart (who donates it to local animal shelters). Remember that we’re big tough humans and pets can’t protect themselves from us. I wish I could save all the cats and dogs in the shelters, but I can’t. I do what I can.
