lyndxe
Lairian
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2011
- Messages
- 121
- Points
- 56
I haven't posted in here a while. I first began posting last year, about bringing my boy Iggy to live with me in the Czech Republic.
Everything was great, he adjusted perfectly after the 6,000 mile journey and quickly won over all of our friends with his charming personality and overt friendliness. My husband, never an animal person, ended up loving Iggy beyond what he thought was possible, and they bonded so intuitively. We both travel frequently, but usually one of us was always home with him.
In September, we decided to come to the US to spend time with family and work, and for my husband to get an idea if he wanted to possibly move there. We decided to put Iggy in a cat hotel for 2 months while we figured everything out. I went out on tour working for a band, and was making enough money to support myself for a decent while so I could stay home and work on my other projects.
After much searching, we found a good hotel with nice people who had never met a Sphynx before, but more than willing to accommodate our requirements and meet all of Iggy's needs. Everything was going great, but I missed him so much. We called all the time to ask about him, and anytime I spotted a neat boutique pet store, I went in and got a treat for Iggs. Some new sweaters. A few toys I knew he would LOVE (I'd long since figured out his preferences in the toy department - anything that makes a noise and has feathers or sparkles was guaranteed to be a winner. Or the "ouchless" hair ties he was always stealing from me). Natural supplements. Treats. By the end of our trip, half my suitcase was filled with "Iggy stuff." All my friends and family, many of whom are "Iggy fanatics" and "like" or comment on every picture I posted of him, we're asking how he was, and I talked them all about how much I missed him. My husband and I talked about him, wondering if he was okay and happy. We both couldn't wait to get home to him and just snuggle in bed all day with Iggy after so much traveling.
November 20th, I boarded my plane form Seattle, where I had been taking care of my mom and staying with friends, to go home to my Iggy. I wore my "Iggy pin" that one of my best friends had made for me (an ink drawing of a photo I had taken of Iggy made into a cute button I could wear), and I was so excited to be going home to my boy. My husband was leaving for work in South America, and wouldn't be home until December, but I told him it would be fine because Iggy and I were just going to hang out at home and be waiting when he came home in a month.
I landed in LAX, for my connecting flight. As soon as we touched down, I turned on my phone to check my email. And that's when I saw it. An email from the cat hotel.
Iggy had died suddenly in the middle of the night. November 20th, 2012. The day before I was supposed to arrive to take him home.
I burst into tears in front of a hundred strangers, but I didn't care. I was just going home to him. It couldn't be real. This was a joke.
But it wasn't. I called my husband, sobbing uncontrollably, and he thankfully picked up. His flight hadn't left yet. He asked what as wrong, and I told him. He just said "Oh no" in the saddest voice possible, a tone I'd never heard before.
He called the cat hotel, and spoke with the people (an elderly couple who are only Czech speakers). They were in a state of shock and, between tears, described what had happened.
He had been playing with them, jumping and being Iggy, when suddenly he lost his balance, fell over and started having a seizure. The veterinarian had his office next door. By the time they ran there, he was gone.
The vet did an examination upon his death, noticing his tongue was blue, which led him to believe he had suffered from heart failure.
We were gutted.
I wandered through LAX to my connecting flight, visibly upset and unable to hide or control my tears (despite a pocket full of overpriced tissues I'd just purchased and my oversized sunglasses). I cried intensely and often for the next 24 hours as I made my way home.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to die. Not like this. Not without me there for him.
My friend picked me up after my flight arrived to immediately take me to the cat hotel and collect Iggy's remains and transport him to the cremation place. We declined an autopsy, in order to preserve him and take him for cremation (the vet said if we opted for autopsy, he couldn't give us the remains). I needed to have them and see him one last time.
I picked up his things, packing them in the car, and the elderly couple, sobbing, handed me his frozen body, covered and wrapped in a plastic bag. They were so devastated, also crying, showing me their bedroom where he had been sleeping with them for the past month. There were still some small dirt patches where he had been sleeping under their covers. They were so taken in by him that they had brought him to their own home since it was getting colder, and they were afraid he was lonely. I was so comforted to know he had been surrounded by love when it happened, and he wasn't alone. I don't think he would've wanted to die alone, it just wasn't his personality type.
I got in the car and set him on my lap. I could feel his familiar weight. I wrapped him in his favorite fuzzy blanket because I knew he didn't like to be cold. He loved being wrapped up in a "cat burrito." I rode in the car, nearly silent the whole 30 minutes to the crematorium. I started petting him, and scratched him where I could feel his forehead was, I didn't need to see his body to figure it out. He was frozen stiff, but I knew it was him.
While my friend drove us, I cried, but felt overwhelmingly at peace. I was going to take care of Iggy one last time, all the way to the end. This was my goodbye to my best friend.
At the crematorium, I filled out the paperwork and picked out a beautiful urn from their huge selection. One that immediately said "Iggy" to me. My friend agreed that that was the urn to choose. The people were so nice and caring, having come in after hours to meet me and set up his cremation. They made all the arrangements, saying his cremains would be ready by tomorrow afternoon. They totally respected and agreed to my wish of removing the plastic covering him, but wrapping him back in his favorite blanket and cremating him like that.. I asked for a few minutes alone with him to say goodbye.
I got down on my knees (I had set him on a stool), and pulled the blanket off where I knew his head was, and pulled the opaque plastic bag for my first look at his lifeless body. My heart sank even further. It was him. Fuzzy white nose, rounded ears, and blue mustache and all. My little boy. My Igloo. My Iggy Piggy.
I started crying harder, and covered him again, letting my tears fall on the blanket I had wrapped him in. I told him how loved he was, and that I knew he knew that. That there was such a hole in my heart, and that I missed him so dearly. That he was the best friend I'd ever had, human or otherwise. That I was so sorry I hadn't been there, and that I had left him, but that I hoped he had remembered that I was coming back for him, I always came back for him. That he was so loved by so many people. From musicians to religious people to metal heads to kids,he touched so many lives and showed so many people how "ugly" could be not only "cute" but beautiful, unique, amazing, and incredible. That he taught me so much in the six years we had been together. That he took me from a scared, single 20 year old kid in Los Angeles to a married woman living in Europe. And he was there every step of the way with me. I told him that even if he had lived to be 100 years, it wouldn't have been enough. I told him I had tried so hard to give him a good life, and I hoped he had been happy on his time here. I told him how much I loved him and kissed the blanket covering his head. Then I said the hardest goodbye I have ever said in my life.
I cried again when I got home. The house was still filled with his reminders. The speaker covers shredded from marking (we never minded much), his cat tree, the bowl and placemat in the kitchen, on the floor. It took me a long time to stop crying and fall asleep. The bed was so empty without him sleeping next to/on me.
I picked his cremains up this afternoon. It was so sad, but so beautiful to see the urn, so classy and subtle, sophisticated and charming, just like him. they had made a small plaque, with his name, date of birth, and date of death, for the urn, which was a dark, coffee color, highly glossed with a few brushed silver and gold cat paw prints going up the front and to the lid of the urn. I counted 6 in all, one for each year of his life. I asked if that was intentional, they said no, it had been the manufactured design. I couldn't help but smile at the amazing coincidence.
The ride home was the best I have felt since I found out about his passing. I felt at peace, ready to take my boy home, where he belonged. His last journey.
I lit a small candle and set him on the shelf where he used to crawl up to catch the sun. I told him he was home now, and he would always be in our hearts, no matter what, and will never, ever be forgotten for as long as I live. It felt so good to finally have him home.
Goodbye, my little boy. I love you SO MUCH. You were incredible, and amazing, unique and funny, silly and smart. My life was forever changed because of you. I am so glad you chose to spend yours with me, and share your beautiful soul with everyone who knew you.
I'll miss you so very, very much.
Iggy
*08.09.2006 - +11.20.2012
Everything was great, he adjusted perfectly after the 6,000 mile journey and quickly won over all of our friends with his charming personality and overt friendliness. My husband, never an animal person, ended up loving Iggy beyond what he thought was possible, and they bonded so intuitively. We both travel frequently, but usually one of us was always home with him.
In September, we decided to come to the US to spend time with family and work, and for my husband to get an idea if he wanted to possibly move there. We decided to put Iggy in a cat hotel for 2 months while we figured everything out. I went out on tour working for a band, and was making enough money to support myself for a decent while so I could stay home and work on my other projects.
After much searching, we found a good hotel with nice people who had never met a Sphynx before, but more than willing to accommodate our requirements and meet all of Iggy's needs. Everything was going great, but I missed him so much. We called all the time to ask about him, and anytime I spotted a neat boutique pet store, I went in and got a treat for Iggs. Some new sweaters. A few toys I knew he would LOVE (I'd long since figured out his preferences in the toy department - anything that makes a noise and has feathers or sparkles was guaranteed to be a winner. Or the "ouchless" hair ties he was always stealing from me). Natural supplements. Treats. By the end of our trip, half my suitcase was filled with "Iggy stuff." All my friends and family, many of whom are "Iggy fanatics" and "like" or comment on every picture I posted of him, we're asking how he was, and I talked them all about how much I missed him. My husband and I talked about him, wondering if he was okay and happy. We both couldn't wait to get home to him and just snuggle in bed all day with Iggy after so much traveling.
November 20th, I boarded my plane form Seattle, where I had been taking care of my mom and staying with friends, to go home to my Iggy. I wore my "Iggy pin" that one of my best friends had made for me (an ink drawing of a photo I had taken of Iggy made into a cute button I could wear), and I was so excited to be going home to my boy. My husband was leaving for work in South America, and wouldn't be home until December, but I told him it would be fine because Iggy and I were just going to hang out at home and be waiting when he came home in a month.
I landed in LAX, for my connecting flight. As soon as we touched down, I turned on my phone to check my email. And that's when I saw it. An email from the cat hotel.
Iggy had died suddenly in the middle of the night. November 20th, 2012. The day before I was supposed to arrive to take him home.
I burst into tears in front of a hundred strangers, but I didn't care. I was just going home to him. It couldn't be real. This was a joke.
But it wasn't. I called my husband, sobbing uncontrollably, and he thankfully picked up. His flight hadn't left yet. He asked what as wrong, and I told him. He just said "Oh no" in the saddest voice possible, a tone I'd never heard before.
He called the cat hotel, and spoke with the people (an elderly couple who are only Czech speakers). They were in a state of shock and, between tears, described what had happened.
He had been playing with them, jumping and being Iggy, when suddenly he lost his balance, fell over and started having a seizure. The veterinarian had his office next door. By the time they ran there, he was gone.
The vet did an examination upon his death, noticing his tongue was blue, which led him to believe he had suffered from heart failure.
We were gutted.
I wandered through LAX to my connecting flight, visibly upset and unable to hide or control my tears (despite a pocket full of overpriced tissues I'd just purchased and my oversized sunglasses). I cried intensely and often for the next 24 hours as I made my way home.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to die. Not like this. Not without me there for him.
My friend picked me up after my flight arrived to immediately take me to the cat hotel and collect Iggy's remains and transport him to the cremation place. We declined an autopsy, in order to preserve him and take him for cremation (the vet said if we opted for autopsy, he couldn't give us the remains). I needed to have them and see him one last time.
I picked up his things, packing them in the car, and the elderly couple, sobbing, handed me his frozen body, covered and wrapped in a plastic bag. They were so devastated, also crying, showing me their bedroom where he had been sleeping with them for the past month. There were still some small dirt patches where he had been sleeping under their covers. They were so taken in by him that they had brought him to their own home since it was getting colder, and they were afraid he was lonely. I was so comforted to know he had been surrounded by love when it happened, and he wasn't alone. I don't think he would've wanted to die alone, it just wasn't his personality type.
I got in the car and set him on my lap. I could feel his familiar weight. I wrapped him in his favorite fuzzy blanket because I knew he didn't like to be cold. He loved being wrapped up in a "cat burrito." I rode in the car, nearly silent the whole 30 minutes to the crematorium. I started petting him, and scratched him where I could feel his forehead was, I didn't need to see his body to figure it out. He was frozen stiff, but I knew it was him.
While my friend drove us, I cried, but felt overwhelmingly at peace. I was going to take care of Iggy one last time, all the way to the end. This was my goodbye to my best friend.
At the crematorium, I filled out the paperwork and picked out a beautiful urn from their huge selection. One that immediately said "Iggy" to me. My friend agreed that that was the urn to choose. The people were so nice and caring, having come in after hours to meet me and set up his cremation. They made all the arrangements, saying his cremains would be ready by tomorrow afternoon. They totally respected and agreed to my wish of removing the plastic covering him, but wrapping him back in his favorite blanket and cremating him like that.. I asked for a few minutes alone with him to say goodbye.
I got down on my knees (I had set him on a stool), and pulled the blanket off where I knew his head was, and pulled the opaque plastic bag for my first look at his lifeless body. My heart sank even further. It was him. Fuzzy white nose, rounded ears, and blue mustache and all. My little boy. My Igloo. My Iggy Piggy.
I started crying harder, and covered him again, letting my tears fall on the blanket I had wrapped him in. I told him how loved he was, and that I knew he knew that. That there was such a hole in my heart, and that I missed him so dearly. That he was the best friend I'd ever had, human or otherwise. That I was so sorry I hadn't been there, and that I had left him, but that I hoped he had remembered that I was coming back for him, I always came back for him. That he was so loved by so many people. From musicians to religious people to metal heads to kids,he touched so many lives and showed so many people how "ugly" could be not only "cute" but beautiful, unique, amazing, and incredible. That he taught me so much in the six years we had been together. That he took me from a scared, single 20 year old kid in Los Angeles to a married woman living in Europe. And he was there every step of the way with me. I told him that even if he had lived to be 100 years, it wouldn't have been enough. I told him I had tried so hard to give him a good life, and I hoped he had been happy on his time here. I told him how much I loved him and kissed the blanket covering his head. Then I said the hardest goodbye I have ever said in my life.
I cried again when I got home. The house was still filled with his reminders. The speaker covers shredded from marking (we never minded much), his cat tree, the bowl and placemat in the kitchen, on the floor. It took me a long time to stop crying and fall asleep. The bed was so empty without him sleeping next to/on me.
I picked his cremains up this afternoon. It was so sad, but so beautiful to see the urn, so classy and subtle, sophisticated and charming, just like him. they had made a small plaque, with his name, date of birth, and date of death, for the urn, which was a dark, coffee color, highly glossed with a few brushed silver and gold cat paw prints going up the front and to the lid of the urn. I counted 6 in all, one for each year of his life. I asked if that was intentional, they said no, it had been the manufactured design. I couldn't help but smile at the amazing coincidence.
The ride home was the best I have felt since I found out about his passing. I felt at peace, ready to take my boy home, where he belonged. His last journey.
I lit a small candle and set him on the shelf where he used to crawl up to catch the sun. I told him he was home now, and he would always be in our hearts, no matter what, and will never, ever be forgotten for as long as I live. It felt so good to finally have him home.
Goodbye, my little boy. I love you SO MUCH. You were incredible, and amazing, unique and funny, silly and smart. My life was forever changed because of you. I am so glad you chose to spend yours with me, and share your beautiful soul with everyone who knew you.
I'll miss you so very, very much.
Iggy
*08.09.2006 - +11.20.2012
