Sheila & Beau GA & Jeddie GA
Member Since 2009
Fifteen years and one week ago I trapped a feral cat in Northern Michigan. I named him Beaumont after the fictional character, J.P. Beaumont in the J.A. Jance novels about a homicide detective in Seattle. The series is a favorite of mine and I happened to be reading one of the books the week Beau showed up in my life. I had no idea at the time how long it takes to socialize a feral cat (two years in this case), but I thought bringing him back to my one bedroom apartment in Chicago with my other two cats would be a good idea. I am still putting off having my head examined for that one.
The best thing about Beau and my time with him was his relationship with other cats. He was “cat” socialized by my cat Murphy and they became best friends, always grooming each other and cuddling. He turned his affections on Charlotte after Murphy died, but probably his best cat friend was a second diabetic I adopted, Jeddie, who, alas, was only with us a few short years. Beau was also affectionate with kittens I got six years ago, pre-Jeddie, but lost interest after Jeddie arrived. He tried to be friendly with Cami, the diabetic I adopted after Jeddie was gone, but she was having none of it. At that point he turned his attentions more fully on me and was in my lap every second as soon as I sat down. I know he missed Jeddie terribly.
I don’t want to define his life with heath issues, but he had more than his share. When Beau was three he was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy and given a 2 to 5 year prognosis. He also was diagnosed with chronic pancreatitis at the same time. The combo nearly killed him. Because of the pancreatitis the future always held the threat of diabetes and he was diagnosed with it at the age of eight – just as his life was supposed to expire from the cardiomyopathy. Luckily, I soon found FDMB* and got a crash course in treating feline diabetes. Beau’s luck turned when he went into diabetic remission after 2-1/2 years on insulin. I had changed his diet after six months, but it was a change to levemir that pushed him into remission where he stayed until late last year. Soon after getting off insulin came a diagnosis of hyperthyroid. He beat all these things, or lived well with them.
Then last year he started having twitches, jerks, stiff muscles and unsteadiness. A neurological exam indicated some pathology akin to human Parkinson’s. I elected to not spend the money on an MRI so what, exactly, was going on I will never know. We tried some medications and he had reactions to those. We tried pred and didn’t see much improvement. There is a possibility that he had a brain tumor or brain cancer and some of his later symptoms support that (leaning, listing, turning toward the right). Last March he developed an issue in his left eye that looked to be a tumor and he soon lost his vision in that eye. Within the last two weeks the right eye developed the same growth so I am sure he was blind at the end. Over the last week or so he got very unsteady and finally could not stand or sit up (the last day and a half).
The morning of his last day I held him upright and he ate almost a full bowl of food and drank water. He had chicken broth as a treat, but would not eat the chicken he had enjoyed the night before. It was time.
He was a fighter until the end. That heart that had caused me so much anxiety would have kept going. It wasn’t the cause of his passing any more than the diabetes was. It was the neurological disease that took him from me. I fought with him. I learned all I could to take care of his various ills, and we overcame most of them. They just kept coming. It was like in LOST when Desmond tells Charlie, after saving his life multiple times, “No matter what I do, you’re going to die, Charlie.”
I am so wrapped up in the last year of ill health and the patterns he established that it is hard to remember the very core of his cat-ness. Beau was a special cat. He was brave and trusting. Even when he ran from me and lived under my dining room table for the first two years a part of him trusted me. He slept on my bed every night from the very first (running away if I moved in the beginning) until the last six months or so when he could no longer get up on his own and would fall getting down. He never did a naughty thing in his life, on purpose, and I can’t remember why one of his nick-names was Naughty Man. Another nick-name was Crunchy Man. He loved his dry food, but it made him diabetic before I knew any better than to feed it to my cats. Beau cared, or tried to care for, all my other cats. I have dozens of pictures of him cuddling with or grooming them. Nothing is sweeter than two, or more, cats curled up together.
Beau was a funny guy. He’d get a goofy look on his face that was half curiosity and half trepidation over any new thing in his environment. He loved toys, especially catnip ones, often shredding then within hours. He “killed” Da Bird feather toy because he took it too seriously. He chased his tail between his legs doing summersaults trying to catch it. He loved potato chips and peanut butter – and chicken, steak and salmon, of course. He loved those pop-up nylon cubes and burrowing into the covers in the winter. He loved my balcony and would sit out there for hours watching the birds and squirrels in the trees. I am so glad he had that for the last 11 years, although this year he only went out there once and I think it was by mistake. He did sit in front of the open sliding doors up in MI this past June enjoying the breeze and sounds and smells. He loved it up there. It was where I found him and I made the trip up with all my cats twice a year. We were just there last week, but I don’t know how aware he was of it. I did see him sleeping in a sun spot in the dining room one afternoon. He looked content and ‘purposeful’ as if it was by intention and not just where he happened to slide into sleep in his aimless wandering.
I knew he couldn’t live forever and I had eight extra years with him, but I can’t help but feel that without even one of the many health issues, especially the last one, he might have lived another couple of years happy and content.
Beau came to me in the fall and left me in the fall. That seems fitting. He will be missed and I have a big hole in my heart right now.
(*I am eternally grateful to all of you who taught me what you know, held my hand in the beginning, walked this journey with me, learned from my experience and cared for your own FD(s), and sent prayers and good wishes yesterday and back when Jeddie was losing his battle with cancer. There are no kinder and nicer people anywhere on earth. Many that I would wish to thank are no longer here on a regular basis, unfortunately, so I send my thanks out to the Universe on their behalf. ((((Cyber hugs)))) to you all.)
One of the first photos of Beau
His first love, Murphy
With his cuddle buddy, Jeddie
One of the few photos of the two of us
The last good photo of him
and one of my favorite photos of him
The best thing about Beau and my time with him was his relationship with other cats. He was “cat” socialized by my cat Murphy and they became best friends, always grooming each other and cuddling. He turned his affections on Charlotte after Murphy died, but probably his best cat friend was a second diabetic I adopted, Jeddie, who, alas, was only with us a few short years. Beau was also affectionate with kittens I got six years ago, pre-Jeddie, but lost interest after Jeddie arrived. He tried to be friendly with Cami, the diabetic I adopted after Jeddie was gone, but she was having none of it. At that point he turned his attentions more fully on me and was in my lap every second as soon as I sat down. I know he missed Jeddie terribly.
I don’t want to define his life with heath issues, but he had more than his share. When Beau was three he was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy and given a 2 to 5 year prognosis. He also was diagnosed with chronic pancreatitis at the same time. The combo nearly killed him. Because of the pancreatitis the future always held the threat of diabetes and he was diagnosed with it at the age of eight – just as his life was supposed to expire from the cardiomyopathy. Luckily, I soon found FDMB* and got a crash course in treating feline diabetes. Beau’s luck turned when he went into diabetic remission after 2-1/2 years on insulin. I had changed his diet after six months, but it was a change to levemir that pushed him into remission where he stayed until late last year. Soon after getting off insulin came a diagnosis of hyperthyroid. He beat all these things, or lived well with them.
Then last year he started having twitches, jerks, stiff muscles and unsteadiness. A neurological exam indicated some pathology akin to human Parkinson’s. I elected to not spend the money on an MRI so what, exactly, was going on I will never know. We tried some medications and he had reactions to those. We tried pred and didn’t see much improvement. There is a possibility that he had a brain tumor or brain cancer and some of his later symptoms support that (leaning, listing, turning toward the right). Last March he developed an issue in his left eye that looked to be a tumor and he soon lost his vision in that eye. Within the last two weeks the right eye developed the same growth so I am sure he was blind at the end. Over the last week or so he got very unsteady and finally could not stand or sit up (the last day and a half).
The morning of his last day I held him upright and he ate almost a full bowl of food and drank water. He had chicken broth as a treat, but would not eat the chicken he had enjoyed the night before. It was time.
He was a fighter until the end. That heart that had caused me so much anxiety would have kept going. It wasn’t the cause of his passing any more than the diabetes was. It was the neurological disease that took him from me. I fought with him. I learned all I could to take care of his various ills, and we overcame most of them. They just kept coming. It was like in LOST when Desmond tells Charlie, after saving his life multiple times, “No matter what I do, you’re going to die, Charlie.”
I am so wrapped up in the last year of ill health and the patterns he established that it is hard to remember the very core of his cat-ness. Beau was a special cat. He was brave and trusting. Even when he ran from me and lived under my dining room table for the first two years a part of him trusted me. He slept on my bed every night from the very first (running away if I moved in the beginning) until the last six months or so when he could no longer get up on his own and would fall getting down. He never did a naughty thing in his life, on purpose, and I can’t remember why one of his nick-names was Naughty Man. Another nick-name was Crunchy Man. He loved his dry food, but it made him diabetic before I knew any better than to feed it to my cats. Beau cared, or tried to care for, all my other cats. I have dozens of pictures of him cuddling with or grooming them. Nothing is sweeter than two, or more, cats curled up together.
Beau was a funny guy. He’d get a goofy look on his face that was half curiosity and half trepidation over any new thing in his environment. He loved toys, especially catnip ones, often shredding then within hours. He “killed” Da Bird feather toy because he took it too seriously. He chased his tail between his legs doing summersaults trying to catch it. He loved potato chips and peanut butter – and chicken, steak and salmon, of course. He loved those pop-up nylon cubes and burrowing into the covers in the winter. He loved my balcony and would sit out there for hours watching the birds and squirrels in the trees. I am so glad he had that for the last 11 years, although this year he only went out there once and I think it was by mistake. He did sit in front of the open sliding doors up in MI this past June enjoying the breeze and sounds and smells. He loved it up there. It was where I found him and I made the trip up with all my cats twice a year. We were just there last week, but I don’t know how aware he was of it. I did see him sleeping in a sun spot in the dining room one afternoon. He looked content and ‘purposeful’ as if it was by intention and not just where he happened to slide into sleep in his aimless wandering.
I knew he couldn’t live forever and I had eight extra years with him, but I can’t help but feel that without even one of the many health issues, especially the last one, he might have lived another couple of years happy and content.
Beau came to me in the fall and left me in the fall. That seems fitting. He will be missed and I have a big hole in my heart right now.
(*I am eternally grateful to all of you who taught me what you know, held my hand in the beginning, walked this journey with me, learned from my experience and cared for your own FD(s), and sent prayers and good wishes yesterday and back when Jeddie was losing his battle with cancer. There are no kinder and nicer people anywhere on earth. Many that I would wish to thank are no longer here on a regular basis, unfortunately, so I send my thanks out to the Universe on their behalf. ((((Cyber hugs)))) to you all.)
One of the first photos of Beau
His first love, Murphy
With his cuddle buddy, Jeddie
One of the few photos of the two of us
The last good photo of him
and one of my favorite photos of him
