adrienmundi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
adrienmundi) wrote2010-06-21 10:24 am
adrienmundi) wrote2010-06-21 10:24 am
Zevo
1992 - 2010
We got the word Thursday night, about 10:30 PM EST that Zevo passed away. It helps a lot to know he wasn't alone at the end; that had been my biggest fear since it became apparent just how loudly the clock was ticking. It wasn't a surprise, really. Our vet wasn't sure he would make it through the night two weeks ago, and a week ago I had a portentous dream about him as he looked when he was five: full grown, fit, healthy, and out of context of everything else. So it wasn't a surprise, but it's still a loss, a serious one.
Without a doubt, he was the sweetest, most devoted cat I've ever had the privilege to live with. We joked that he was a puppy cat, because his devotion to me was almost dog-like. Ever since I found him in the parking lot in 1992, it was clear that he was my cat, and trusted me completely. As a kitten, he tried to jump six feet from someone holding him to me (he never really liked being picked up by strangers), trusting/knowing that he'd make it somehow; of course, I rushed and caught him. When it would thunder loudly and suddenly, he'd beeline to me for protection. Built like a bulldog or tiny lion, he was a solid, stocky brute with the heart of a kitten and nothing but love for me.
It hurt, watching him decline, but it was also a spectacular kind of gift. Knowing that any moment could be the last made each one incredibly precious. I asked him to hold on as long as he could, and he beat all expectations, even mine. He was such a good kitty, and I'll miss him the rest of my life. I am so very thankful for the time we had together.
We got the word Thursday night, about 10:30 PM EST that Zevo passed away. It helps a lot to know he wasn't alone at the end; that had been my biggest fear since it became apparent just how loudly the clock was ticking. It wasn't a surprise, really. Our vet wasn't sure he would make it through the night two weeks ago, and a week ago I had a portentous dream about him as he looked when he was five: full grown, fit, healthy, and out of context of everything else. So it wasn't a surprise, but it's still a loss, a serious one.
Without a doubt, he was the sweetest, most devoted cat I've ever had the privilege to live with. We joked that he was a puppy cat, because his devotion to me was almost dog-like. Ever since I found him in the parking lot in 1992, it was clear that he was my cat, and trusted me completely. As a kitten, he tried to jump six feet from someone holding him to me (he never really liked being picked up by strangers), trusting/knowing that he'd make it somehow; of course, I rushed and caught him. When it would thunder loudly and suddenly, he'd beeline to me for protection. Built like a bulldog or tiny lion, he was a solid, stocky brute with the heart of a kitten and nothing but love for me.
It hurt, watching him decline, but it was also a spectacular kind of gift. Knowing that any moment could be the last made each one incredibly precious. I asked him to hold on as long as he could, and he beat all expectations, even mine. He was such a good kitty, and I'll miss him the rest of my life. I am so very thankful for the time we had together.
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He found it in him to purr after I fed him last week.
He was lucky to have you and Janiene, as well as his other companions.
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All my love to you, J, and the rest of the kitty tribe
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