I had a cat. My first cat that I knew from kitten to geriatric. Nieve passed away on February 1, 2015. I’ve wanted to write him a memorial since the day he passed away, but can’t seem to adequately convey how I felt about him and how I will remember him always. Strange how I have lost many people this past year and can write about them, but when it comes to this four legged critter, I can’t.In fact, he’s been my muse for years. I’ve started children’s books about his adventures or books with him as the main character. Nieve inspired writing in me- or at least thoughts of writing. But I have never been able to complete anything with him in it. However, it’s not for a lack of love or trying.

I met Nieve-Sol on September 11, 2001. That day is known for many things. But to me, it’s not only known as the day where my sense of safety and humanity was rocked to the core – it’s also known as the day I looked into Nieve’s eyes for the first time.

My sister and I moved in together as roommates that day. It was our first- and only apartment- that we shared. She brought along with her three felines. Two of those cats she had since kittens and in 2001 were about three or four. The other cat had been an impulse buy. A kitten she had recently adopted at the vet. A cat- we would later find out- that was the only surviving member of his litter. I wasn’t too pleased at my sister getting a third cat right before moving in together but I was trying to be my typical “younger sister knows better but doesn’t say it” self.

But the moment I met Nieve, the stress at having three cats melted away. He got in my lap and I cradled and pet him until he fell asleep. It was about twelve hours after we found out about the 9/11 attacks and watched it on TV. So while I was feeling incredibly vulnerable- I felt incredibly responsible with this little white kitten in my lap. I whispered words to him and he started purring. And immediately, we each knew we had found a soul mate.
Nieve was a flame point Siamese. He was a large cat. Both fat and long. He had beautiful white fur with spots of orange on the tips of his ears, tails, and nose. He was beautiful and soft. I loved holding him as he instantly warmed me, no matter what the mood. 

Trish chose the name Nieve-Sol because of his flame point features. Nieve meaning snow in Spanish and Sol meaning sun. It was fitting but extremely confusing for people. Vet Assistants never knew how to pronounce it so mispronounced his name constantly. Tim and I always had bets going on at the various vet offices to see how they would pronounce it each time.

We called him “Never” or “Nev” or “Bev”. His favorite song that I sang that would get him purring was, “Never the cat; Never the cat; there ain’t no cat like Never the cat.”

 Nieve was always at my side, especially in his younger years. There wasn’t a night that went by that he didn’t fall asleep on my stomach and not a night that didn’t go by where he would roll over so he was cradled in my left arm. We slept like that for years. Sometimes I would get a bit annoyed and grumble, “Never” but I never turned him away. Often in the mornings I would wake up and open my eyes to find him staring at me- waiting for me to tap my belly as if to say, “it’s okay now. You can come on up”. When he got the okay from me he would give a Siamese meow and then cuddle.

As he grew older of course, he grew more persistent. I admittedly would get frustrated with him as he became more and more inpatient with my sleeping. If I wasn’t responsive enough to scratch him immediately, he would bite my nose, neck, or chin. Silly ol’ cat.

 I don’t entirely blame him for wanting to be scratched and pet constantly. He was allergic to his own fur. So he would get incredibly scratchy and would sometimes scratch himself until he was raw and bleeding. At least two years over the course of his life were lived with a cone or scarf around his neck. This helped him stop from scratching on his neck or face. He had a scar and strange growing of fur on his right cheek from his kittenhood when he scratched himself silly on the cheek.

We called Nieve our “special needs kitty” because well, he was special and he had a lot of needs. He was the only one who survived of the litter so we know that there was something at birth that he was exposed to, so nothing surprised us. He was extremely clumsy which is not normally associated with cats. If Nieve fell, he didn’t land on his feet. Often we would see him try to jump up on something and not make it. Or he would be asleep and roll over and off the couch. No matter what the incident, Nieve would always act like he meant to do it- that it was no accident.

It helps in the grieving on some levels for Tim and me to know that Nieve is a very big deal in the veterinary world. He was written up as an odd case in someone’s medical journal. I wish I could find it but I never could find the article. We received a call one morning asking us to bring in Nieve so a world renowned vet could examine him. I proudly took our kitty for his examination. I have a feeling Nieve wasn’t so thrilled.

When Tim and I were newly married in 2003, I came home one day to a window open with the screen popped off in our second floor apartment. I called for Nieve who usually rushed up to me the moment I came home from work. He had fallen out of the window and we couldn’t find him anywhere. I called Tim at work in a panic and he told his work that he had to come home. He knew I was beside myself with worry. We spent an entire afternoon and evening looking for Nieve with no luck. That night, I stood at a cracked window and was speaking to Tim about our strategy to find him the next day. And there came Nieve, hearing the sound of my voice. He was caterwauling and continued caterwauling until I took him inside, fed him, and cradled him in my arms.

I wonder if I am having a hard time writing about him because I can’t adequately describe how much I loved him. How much comfort he brought me. He was the first pet that I had for so many years and he was my best friend. He was calming when I was sad, frustrated, or grieving. He would let me pick him up and sob in his neck. He purred at the sound of my whispers. He purred at the feeling of my fingers scratching his chins. And he purred at my presence.

I also think my grief is for never finishing those stories about Nieve. He was my muse and I worry my tales can’t be written based on memories alone.

 The death of a pet is traumatic. There are not many times in life, I hope, that we are given the choice of choosing the time of a creature we love’s death. Nieve had cancer, lymphoma, and we got through the first rounds of chemotherapy before he got even sicker and his body went into sepsis. The last day of his life, I tried everything I could to get him to eat. I put peanut butter on my finger (his favorite) and maple syrup on his food (his other favorite). And he wouldn’t eat anything. I couldn’t even get him to drink water. The final day he didn’t want to be held but he tolerated me holding him for about twenty minutes. He let Riley the Pug sniff his head and tail. He laid with his “brother”, our other cat Milo, next to the fire like he did for so many years. He got up in the kitty hammock we got him for Christmas for the first time. He said his goodbyes. And even though we weren’t ready, we knew it was time to let him be pain free.

He sat in my lap when they gave him the medication. I sobbed, Tim sobbed, and I whispered in Nieve’s ear. “We love you buddy. We love you always. Thank you. Thank you.” I thanked him for being that companion for me. My soul kitty. The cat that got me through dark, dark days. The kitty that provided me with unconditional love. The kitty who purred at the sound of my whispers.

I found myself in a panic during the days directly after Nieve passed. I worried he no longer existed- anywhere. The thought of him simply vanishing from all plains was heartbreaking. But I realized he existed in my mind where I chose him to exist. So I choose him to be all around me. I choose him to be in my memories. I choose to picture him on a kitty hammock, stretched out in the sun. I choose him to be a part of the energy that I breathe in every day. I choose him to be a part of my heart.

Much love my little muse. Forever and always.

Nieve-Sol
White.
Gentle.
Blue-eyed.
Loyal.
Loving.
Persistent.
Friend.
Companion.
Caretaker.
Intuitive.
Stubborn.
Mischievous.
Protective.
Whiney.
Vocal.
Special.
Sweet.
Missed.
Loved.
Heartbroken.
Remembered.