How I Feel Today

Okay guys. I never post. Always a an upvoter. But today I need to get some shit off my chest.

This, regal mother fucker was Cole. And he is my hero. He saved my life in more ways than one.

Me. Before deployment. Ha. Look at that cherry fuck. Kid. You have no idea. Anyway. Kandahar awaits.

There we go. Bye. See you all later.

Just in case you all thought I wasn't bringing backup.

Obligatory sandstorm pic.

And we are home. Now don't get it twisted. My deployment was not some horrifying series of events. It was mainly boring. I was a base MP. There were about 30 of us for a total of about 60k people during the summer. We worked a full range of cases. One homicide, sexual assaults, sexual harassment, assaults, two riots, over one hundred rocket attacks, one green on blue. And a lot more close calls than I would like to admit.

I was in a not good place when I went on deployment. Having just gone through a divorce. When I came home I tried to pick up where I left off, but things didn't really go as planned. I had always had depression issues, but I had been able to manage it. Mainly through drinking. So when I came home to an empty apartment, I found no reason not to indulge. So I did.

One day I got home from work and sat in my car with my pistol in my lap. Loaded, ready to go. I felt I had to purpose anymore. We hadn't changed anything. No war was won. The medivac choppers would still be flying into KAF regardless. I reached out to a friend. They answered.

Enter this fluffy guy.

Cole was ten when I adopted him. He had been at the shelter for a long time. He was set aside in this little pen with about four other older cats. I opened the door and he walked right up, stretched out up my leg and tilted his head.

This was my fucking kitty.

He was the man. And came into my life just when I needed him most. Cole was strictly an indoor kitty. His previous owner had him declawed, which I personally think is barbaric. As a result he was incredibly gentile. Lazy. And incredibly cuddly.

Here he is helping me decide which captain to kill next.

Sleeping.

More sleeping.

Wondering why I take so many pictures. Because I love you fluffy butt.

Such a good little guy.

Has it so rough.

He had a judgmental side of him. Mainly he was judging me for pooping with the bathroom door open.

One of my all time favorite pictures of him.

Anyway. About a week ago Cole began to not eat all of his food. Which is odd. This little guy would meet me at the door yelling everyday when I got home from work, demanding fresh food and water. Which I gladly provided. I tried to get him the best food my budget could afford. So when he stopped greeting me everyday, and stopped eating all of his food, I took him to the vet as soon as I could. Which was the following Monday. By the time I got him in he had lost about a pound and a half. The vet told me it was more than likely kidney failure. The vet gave me medicated food for him to try and get him eating, as well a prescription to help boost his appetite. He continued to not eat, even with the meds, and lost control of his urinary function.

I camped out in the den with him most of the night, and moved my console in there so he could cuddle up with me like old times.

I set up a GoFundMe to help cover the cost of the testing and treatment. I knew it was a long shot, but I had to try. My friends and family came through in a huge way. And by Wednesday we had reached goal. It was a huge lift to our spirits.

The is the rare kitty ball. Also one of my favorite pictures of him.

I got Cole into the vet Friday afternoon. I stayed home with him all day Thursday. Trying to get him to eat. Trying to get him to drink water. He hadn't eaten more than a few bites since Monday, and was incredibly weak. He couldn't clean himself, and was barely able to walk under his own power.

When I got him in we had to take the cat carrier apart around him to avoid injuring him trying to remove him from it. Cole had lost almost another pound since Monday.

It was time. He was in a lot of pain. It would have been selfish for me to hold him here while he was suffering. So I made the hard call. I let me buddy go. He died peacefully in my arms. Cuddled up close. Falling asleep one last time on my lap. I told him before he went that he saved my life, and I loved him.

I know I did everything I could to save him. I know I gave him a great life. But it still hurts. I still miss him. It still really fucking hurts. Part of me has been stripped away, and I wish to hell it hadn't been. Cole was my emotional support, my spirit guide, my friend. A small fluffy creature that showed me love and affection regardless of what mood was.

I am going to miss you buddy. I wish you nothing but lazy sunny windowsills, large bowls of your favorite foods, both wet and dry. I hope you have just the right number of belly rubs before you get annoyed, and nothing but love.

Sorry for the long post. Thank you for reading it all.