Preston de Guise on Nostr: This afternoon we made the sad but necessary choice to say goodbye to Cino. At over ...
This afternoon we made the sad but necessary choice to say goodbye to Cino. At over 19 and a half, he’s been an absolute little trooper. When we said goodbye to Stitch all those years ago we weren’t sure whether Cino would be with us for much longer, but he kept on keeping on for years.
He was the most adorable little boy. Loving and mercenary, funny and obnoxious, all of those things and more wrapped up in a brown furry package. Easily the most wilful animal either of us have ever known. If he didn’t want to do something, your chances of making him do it were next to nil.
And yet like Stitch, he was remarkably placid. We hear horror stories all the time of people unable to trim their cats claws, or giving them a tablet requiring a trip to the vet. Cino would purr when he’d get a claw trim, and in the end he was getting five tablets a day with very little fuss. Sure, he didn’t like the experience, but he just trusted us implicitly.
The last six months though he’s been slowing down – a lot. Pain management from spinal degradation has been getting more challenging (hence those tablets), and he was pretty much on the maximum painkiller dose. He also struggled all the time to get around; walking from one side of the lounge room was a slow, plodding thing for him. If he wasn’t completely deaf, he was pretty damn close. But he still gave us joy, and found joy from us. We’d pick him up and he’d nuzzle our faces; he’d slow-blink us regularly and sometimes just looking at him from across the room was enough to have him start purring.
But this month has been really difficult for him, and after a new issue today we had to make the call. The hardest call but also the most important call a pet owner can make.
So tonight we raise a glass and toast to Cino. Pronounced like the tail-end of the word cappuccino, based on his original colouring which was like the milk froth on a coffee. And a little man of many nicknames, including Fangs McGraw, Sir Shouts-a-Lot, Monster, Lubbie (Lovie + Bubby) and most recently, Slubbie, a terrible portmanteau “lubbie” and “sweetie” that slipped out one night when my speech impediment came out to play. Given his increasing deafness, maybe he never heard Slubbie, but he was indeed our little Slubbie amongst all those other names.
Goodnight, Cino.
He was the most adorable little boy. Loving and mercenary, funny and obnoxious, all of those things and more wrapped up in a brown furry package. Easily the most wilful animal either of us have ever known. If he didn’t want to do something, your chances of making him do it were next to nil.
And yet like Stitch, he was remarkably placid. We hear horror stories all the time of people unable to trim their cats claws, or giving them a tablet requiring a trip to the vet. Cino would purr when he’d get a claw trim, and in the end he was getting five tablets a day with very little fuss. Sure, he didn’t like the experience, but he just trusted us implicitly.
The last six months though he’s been slowing down – a lot. Pain management from spinal degradation has been getting more challenging (hence those tablets), and he was pretty much on the maximum painkiller dose. He also struggled all the time to get around; walking from one side of the lounge room was a slow, plodding thing for him. If he wasn’t completely deaf, he was pretty damn close. But he still gave us joy, and found joy from us. We’d pick him up and he’d nuzzle our faces; he’d slow-blink us regularly and sometimes just looking at him from across the room was enough to have him start purring.
But this month has been really difficult for him, and after a new issue today we had to make the call. The hardest call but also the most important call a pet owner can make.
So tonight we raise a glass and toast to Cino. Pronounced like the tail-end of the word cappuccino, based on his original colouring which was like the milk froth on a coffee. And a little man of many nicknames, including Fangs McGraw, Sir Shouts-a-Lot, Monster, Lubbie (Lovie + Bubby) and most recently, Slubbie, a terrible portmanteau “lubbie” and “sweetie” that slipped out one night when my speech impediment came out to play. Given his increasing deafness, maybe he never heard Slubbie, but he was indeed our little Slubbie amongst all those other names.
Goodnight, Cino.