An Ode to Nuno.
Okay, not really an "ode" per se, but perhaps, a public farewell...
Nuno was almost 16 years old to the day when I took him for his last and final vet visit today. I'd say that's a ripe old age for a cat. I read that it equates to about 75 in people years. I hope I make it to 75.
Nuno was a barn cat/kitten when I got him. He was from a little town outside Kitzingen Germany, call Bielbelried. It always smelled like onions. Don't know why. Perhaps they grew onions there?
He and I always had communication problems. He never picked up English very well and despite my high aptitude for linguistics, I never learned German. Despite that, he seemed to be a good fit and we got along pretty well most of the time.
He moved to the states in 1993. I never got him registered with Immigration and Naturalization Services... so I guess in a way, he was an illegal alien. Oh well, I tried to keep the burden from the American taxpayers. He never really recovered from the plane ride though. Given how bad food is in Coach, I can't imagine how lousy the service was in "hold". For the first couple weeks in the states, he hid under a dresser and began this odd habit of licking a spot on his arm or back raw. This would be a recurring theme. Whenever anything changed in his normal routine, from me leaving on vacation (or returning for that matter) to rearranging the furniture, he would lick a raw spot. I guess some people drink under stress. Nuno licked under stress.
About 1994, I adopted my other cat, Eddie. She was terribly frail and tiny when I got her. Nuno did not appreciate the addition all that much (perhaps the language barrier - Eddie being an English speaker) but after a new nicked ears, they became best friends and would remain so until the end.
Nuno enjoyed chasing a coat hanger around on top of the bed. The coat hanger was referred to as "the toy". He knew what it was called and would run to the bedroom when I said it. He never cared much for cat toys and over the last fews years his play-wrestling matches with Eddie trickled off to nothing. However, he was always affectionate, fairly vocal, and perpetually curious. He loved anything from "the counter". If you were cooking something at "the counter", he wanted some. If you gave him an olive from the counter, he'd eat it. Give him an olive from the couch... not so much. He loved the holidays because turkey would almost always find its way on the floor. He was fond of head butts and would lay on his back on my lap with arms stretched skyward and let me scratch his belly. Yeah, okay. He had me pretty well trained.
We had our disagreements. He liked to leave calling cards on my army uniforms. Nothing worse that realizing that your cat he whizzed on your pants after you got to work. Couldn't really say, "Sorry sir, may I go home to change? My cat whizzed on my pants." And here of late, he had taken to waking me up to be fed. No problems except for when the time would change and his 7am became 6am - or on weekends. But for the most part, we were pretty good buddies.
Earlier this year, my fiance moved in with her two kittens. Nuno was not really sure what to think of the two sisters at first. But after a while he accepted them with not too much problem. I think he liked to have a couple hotties sniffing around his 75 year old butt. Eddie on the other hand has not taken to it too well. I hope she does okay now that her buddy is gone. I'll have make sure to hug on her quite a bit.
So. 16 years. That's longer than my marriage lasted.
Well old buddy, I'm sorry it took so long for me to learn to say something to you in German. I hope its not too late, old friend.
Auf Wiedersehen meine kleine schwarze Katze. Eddie und ich werden Sie verpassen. Sie waren ein guter Freund. Tchuss Nunochen!
Okay, not really an "ode" per se, but perhaps, a public farewell...
Nuno was almost 16 years old to the day when I took him for his last and final vet visit today. I'd say that's a ripe old age for a cat. I read that it equates to about 75 in people years. I hope I make it to 75.
Nuno was a barn cat/kitten when I got him. He was from a little town outside Kitzingen Germany, call Bielbelried. It always smelled like onions. Don't know why. Perhaps they grew onions there?
He and I always had communication problems. He never picked up English very well and despite my high aptitude for linguistics, I never learned German. Despite that, he seemed to be a good fit and we got along pretty well most of the time.
He moved to the states in 1993. I never got him registered with Immigration and Naturalization Services... so I guess in a way, he was an illegal alien. Oh well, I tried to keep the burden from the American taxpayers. He never really recovered from the plane ride though. Given how bad food is in Coach, I can't imagine how lousy the service was in "hold". For the first couple weeks in the states, he hid under a dresser and began this odd habit of licking a spot on his arm or back raw. This would be a recurring theme. Whenever anything changed in his normal routine, from me leaving on vacation (or returning for that matter) to rearranging the furniture, he would lick a raw spot. I guess some people drink under stress. Nuno licked under stress.
About 1994, I adopted my other cat, Eddie. She was terribly frail and tiny when I got her. Nuno did not appreciate the addition all that much (perhaps the language barrier - Eddie being an English speaker) but after a new nicked ears, they became best friends and would remain so until the end.
Nuno enjoyed chasing a coat hanger around on top of the bed. The coat hanger was referred to as "the toy". He knew what it was called and would run to the bedroom when I said it. He never cared much for cat toys and over the last fews years his play-wrestling matches with Eddie trickled off to nothing. However, he was always affectionate, fairly vocal, and perpetually curious. He loved anything from "the counter". If you were cooking something at "the counter", he wanted some. If you gave him an olive from the counter, he'd eat it. Give him an olive from the couch... not so much. He loved the holidays because turkey would almost always find its way on the floor. He was fond of head butts and would lay on his back on my lap with arms stretched skyward and let me scratch his belly. Yeah, okay. He had me pretty well trained.
We had our disagreements. He liked to leave calling cards on my army uniforms. Nothing worse that realizing that your cat he whizzed on your pants after you got to work. Couldn't really say, "Sorry sir, may I go home to change? My cat whizzed on my pants." And here of late, he had taken to waking me up to be fed. No problems except for when the time would change and his 7am became 6am - or on weekends. But for the most part, we were pretty good buddies.
Earlier this year, my fiance moved in with her two kittens. Nuno was not really sure what to think of the two sisters at first. But after a while he accepted them with not too much problem. I think he liked to have a couple hotties sniffing around his 75 year old butt. Eddie on the other hand has not taken to it too well. I hope she does okay now that her buddy is gone. I'll have make sure to hug on her quite a bit.
So. 16 years. That's longer than my marriage lasted.
Well old buddy, I'm sorry it took so long for me to learn to say something to you in German. I hope its not too late, old friend.
Auf Wiedersehen meine kleine schwarze Katze. Eddie und ich werden Sie verpassen. Sie waren ein guter Freund. Tchuss Nunochen!
posted by Toast @ 4:55 PM
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