Requiem for a Rambo

One of our cats, ironically named Rambo*, passed away this week after a cancer diagnosis that was made a few months ago.  Saying goodbye to him was hard but made worse by the fact that we got to see his slow slide into very ill health.  After discovering the (at the time) small tumor, we were told at the veterinarian hospital that the options were either an amputation of his back leg or making him as comfortable as possible for the time he had left.  We opted for the latter, as there was no guarantee that the cancer would be forever gone, and having an older cat re-learn how to walk on three legs seemed just wrong to us. 

The above noted, Rambo deserves to have his story told, so I’m going to do just that, blunt language and all.

I am not sure when Rambo became a pet for my two stepsons, although I think it was around 2010.  Regardless, he was apparently a very active kitten and was loved dearly by Alex and Robby.  However, as is the case far too many times, Rambo became the victim of a very bitter divorce, specifically between my stepson’s late father and Ms. Rivers.  The net effect on Rambo was that after the boys ended up no longer living with their father, he kicked Rambo out of the only home he knew, and he ended up living on the streets.

An editorial sidenote is appropriate here:  Assuming there is a higher power in the universe, I would think/hope that they would not embrace anyone in the next life who was intentionally cruel to any household pet such as a dog or a cat.  Actually, “…not embrace” is far too weak a phrase here, so I’ll instead say this:  I hope people who abuse animals spend some time in Hell for what they’ve done.  This example is included.

Anyway, Rambo was ill-equipped to live outside, but apparently made the best of it for a few months, being fed by people in the neighborhood and avoiding the terrible things that await outdoor cats.  However, after learning of this and realizing in October that things would start to get pretty cold outside, we decided to rescue him and bring him into our home.  My stepson Robby did the capture part, which was not all that difficult, seeing that Rambo came right up to him when called.  After that, Rambo got fully checked out by the veterinarian, was treated for the things that harm outdoor cats, and became a full-time member of our family.  We kept this whole thing in the down-low, so as to avoid the former owner from taking any kind of further retribution or otherwise claiming ownership of Rambo.  We were not letting him go back, ever.

Note that Rambo never once expressed any kind of desire to go back outside.  He knew better.

As a member of our family, Rambo enjoyed getting cat treats, playing with his brothers (that would include Oren and the now deceased Tiger and JeanLuc)…

(JeanLuc, Rambo, Tiger)

…and doing rollies for me.  “Rollies” in case you are curious, was basically him rolling over on this side, showing his belly, and inviting some affection most times when I would simply say “rollies” to him.  His physical condition stopped him from making rollies a few months ago, but I want to believe that, when I still asked him, he was making rollies on the inside.

As a final note, there’s been a string of losses impacting our families over the past few weeks, some of humankind in addition to the feline kind.  That sort of thing takes a toll.  However, I try to remind myself that death is as much a part of life as actually breathing is, in that both are inevitable parts of our experience in this existence.  While we (including I…) mourn, I take some solace in the fact that for many years, Rambo lived an outstanding life, hopefully making up for the cruelty he experienced in the past.

Rest in Peace RollieKitty.

 

(*) Rambo was hardly a “Rambo”, not prone to extreme behavior.  He was though a smart and thoughtful kitty.