In Memory Of Jånni, Beloved Cat

I haven’t written anything since we started moving in early May, because moving takes a lot of time and I haven’t prioritized it after we got more settled in. There’s been a lot going on. I’m not getting into the whole world being on fire thing either, I’m talking strictly personal.

I did actually write three or four paragraphs introducing and sharing the opening parts of my short story Four Cats And A Life Improved on the occasion of the two year anniversary of our cat Simba dying. You can read that post elsewhere on this site, it should be pretty easy to find, we all know how web pages work. I, however, do not really know how to add links to these posts.

Anyway, small spoiler, that story ends with the line “I was gonna be alright, and Gianni would be too.”

Jånni, the real cat Gianni is based on and the last remaining of the titular Four Cats the story is about, sadly passed away one month ago, and now feels like an appropriate time to write a few words about him as well.

I’ve been thinking I should write about Jånni after he died for a little while, I just wanted to give it some space and also the whole Lot Going On thing has kept me from writing at all for a couple months, but hopefully I’ll get more back into it with this little writeup.

A few days before we started the move, Jånni started having diarrhea, and it continued after we moved. We first thought, or rather hoped, it might be stress related, as he always was a sensitive cat, and the alternative was worse. We were gonna live in the new house with him, we weren’t going to start our lives in hopefully our forever home without him.

We tried different tips, boiled chicken, fish cakes, and it seemed to help for a day or so, but then the diarrhea came back. I drove to the vet and asked for some advice, bought some new food that might help, and some medicine for loose stomachs. However, this did not help, and we eventually booked an appointment with the veterinarian.

On the following Friday and Saturday, his stool became more firm, and we briefly thought it was just stress related and that he would be fine. Late on Sunday though, I saw him come back to the living room after going to the litter box, and I knew it was bad again, because he was so ashamed. You could see it over his whole body that the poor little guy was ashamed of having diarrhea, not knowing why it was happening. Or perhaps he did know he was sick, and was ashamed of not being able to hide it any longer.

I realized then that the vet appointment was exactly four years and eight months after I first met him, and being schizophrenic and seeing patterns in everything, I took it as a horrible sign. In the aforementioned short story I get into it a bit about signs from the universe and cats dying.

It was horrible getting him into the cage, Rakel had to wrap him in a towel and shove him in while I held it, and she said it was the worst thing she’s had to do (I think, the talks in the days after are a bit fuzzy). We drove to the vet, and they decided to keep him overnight and run more tests the following day, which I took as a good sign, and he responded well to the first checkups.

That Tuesday I was out in the garden doing whatever when Rakel called, and she told me she’d heard from the vet and it was bad news. There were multiple tumors in his belly, just like it had been with Simba. There was nothing to be done. We needed to go there after she was done at work and say goodbye to our little friend.

I cried and then I cried some more.

Ever since I met him, almost five years ago, I would always say “You see? Dad/mom will always come back,” whenever we’d been gone for longer than usual. I knew I had to say it when we got to the vet’s office. We would come back to him one last time to say goodbye.

I will carry it with me forever though, that when I saw him I choked up, and wasn’t able to say anything at all, just hold him and cry. It was just as terrible as saying goodbye to Simba two years ago.

Jånni was truly a mama’s boy, and he was sort of indifferent to me the whole time I knew him. He was never hostile, but he loved his mom and his mom only. I was incidental. On one of our last nights together, we were home alone for a few hours, and at one point he came up to me on the couch, sniffed my face as usual, but for some reason he gave me an actual full on the lips kiss. It was very nice.

It’s very strange being just two humans together, after almost five years together with one and previously two cats. Sadness comes and goes, but I sometimes feel an intense need to hug a cat, and I can’t. I might have to visit some friends with cats soon just to feel something, but it’s not like cats are known for being overly affective towards people they don’t know that well.

I will manage to go on, however.

I've written a few thousand words about cats now, between this and the short story, and I guess it’s nice to have something to look back on and reread at some point in the future. I would rather have Jånni and Simba here and never write a word though.

I’ll be back here at some point, perhaps sooner rather than later!