Nathancat7
Jedi Master
My himilayan (25% siamese) cat just died today at 11 from feline luekimia. Not that anyone here knew him but he was a very special cat. I've been doing Eirue Eolas for about a month now pretty much every day, and we did it together--That was the last thing we did together. He stopped purring about two weeks ago, at least perceptably, but he did still knead his paws. This is a cat that would purr for 8 hours striaght, all night, with very little encouragement.
Sherpa was second luitenant to his brother Khalil Ghibran, a very smart black and white tom. Sherpa was a late bloomer and a roughhouser/player, whereas Khalil was an observer, often sickly, and sweetly charming cat--usually to get food. Sherpa was porly and large, but he wasn't really about food and reward.
Before they were neutered Khalil chased Sherpa away. Didn't see him till ( months later when I saw a flyer asking if this was mine, or somebody's cat. He was living fifteen miles away under a trailer of a woman who raised purebred Balinisians. She said the only reason she didn't take him to the shelter was that she thought he might be Balinisian (somthing about his undercoat) or perhaps pure himalayan.
When he came back he was much bigger, but most striking was his heart was just wide open, and big. He was wild but also very friendly, if that makes sense. He and Khalil had some spats and he put Khalil in his place. Trying to separate them he bit my hand to the bone in a fit of hormonal rage--but I didn't get mad at him, I understood, and the next moment he was purring in my arms. You're probably asking why I didn't neuter them--but I did--I just made a mistake and was a little late.
I' not telling this story to garner sympathy or the like, I just miss him and needed to tell somebody about him.
An article in Sott. talked about how animals generally play games, whatever games , to win. Well, Sherpa remained playful throughout his life, and he really wasn't about winning--just play.
His favorite thing was to drink bath-water. I used to sing to him in the bath. Sometimes he would be mesmerized by my singing in the bath. One time he actually hopped onto my chest in a shallow bath and drank warm water and just settled in.
He was a carrier of the virus--but it became active when I brought a small dog home--which was a mistake. The dog was trying to mate with him and he bit him and caused blood poisoning. The real problem was the stress activated the virus. In the end I was putting copper wire and around him and giving him water and food through needle plunger.
Sherpa had a good mother but we were very bonded. Sometimes I think I interrupted his maturation process--though he did fine on his own I find it important to respect the boundaries of an animal and not see him as an extention of myself, but as his own being. It started as a kitten, maybe in a dream. In the dream he and his four brothers were on the base of the bed interested in some food I had on my knee. Joseph was in the lead for the treat at the last moment Sherpa over-took him and took the treat.
Thankyou for letting me share this.
Sherpa was second luitenant to his brother Khalil Ghibran, a very smart black and white tom. Sherpa was a late bloomer and a roughhouser/player, whereas Khalil was an observer, often sickly, and sweetly charming cat--usually to get food. Sherpa was porly and large, but he wasn't really about food and reward.
Before they were neutered Khalil chased Sherpa away. Didn't see him till ( months later when I saw a flyer asking if this was mine, or somebody's cat. He was living fifteen miles away under a trailer of a woman who raised purebred Balinisians. She said the only reason she didn't take him to the shelter was that she thought he might be Balinisian (somthing about his undercoat) or perhaps pure himalayan.
When he came back he was much bigger, but most striking was his heart was just wide open, and big. He was wild but also very friendly, if that makes sense. He and Khalil had some spats and he put Khalil in his place. Trying to separate them he bit my hand to the bone in a fit of hormonal rage--but I didn't get mad at him, I understood, and the next moment he was purring in my arms. You're probably asking why I didn't neuter them--but I did--I just made a mistake and was a little late.
I' not telling this story to garner sympathy or the like, I just miss him and needed to tell somebody about him.
An article in Sott. talked about how animals generally play games, whatever games , to win. Well, Sherpa remained playful throughout his life, and he really wasn't about winning--just play.
His favorite thing was to drink bath-water. I used to sing to him in the bath. Sometimes he would be mesmerized by my singing in the bath. One time he actually hopped onto my chest in a shallow bath and drank warm water and just settled in.
He was a carrier of the virus--but it became active when I brought a small dog home--which was a mistake. The dog was trying to mate with him and he bit him and caused blood poisoning. The real problem was the stress activated the virus. In the end I was putting copper wire and around him and giving him water and food through needle plunger.
Sherpa had a good mother but we were very bonded. Sometimes I think I interrupted his maturation process--though he did fine on his own I find it important to respect the boundaries of an animal and not see him as an extention of myself, but as his own being. It started as a kitten, maybe in a dream. In the dream he and his four brothers were on the base of the bed interested in some food I had on my knee. Joseph was in the lead for the treat at the last moment Sherpa over-took him and took the treat.
Thankyou for letting me share this.
