Excessive

Tidus. Tidus was a super-cuddly, attention seeking, loving and stubborn Russian Blue cat. I got him 12 years ago to this day, May 23, 2003, and I have loved him and appreciated him every day since. Today, May 23, 2015, he died, and I had to sign the paper saying it should be done.

Tidus was two years old when I got him. He belonged to the daughter of a co-worker of my Mom's (if you can follow that). Apparently Tidus was the daughters responsibility, but the daughter was failing at those responsibilities, and so a new owner was found, me.

My Mom and Lindy dropped him off at my place in east London, and this was back when I lived with Ben. It was an interesting time in my life (to say the least) and having a friend to go through it with was very appealing. I remember my first thought about him was "wow, he's big and masculine!". I had only ever had female cats, and was worried I wouldn't like a boy, and to be honest, his size, and muscular face kind of caught me off guard, but immediately it was clear that he was the most loving, appreciative, kind cat that I had ever met in my life.

We instantly bonded, and he loved sleeping in my bed, under my sheets... any time he was scared or stressed, he would somehow make his way under all my sheets and comforter, and sleep under it all in a big ball, and that was always awesome to me. He felt safe there, and in turn that made me feel safe.

Soon, Marle and then Kairi joined us in our family, and he accepted both as friends, sisters, whatever... he loved them. Not just tolerated them, but cleaned them, protected them if something scary was happening; they slept together and played together and would wait for food together. The three of them were an unbreakable team, and I've thought of them as my kids, as ridiculous as that may sound.

Life went on, I had my own ups and downs, moved from place to place, and relationship to now, married, with a home, structure, security, safety, and buddy had followed me the entire way. We'd lived together in a shitty, tiny east end three story walk up. We survived living in a wretched slum, drug infested apartment on Grey st. Survived the unbearably hot and claustrophobic days in Langarth, where he loved to sit and stare out of our second story windows down at the street. He packed his things and moved with us to Osgoode, where we suffered the first loss in our family and we lost Marle.

It was in Osgoode where he first started showing signs of having some problems, although none that ever effected him in any noticeable ways. He still got the job done, so to speak. He tended to walk slower, take stairs slower, and he kind of limped in a weird way, but not like you'd expect. It just looked like maybe his hips or legs hurt him a little bit, but he ate, pooped, peed, jumped up places, and didn't seem to give a crap.

We made our final move to Rodney where he loved exploring the new place. He seemed happy still, he loved sleeping in his king size bed, sometimes still under all of the covers, just like twelve years earlier. He would have accidents, where he would pee in random places, or on things worth money (shoes, books, etc) and this would cause quite the stress, but I loved him, and I would put up with it for as long as I had to if it meant more time with him. I figured it was just because his legs hurt and he didn't want to go the distance to the litter box maybe, but he could still jump the four feet up to our bed like it ain't no thang, so then I thought he might have just thought it was funny to see me get mad when he'd pee on stuff.

This morning I was mowing the lawn and Bekki came out to tell me he was acting weird, he pooped on the floor and then threw up, and was panting. I came in and could tell something was wrong. I could hear him struggling to take full breaths, and with Kairi standing right beside him, I could compare the speed of breathing and see he was breathing almost twice as fast. We called and made a vet appointment in Glencoe (the closest vet) for as early as possible, which was about an hour and a half from that time.

I spent the time before the appointment just sitting with him on the couch. I could tell he was a bit scared, having a bit of a hard time breathing properly, but I was petting him, and he was purring, and he would look at me and he was happy. I stayed with him.

The trip to the vet was okay, he only meowed a few times. I could tell he got more stressed, which caused him to pant more, and drool, and I could tell it was because of the stress. You know, I know there is the whole stages of grief, where you go through anger and denial and all that, and I can see it in my own actions, but I can't help but feel like bringing him to the vet was a self-fulfilling prophecy, and I can't stop thinking about what would've happened if we had just left him at home. Would he have eventually caught his breath? Would he lived another week, month or year? We took him for a car ride at a time when he was having a hard time breathing. The car ride scared him, causing him to have even more trouble breathing. Then we brought him into a vet, with the inspections, moving him around, trying to put an oxygen mask on him, clips on him, he got worse and worse, really fast, to the point his tongue was sticking out, and I feel like it was just all this stress and fear causing it. He got so bad that he had to be put down, he wasn't getting enough oxygen because his hearth rate was so high because he was so scared, but he was having trouble breathing so he didn't have the oxygen required to support such a fast heart.

I know, it was probably inevitable. I know that he probably wouldn't have got better. But I blame myself for him dying, because I tried to do what I thought was right. I feel like I caused him to get worse, to the point where killing him became an option.

Tidus was brave, never scared to stand his ground in a fight. Tidus loved breasts, faces, laps, licking any skin anywhere. Tidus loved my king bed and feather duvet. Tidus favorite place to sleep in Rodney was on top of the router, using it as a pillow, cause the heat would warm his face. He would sit there with me after dinner when I drank my coffee and played on the computer, and he'd sit beside me on the router, just watching (in reality he was sitting there waiting for the chance to sit on someone, just waiting to see that lap open). He also loved sleeping on the bed in the sunlight.

Tidus stayed with his family until the end, always sleeping with Kairi on the chair in our living room. Calmly keeping Kairi company. He never had a problem with her, and loved her company.

He loved being brushed (I even brushed him today before we went to the vet), he loved being carried around and shown interesting things, out the window, up on counters, places he couldn't normally see. He put his paws up on your shoulder and sit comfortably for as long as you'd have him.

Probably the most unique thing about buddy was his brumping. He'd vocally say hi to you. If you walked by him and made eye contact, he would turn and say, "BRUMP". I'd hide around the corner of a wall, and stick my head out and he's jump down and go, "BRUMP!", and we'd play that for a few minutes. He would answer to both of his names... Tidus, "brrp", buuuuuddy, "brrp". It was his way of saying "yeah?", or "hey!".

Another thing about Tidus that is unlike anything I've seen in a cat, was how social he was. Of all the friends I've made over the years since I got him, in the last 12 years, any one that has ever been to my house, knows Tidus. They know his uniqueness and friendliness, they know him as that big manly mountain lion. They know how much he loves licking and sitting on you. He has a facebook page! He is just such a fixture in my life, and the people that know me, know my cat Tidus.

I buried Tidus O.B. Ganges in my backyard, beside a giant weeping evergreen tree. He looked peaceful and at rest, and I buried him with his dinner plate. I will always love him, I will never forget him. I won't let myself. He was such an important part of my life.

When I got my first job after a terrible few years of being an alcoholic, unemployed, depressed, insane person, I was insanely nervous to go to work. I remember freaking out, and I remember going to my cats; going to Tidus and saying, "this is for you". I knew that I had to make money to take care of my cats. I knew that I had to take care of Tidus and that at the end of the day, after my scary stuff, I'd come home and he'd be there, and he'd sleep on me and brrp at me when I came in, and it would all be okay. I have his paw tattooed on my wrists.

Tidus, my buddy, was 14 and a half years old when he died. He took care of me for 12 of those years. I will never forget his 100% unique personality, attitude and behaviour. I love you Tidus, and I'm sorry if you were ever in any pain, ever bored, ever lonely or scared. I love you and I'm going to miss you.

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