Rocky (1989-2003)

A friend of mine had a tortoise shell persian cross who had kittens. We don't know who the sire was, but suspect it was a feral. I visited my friend when the kittens were two weeks old to pick one out. Rocky wasn't actually my first choice. I had my eye on a gorgeous little tortoise shell kitten, but he was already promised to someone else. So I picked a ginger and white fluffy kitten, and I'm so glad I did! This kitten had huge paws, so I knew he would develop into a big cat.

I brought him home when he was 6 weeks old and introduced him to my partner's 7 year old golden retriever, Carmen. After the initial shock of being confronted with a huge dog as a housemate, Rocky soon became good friends with Carmen who could often be seen giving Rocky a lick before cuddling up together for a sleep. I named him after the Rocky movies because he loved to shadow-box.

Rocky was about 6 years old when my relationship with my partner failed. When I moved out, Rocky pined for Carmen, which was really sad to watch. My partner didn't like Rocky on the bed, so it took a bit of coaxing to get Rocky to sleep on the bed with me in the unit I rented. When he realised it really was okay to sleep on the bed, his favourite spot in the whole unit was on the bed, wrapped around my arm having his belly rubbed.

I bought a house in 2001, and Rocky immediately made it his own. He was always very well adjusted, and didn't care where he was, as long as I was nearby. Soon after I moved in, I installed a cat flap so he could go outside whenever he wanted. Well, actually it was a small dog flap, because he couldn't fit through a normal cat flap! He was 11 years old and slowing down, and he was overweight at 13kg. When he had to have an operation for a urinary tract blockage, the vet told me his weight was becoming a problem, so I put him on a diet. The special diet food was expensive, but he was more than worth it.

When Rocky started to lose weight in late 2002, I thought the diet was working and congratulated myself for it. Over the years, Rocky would sometimes vomit after eating too much grass or lizards, and I didn't initially notice the gradual increase in his vomitting. I was on 4 weeks leave from work when he started to go off his food in March 2003. I took him to the vet to have his teeth cleaned because he had a plaque buildup and I thought that was the reason he was off his food. Whilst Rocky was under anaesthetic, the vet rang me to say he could feel a mass inside Rocky, and asked my permission to open him up to take a look. It was cancer.

Rocky had extensive lymphoma cancer in his spleen and liver. I decided not to put him through chemotherapy because of his age, and the nearest place to get it done was 2 hours away. I have questioned that decision ever since. I took him home, nursed him, spoiled him, cuddled him, and didn't leave his side for two weeks. I made ramps to the bed and the couch because he was having trouble jumping to them. His favourite spot was still on the bed, wrapped around my arm having a belly rub. Then he stopped eating, stopped coming onto the bed, and was having trouble breathing. It was time. My dear mother drove the 2 hours to my place and then drove me to the vet with Rocky draped in my arms. I couldn't let him suffer any more. Mum helped me to bury him in my back yard and I made a plaque for his grave. That day was the most painful of my life.