Sasha came into our lives as a 3 month old kitten from the Humane Society on Macklind in June 2001. There was some discussion about him actually being 6 months old, born in December 2000, instead of March 2001, but I don't think there was any merit to this. He was so tiny, even smaller than a typical kitten. Sootie Poot was not even a year old but already so much more mature. They didn't snuggle close like sibling kitties often do but had a great relationship nonetheless. Sasha was supposed to be Phil's kitty, Daddy's boy. I brought him home in the box from the shelter and presented him to Phil in our spare bedroom. We named him Sasha, a name we'd picked out before we had him. It's a "manly Russian name." Over the years, he gathered many nicknames. Early nicknames included "Sasha Bin Laden" (because of his hiding under the covers, like hiding in caves!), "uncle chuck" for the way he looked when he stood tall on his hind legs, "Boy!" "Bubba", "Bubbas", "Mister", "Mister-Man" "Dude", "Doot-do", "lovey" .... I could go on and on. Each nickname highlighted a piece of his personality. The thing I will always remember and cherish is how much he loved me. The plan for him to be Phil's boy backfired. I can confidently say this boy loved his momma above anything else.
He loved me until the very end. Phil has said that he believes Sasha wanted to let go at a time when I wouldn't be here to see his final suffering and goodbye. I am trying not to beat myself up too much for not being home when it was time for him to go. I was able to work from home all week and spend the days with him. He wasn't as present or affectionate with me in the last week. I think maybe he was separating himself a little. He did snuggle me in our last night together and on his final morning. We snoozed and snuggled a little longer than Phil and, as I did every morning, I carried him downstairs in my arms to breakfast.
Over the last few weeks, he was eating less, more lethargic. I would feed him as often as I could, as much as I could, whatever I could. Sometimes that would mean spoon feeding him baby food from the jar. I'd even started putting the high calorie paste in his mouth each day, just to give him a little extra, although he didn't appreciate that as much. Since his Triaditis diagnosis in May 2011, Sasha had received steroid and b vitamin injections every 3 weeks. We had ups and downs with weight, energy, demeanor, socializing, etc, but we knew in the last couple months that the end was drawing near.
He spent almost 2 months with a "Donut" (round e collar) due to a wound and stitches on his leg. His skin had become thin from the steroids and the injection sites would easily become a larger wound. He was so adorable in that donut but we desperately wanted it to be off him. We'd give him "naked" time whenever we could, but after pulling out his stitches twice, we realized he'd need to keep it on until the stitches were out.
One morning in March, Sasha started breathing in a labored, gasping way. I brought him to the vet clinic, where he was diagnosed with a gallup murmur. The doctor indicated we could try to treat this with another pill, given daily but we decided to focus on his quality of life rather than quantity and prevent another traumatic daily medication. The triaditis was already progressing.
I believe it was the heart condition and a stroke that lead to his death on May 24. In a way, I am grateful and relieved because I feared he would just keep wasting away to nothing. He was once more than 8 lbs and at the very end, weighed a little more than 5 1/2 lbs. I take some solace in the fact that he is no longer suffering and his frail little body is made strong, whole and perfectly complete again. What I am left with is a hole in my heart that will never be filled.
Sasha was my little man. I carried him and held him more than any other kitty in my life. He sat cradled like a baby in my arms (on his back) or on my hip like a toddler, holding on with his little paws around my neck. From the moment he came into our lives, he "nursed" from ears. At times this was more snuggle and lovey but he could get pretty intense with his affection! He would often choose to do this at 3-5 A.M.! Later variations of the nursing included him giving me "wet willies"- putting his wet nose in my ear, or up my nose, or trying to burrow into my mouth! He snuggled me with such force.
I could always see from the look in his eyes how much he loved and adored me. Even from across the room, I could "call" him to me just by making eye contact. There was a depth of love in those little eyes. In those moments, I was his world and he was mine.
I am trying desperately to hold on to all the little memories. All the ways he snuggled, all the times he curled up in a tight little ball (like a tiny squirrel baby!), when he slept so soundly. The times he'd sprawl out with arms and legs hanging over the edge of the couch, bed or table. How he'd growl when carried a new toy, head held very high. He loved the toys with feathers and loved to play with ribbon. Most mornings, he would chew on the bottom of the shower curtain, as he waited for my bathroom break before going down stairs. He sneezed a lot; little tiny sneezes, in a series of 5 or 6. Choo, choo, choo, choo, choo.
I'm holding on to the memories of him sitting on my lap at the computer, or draped over my arm, or trying to climb up onto my lap while I was riding the trainer. All the little things he did, so many wonderful things, every day....
With the flow of tears, they feel like they are slipping away. I want to be distanced from the pain but remain so close to the memories. I can't believe I'll never get to kiss that M on his head, or the kitten soft fur behind his ears. I truly believe he was the most kissed cat ever. Even during his night time "loveys", I'd kiss him in my sleep (sometimes in effort to get him to stop with the over the top affection).
We tried to prepare ourselves, knowing the end was near. Yet nothing could prepare me for the enormous grief, the hole in my heart. He was a part of my every day for 13 years. Part of who I AM is because of his love and my love for him.
I am truly better for having known him but that does not ease the pain of his goodbye.
[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
