I can’t take credit for the name, like his brother Cat Stevens, he was named by a good friend of mine Curt. That friend was the original owner, a dude I was rooming with a long time ago in a house deep in the heart of what I like to call the suburban ghetto.

In the Spring of 2001, in a far simpler time, a litter of cats was born. Among them was Nelson and Cat. Originally Curt was only supposed to take one kitten from the litter, but apparently the boys were inseparable. The first time I met them, they were likely a few months old sticking their heads through the blinds at his house.

A simpler time

Unfortunately, there exists no pictures of them as kittens. We lived in a bachelor pad in the days prior to cellphone cameras. Even one of those temporary cameras were used only in drunken escapades. Like all kittens, he was cute. Cute, but skittish. Compared to his brother, Nelson wasn’t the popular one among our friends. His brother Cat was a lap whore, Nelson on the other hand had to smell your hand before he even let you touch him.

It was due to this that he and I had an early bond.

Those days were filled with drinking and loud arguments about what the best movie sequel happened to be. Through it all the boys were always under foot. They were never spared a moment without being pet or given our laps as a warm bed. Nelson’s favorite thing to do, while he was small enough, was to lay down on the top of the back of my chair while I was at my computer. When he was bigger, I consciously purchased a chair with a cushion big enough for him to lay on. He was like a purring fur pillow to rest my head on while I waited for a game to load.

Even as a kid, Nelson was a gentle soul. When playing he never used his claws only batting at your hand under the sheets.

He was consciously regal. He would take the time to adjust his tail just so and stare outside to look at the birds with perfect posture.

He also had one of the most annoying meows of any cat I’ve ever heard.

Lost for a time

The boys have been inside only cats their whole lives. One day, when they still had their balls, Nelson got outside and bolted his instincts taking over. We went out with flashlights looking for him, but he was gone.

Days went by. As a rarely stressed person, the situation kept me up nights. I drove around looking for any sign, but there was none.

Curt and I mourned him, he was gone. This wasn’t the first pet I had lost to the outside world, and it was primarily the reason why I’ll only ever have inside cats.

After I had given up all hope, I was awakened in the early morning by the sound of the boys fighting with each other. Apparently Curt found him sleeping under one of our cars. He just walked up and grabbed him.

I remember quite well that both the boys had their balls for too long. We were too broke to get the procedure done, and didn’t know the humane society had programs for cheap fixing. Nelson, well… he constantly mounted his brother on the regular. I think if Cat could remember he would call this a dark time. After Nelson came back from his excursion, it was obvious something had awoken the animal inside and the attacks on his brother got worse.

One night after his return, he came up on the bed and literally sprayed me. I was angry, but damnit look at how cute he was. I started laughing about it immediately, I mean who can say that their cat sprayed them while they were in bed?

Mostly due to this, we found the humane society and took care of the boy’s boys. Thus ended the chapter and Cat’s dark times.

Leaving home and finding home

I had long overstayed my welcome at Curt’s house after he had married, and his new wife wasn’t a cat person through no fault of her own. It was clear that the boys and I were on borrowed time.

Finally, an opportunity to room up with a co-worker came along. When I told Curt I was leaving I was about to ask if I could take the boys when he asked first beating me to the punch. I knew and he knew, and that was that.

The first night at the new house was stressful, the boys had never been anywhere else. In the middle of the first night one of the cats crawled under the covers and curled up between my legs. I figured it was Cat, but reaching down and feeling the fluffy tail I discovered a Nelson.

The poor guy stayed under the covers for a few weeks. He would only come out at night to eat and poop right next to the litter. During that time our bond grew stronger.

We had a good time in our short stay here before I met my future wife, but it was here that I discovered his urination issue with carpet. I figured at first that it was simply the stress of the move. Three homes with carpet later, we finally learned the magic of hardwood floors to get him to pee in the right place (most of the time).

Over the next few years we moved once per year, finally moving in with my future wife, Rachel, her cat Puma, as well as finding a place we can call home for a while.

It’s a lion!

Being a longhair, and a boy that never really groomed, he was constantly having problems in the Spring with his fur becoming natty.

Much to Rachel’s chagrin, while Nelson was sleeping in the crook of my arm each night, I would pull the dead hair out. Nelson didn’t like it of course, and would only take so much before he left… but he would always come back.

Rachel finally convinced me to get him shaved for the Summer. We, of course, had to get the lion cut. He looked absolutely hilarious.

I chased him around our place yelling out “It’s a lion!” and he would look at me like I was crazy… because I was.

Nelson would normally ask permission to jump up on the bed or up on my chair by announcing himself with his annoying meow. I remember, because he was so insistent and annoying, being annoyed. A lot of times I would kick him off or shoo him away. When he had his lion cut, he was so soft and fuzzy I had to partake in the petting of the Nelson each time he asked for it.

Of course in his later years I would rue the days of me being annoyed with him and not letting him fall asleep purring at my side.

One last move

When an opportunity to move into the bay area gave itself to me, I took it and moved Nelson one last time. We found a great place with hardwoods that was large enough for everyone to spread their wings. It had full wall sliding windows on one side so the kids could look outside and watch the birds or the traffic going by.

We got into a daily routine, one that I’ll miss. Nelson is right there waiting when my alarm goes off if he didn’t sleep at my side all night. He would lead me into the bathroom where I'd sit on the toilet and pet him even if I didn’t have to. Strangely, he would walk around banging his head into things as a way of showing his contentedness. Once that was done he, and the other kids, would lead me into the kitchen where food would be divvied up. I would go to my computer, and after eating, Nelson would hop up either on my lap or sit next to the keyboard on my desk. Before he got sick, he would normally also knead on my belly, which is currently quite kneadable. This was repeated upon coming home from work. In bed, he would normally hop up and let me pet him until he had enough and either moved just out of arms reach, or went off to sleep elsewhere.

He’s always loved fresh water, he would meow his annoying meow more excitedly for me turning on the tap than popping open a can of food. In the last year he developed a strange desire to only want water out of cups. Our house at one point resembled the house from ‘Signs’ with glasses littered throughout.

We tried

Half a year ago, Nelson started losing weight. At first, possibly, we thought it was stress from the move. Our first trip to the vet was dire, he went from 17 to 9 pounds. Blood tests were ordered, and again after nothing was conclusive. A third time to triple check the thyroid.

Finally, after he lost yet another precious pound, an ultrasound was ordered. It was really the worst case: nothing conclusive. He had some plump lymph nodes, but nothing out of control. The wall lining to his intestines were also inflamed. Since we knew we weren’t going to put him through surgery to find out for sure if it was truly cancer, we went for the option of treating him for inflammatory bowel disease.

Either he would get better, or not… and we would know.

With a special diet, no small feat with three cats, and medication twice per day we started a long slog to try and combat whatever was wrong. Nelson’s demeanor changed, partly I’m sure, because of the twice a day two shots of liquid down his throat.

At first he stabilized, and even gained a few ounces. But over a few months, we noticed him becoming more weak, and even more skinny even though we didn’t think it possible. His strength was sapped, he had difficulty getting up on things he could easily clear before. We took him off his medication so at least he could have some solace from that.

There were good days and bad. Sometimes we thought he could pass at any moment and made arrangements, but then the next day he would be his chipper self again.

He had diarrhea regularly, sometimes with vomit, and then back to normal again. This roller coaster continued for months.

Through it all, even though he wasn’t feeling well and was incredibly weak, he was the same gentle soul I’ve always known. Even if it was buried deep under a cloud of constant hunger.

Dr. Vanessa

We knew from the beginning that we needed to have Nelson’s final moments here at home. We couldn’t begin to think of bringing him in to the vet that last time. His last hour would be filled with fear and anxiety.

For over two months of close calls and highs and lows, Dr. Vanessa Wensing has held my hand and been ready to come whenever we were ready. She answered medical questions another vet would have charged an appointment for. She truly is meant to do this incredibly difficult work.

The procedure itself took place in the comfort of our bed. It was beautifully calm and he passed peacefully.

In the end

We still don’t know exactly what happened to him, only assumptions can be made. Perhaps it was a slow-acting cancer of the intestines. This would explain his body not retaining any calories and the constant diarrhea.

To us, it doesn’t matter what it was, only that he was ready. His last day went about as all the rest. I took care to make sure all the steps were done properly. He even got a last meal of chopped up fresh turkey breast.

He rested through the day in the bathroom on the mat, his favorite place these days. It was quiet, dark and cool, but mostly because it was quiet. He graced me with a quick nap on the bed, like he used to. It was a special moment.

We had a good day.

I will miss his annoying meow and our routine. I’ll miss him falling asleep at my side. The end and all the sadness I feel now is a small price to pay for the 13 years he gave me. I can look back at all of them and smile.