Real life interlude: no 40k here and not for everyone

Ivan was the newest member of our animal family. He was the most laid back animal I ever had. He was a rescue from a local shelter. He had been relinquished as a kitten, and for an entire year all he knew was a room with nine other cats. During this time he developed an eye infection that lead to its eventual removal. 

Then one Sunday he met Manders and me. He instantly drew my attention, a one eyed cat. Awesome! Why awesome? The dude has one eye. He was Russian Blue-ish, with his good eye a deep gold color. Also awesome, dude has one golden eye.  I spent some time with him and noticed he seemed pretty calm. However, it was just a social visit and we left sans cat.

As the next week passed I kept thinking of that grey one eyed cat.  That Friday Manders went home and come Saturday morning I was back at the shelter. I just wanted to “check in” on that cat. I spent some time with just this guy. He was completely calm, I was shocked. Especially after all I was told about him. After twenty minutes I was hooked. I filled out the papers and was on my way home.

Jump ahead a few weeks.

We settled on the name Ivan. It just seemed fitting. We ran the gambit of bad puns: Snake Purrs-kin, Nick Furry, a few pirates (Willie a.k.a One Eyed Willie Goonies being a front runner) and other names dealing with one-eyed people.  Ivan sounded cool for his Russian blue color, one eye, and it sounded like a Bond villain (having one eye and the coloring of it). Yes I know GoldenEye was a Bond movie, and the only good Pierce Brosnan Bond.

He fit in great with our other crazies. He didn’t offend the dogs. He befriended most of the other cats; Olivia has angry control issues when it comes to her space. He never raised a paw toward any of our animals even when confronted with Olivia’s sound and fury. He became a helper in the kitchen, lying in front of the oven to make sure if things fell, they were his. He developed a knack of acquiring Q-tips from the bathroom cabinet. He would carry them around in his mouth like a cigar. He was a helper while trying to eat, play video games, paint models, sleep and get ready for work. Helping means becoming a ten pound lump of lap cat. He developed a love of all things string and would drag them throughout the house. He would even take them with him to eat. He was always eating food with a shoe string by the bowl. He was our calm collected giant man child of a cat; he was only a year old when I got him.

It crushed us when we were told he had FIPV, Feline Infectious Peritonitis Virus. He had begun to lose appetite, energy and weight. He was also was accumulating fluid in his abdomen. We took the clan in for their yearly check up and shots. It was at the vet we were told the cause and outcome for Ivan’s sudden change in health. The outcome is always the same with the version of FIP he has, you lose them. It broke Manders and even I was floored. I saved him from a life in the shelter just to lose him.

We brought him home and spoiled him until the end; chicken, roast beef, milk, cat nip, tuna. His last days he lived like a king. He was taken outside, a huge deal since are cats are insiders their entire lives. He experienced a world he would have never had a chance to see. Being outside perked him up and for a while he was his old self again. We knew it was fleeting,as he was never going to beat this.

Today it was time for him to go. The last day with him was too short.  Hell, the last week with him went too fast. It always seems too. He was never in pain, but was getting worse by the day. We let him go before it got too terrible. Nobody wants their animals to suffer and Ivan didn't. He got the best life we could give him. He truly lived here and not in some shelter.

He is gone and with him is a part of me and Manders.  

I know it is just another cat to many of you, they are very polarizing animals. Ivan was our gentle giant and pure awesomeness.

I don’t feel like 40K stuff is going to be up on my list for a while. I’ll get back to this in a bit.