Fifteen years ago, give or take some time, (not that it is relevant now, but I sure wish I had some of it laying around I could use). a little squirt runt of a cat was born to another cat we had at the time, he was one of 5 kittens born that day, and unlike the others, he was pure black with a small, very small white speck of fur on his chest. Unlike the others he had no time for humans. He did not try to engage us or interact in any manner, His one and only interests were with his mother, and his siblings.
As they grew and were weened from their mother, the other 4 would attack shoelaces, chase laser dots, playfight with each other, and generally begin to explore the house. My 11 year old son at the time named them all 1 by 1. When he got to this one, he took one look at him, and named him after his favorite tv character of his younger days - "Count von Count". So "Count von Cat" entered our lives that day. When the litter was old enough we began giving them away 1 by 1, but my son insisted that Count remain with us, so it was done.
He continued to ignore humans completely, and time marched on. About the time he was 6 months old, still extremely tiny, I began repainting the lower part of the house. As I worked my way around and through the rooms, Count followed me and stayed with me the entire day, smelling the fresh paint at every opportunity. Did he get mentally altered from the paint fumes? No idea, but from that day forward, he was a 100% people kitty.
He would wait by the door in the morning to say goodbye to each of us, and be there to greet us home later in the day as well, naturally extracting a 1 pet toll from each of us both ways.. He required to be allowed to sit on my shoulder for at least 10 minutes each night, and no other cat was ever allowed this. If anybody, stranger or not, paid any attention to any other animal in the house, he required to get the "last pet"
I won't bore you with a 15 year history of the little guy, I'll just say he was as easy going, well mannered, and affectionate as any cat could ever be. A week ago we noticed some weight loss, over the weekend it became extreme. He still visited me each day, but seemed to lack the strength to go up the stairs. I made him a special bed, and made special arrangements for his needs, as I feared the worst. This morning, those fears were confirmed, The vet diagnosed him as terminal kidney failure. He said he was in pain, and while I could extend his life by perhaps a week or so, it would not be a good or easy, or painless week for him to go through.
Yes People, I know I am a Dom. And to some of you that label means "unshakable required", but I wont dishonor him with such lies. He was more to me than a cat, he was intuitive about my moods, and never faltered in his loyalty to me. To be perfectly honest, the decision to end his suffering this morning was one the hardest things I ever had to do. I will miss my little four legged all black furry friend more than I thought I would, and I thankful to God for having had the time we had.
