I'm presenting an overdue series. Honestly, I cry when reading this story about my friend, Alex. It details my unashamed love for him.
It will help you know me from a different angle.
He grabbed my heart as it never has been, before or since, and en-hanced it as I never imagined. I hope you enjoy reading about my friend as much as I did, creating this memorial of a heart-warming season in my life.
Alex, the cat on the left, let me have a relationship with him. A profound, silent, and rare experi-ence. A privilege to know him.
Our relationship will be cherished forever.
Chapter One: Alexander the Grey(t) April 2011
You want to know about me, you say? Okay, I'll share my friendship with a furry, curmudgeonly crepuscular critter. Pull up a seat.
Alexander and I hang out. He's a dying, fifteen-and-a-half-year-old cat. I'm a positive guy who fell in love with a sassy feline.
He has gone from heavy to thin: now but five pounds. When our love relationship started five-and-a-half years ago, he weighed 22.5 lbs. (10.2 kg). Yes, my!
When we first met, he acted like a Fat Cat. He would push through the crowd when strolling among mere humans. People seeing him would declare, "Look at his size!!" My initial thoughts were, "He'd at least make twenty tamales."
When we first met, he acted like a Fat Cat. He would push through the crowd when strolling among mere humans. People seeing him would declare, "Look at his size!!" My initial thoughts were, "He'd at least make twenty tamales."
If I could only get him alone, in a back alley.
No, he does not belong to me. But he took a shining to me. It started with a special massage I gave him. My friends with cats know my unique massage.
I pull on the loose skin where his ear attaches along the side of his head. He loves it. I would have to do it for hours if he had his way.
No, he does not belong to me. But he took a shining to me. It started with a special massage I gave him. My friends with cats know my unique massage.
I pull on the loose skin where his ear attaches along the side of his head. He loves it. I would have to do it for hours if he had his way.
This cat's serious mug as we go through this ritual belies Alex's pleasure when we connect this way.
His breed connects and demonstrates loyalty to one person. His owner remains disappointed he's chosen to put in his lot with me, but that's life. Now, whenever I drop by his place----that he shares with his feeder----he jumps up, sort of, eventually laying by my side, pressed up against me.
It tugs at my heart Alex's efforts when he greets me. When not around, he doesn't budge from his perch on his cat pillow topped with an electrically heated blanket. (Did I tell you he enjoyed being spoiled?) He just lays on his side, one paw dangling over the side of his cushion.
Alex can't walk much; he'll take four or five steps, then lay on his side. The muscles of his hind legs are giving out; they no longer are nourished. Nowadays, Mr. Grey does not eat much.
His breed connects and demonstrates loyalty to one person. His owner remains disappointed he's chosen to put in his lot with me, but that's life. Now, whenever I drop by his place----that he shares with his feeder----he jumps up, sort of, eventually laying by my side, pressed up against me.
It tugs at my heart Alex's efforts when he greets me. When not around, he doesn't budge from his perch on his cat pillow topped with an electrically heated blanket. (Did I tell you he enjoyed being spoiled?) He just lays on his side, one paw dangling over the side of his cushion.
Alex can't walk much; he'll take four or five steps, then lay on his side. The muscles of his hind legs are giving out; they no longer are nourished. Nowadays, Mr. Grey does not eat much.
In January, the vet gave him three months to live. He's not ready to go----yet. Something tells me he's sticking around for my birthday at the end of May.
He gets shots of famotidine and Pepcid for indigestion and clindamycin for a cryptococ-cal fungus infection that has traveled to his nose, making it difficult for Alexander to breathe. He takes Baytril for herpes. Intravenously, twice daily, he's received fluids due to renal failure for over two years.
Yet, he's a regal-looking cat that gives looks that can still kill. Even in his enfeebled condition, Alex stares down other cats. They slink away, even though they weigh three times more than him.
Startling to discover Russians once hunted them at Archangel Island, their original homeland, one hundred and fifty miles from the Arctic Circle. They were prized for their double insulated, seal-like fur.
We have a routine. When I drop by, this Russian Blue rises from his death bed. Slowly, deliberately----with each step, there's the possibility he may fall---Mr. Grey walks towards me. His efforts are labored.
Alexander the Grey(t) cannot jump up on the living room sofa. He wants to sit next to me. His rear legs lack the strength to jump. He ends up stuck on the edge of the couch, his head, two paws, and his upper body resting on the seat.
By his bottom, I pull up Mr. Grey. He snuggles his sickness-ravaged body against my right thigh. Against me, this pure grey silvery-tipped feline rests his now-boney butt.
It tugs at my heart seeing this cat pouring out his last full measures of affection. His breed is not vocal. But he certainly communicates that he owns me. He does---he's won my heart.
I'm thankful for simple pleasures. I'm humbled by the connection Alex-ander and I share and the kindness he demonstrates towards me.
 |
| Alexander the Grey(t) on a good day. |
Yet, he's a regal-looking cat that gives looks that can still kill. Even in his enfeebled condition, Alex stares down other cats. They slink away, even though they weigh three times more than him.
Startling to discover Russians once hunted them at Archangel Island, their original homeland, one hundred and fifty miles from the Arctic Circle. They were prized for their double insulated, seal-like fur.
 |
| Alexander's ancestral home: that red island. |
We have a routine. When I drop by, this Russian Blue rises from his death bed. Slowly, deliberately----with each step, there's the possibility he may fall---Mr. Grey walks towards me. His efforts are labored.
Alexander the Grey(t) cannot jump up on the living room sofa. He wants to sit next to me. His rear legs lack the strength to jump. He ends up stuck on the edge of the couch, his head, two paws, and his upper body resting on the seat.
By his bottom, I pull up Mr. Grey. He snuggles his sickness-ravaged body against my right thigh. Against me, this pure grey silvery-tipped feline rests his now-boney butt.
It tugs at my heart seeing this cat pouring out his last full measures of affection. His breed is not vocal. But he certainly communicates that he owns me. He does---he's won my heart.
I'm thankful for simple pleasures. I'm humbled by the connection Alex-ander and I share and the kindness he demonstrates towards me.
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