Dimm
A donation was made in memory of Dimm by the doctors and staff at Ravenna Animal Hospital on Dec 16, 2016.
DIMM
May 24, 1997 – October 15, 2016
DIMM was adopted in 1997 from MEOW cat rescue. I met him and his sister at 4 weeks old when they were being bottle-fed by their foster parents until they were old enough to be adopted at 6 weeks. When I met DIMM, after sniffing my hand, he went and scratched on the vertical cat scratcher, then looked over his shoulder at me as if for approval.
But the first moment I knew he was truly special was when we had our first conversation. He was on the deck and meowed because he wanted me to open the screen door to come in. I pointed him around the corner to the open window. After a 2 minute back and forth exchange with his meows changing pitch and tone in response to mine, he finally went around the corner and jumped through the window. He obviously understood what I wanted him to do, at the same time he knew what he wanted me to do.
Then he started his TV habit with a videotape called CatTV. The first time he watched a flock of birds take flight, he ran around the side of the TV to see where they went. He eventually learned that the box was just for watching, and no birds or squirrels will ever come out of it. Eventually he graduated to sci-fi, and whenever the Star Trek theme song, started playing, no matter where he was in the house, he would come trotting into the room, jump up on the couch or bed and sit down facing the TV. When I watched him I could see his head and eyes tracking the movements on screen.
Then one day when DIMM was 18, he was sleeping in the sun in the living room. He was there for a few hours when I realized he couldn't walk. I rushed him to the vet and the Emergency Clinic where they stabilized him but no x-rays or tests found anything conclusive, but it was likely a neurological event. The option was to give him an MRI to see what it might be. I declined because anesthesia at his age was too risky. Everyone recommended euthanasia. We were unwilling to let him go without giving him the option to recover. I had read that strokes in cats are fairly common and they can recover. The doctors gave him a prescription for a couple weeks to see if we could help him improve. As it just so happened I was starting a 6 week sabbatical from work. I cancelled the planned trip overseas and my partner returned home early and we slowly helped DIMM rehabilitate. The rehab was a story in itself but he was able to walk (with assistance) in 2 weeks and was able to get up on his own in about 4 weeks.
After the neurological event, DIMM gave us an extra year to be together. Having narrowly lost him and knowing that next time we might not be so lucky, we loved him more than ever. In that time, his sister became sick and we had to let her go. Several months after she went, he became ill and could not walk again, this time due to high levels of calcium. It seemed more dire this time, and we didn't feel that it would be fair to put him through more tests and pills. We let DIMM go.
DIMM,
• Thank you for being the best boy. • Thank you for recovering from your stroke at age 18 and giving us that extra year together—for loving corn and letting it motivate your recovery. • Thank you for the years of TV and conversation. We love you.
DIMM was adopted in 1997 from MEOW cat rescue. I met him and his sister at 4 weeks old when they were being bottle-fed by their foster parents until they were old enough to be adopted at 6 weeks. When I met DIMM, after sniffing my hand, he went and scratched on the vertical cat scratcher, then looked over his shoulder at me as if for approval.
But the first moment I knew he was truly special was when we had our first conversation. He was on the deck and meowed because he wanted me to open the screen door to come in. I pointed him around the corner to the open window. After a 2 minute back and forth exchange with his meows changing pitch and tone in response to mine, he finally went around the corner and jumped through the window. He obviously understood what I wanted him to do, at the same time he knew what he wanted me to do.
Then he started his TV habit with a videotape called CatTV. The first time he watched a flock of birds take flight, he ran around the side of the TV to see where they went. He eventually learned that the box was just for watching, and no birds or squirrels will ever come out of it. Eventually he graduated to sci-fi, and whenever the Star Trek theme song, started playing, no matter where he was in the house, he would come trotting into the room, jump up on the couch or bed and sit down facing the TV. When I watched him I could see his head and eyes tracking the movements on screen.
Then one day when DIMM was 18, he was sleeping in the sun in the living room. He was there for a few hours when I realized he couldn't walk. I rushed him to the vet and the Emergency Clinic where they stabilized him but no x-rays or tests found anything conclusive, but it was likely a neurological event. The option was to give him an MRI to see what it might be. I declined because anesthesia at his age was too risky. Everyone recommended euthanasia. We were unwilling to let him go without giving him the option to recover. I had read that strokes in cats are fairly common and they can recover. The doctors gave him a prescription for a couple weeks to see if we could help him improve. As it just so happened I was starting a 6 week sabbatical from work. I cancelled the planned trip overseas and my partner returned home early and we slowly helped DIMM rehabilitate. The rehab was a story in itself but he was able to walk (with assistance) in 2 weeks and was able to get up on his own in about 4 weeks.
After the neurological event, DIMM gave us an extra year to be together. Having narrowly lost him and knowing that next time we might not be so lucky, we loved him more than ever. In that time, his sister became sick and we had to let her go. Several months after she went, he became ill and could not walk again, this time due to high levels of calcium. It seemed more dire this time, and we didn't feel that it would be fair to put him through more tests and pills. We let DIMM go.
DIMM,
• Thank you for being the best boy. • Thank you for recovering from your stroke at age 18 and giving us that extra year together—for loving corn and letting it motivate your recovery. • Thank you for the years of TV and conversation. We love you.
