Celebrating Nick

Alpha. Aggressive. Clown. Gentle Giant.

Nicholas was all of those and more.

Simmering between 17 and 20# for most of his life,  Nick never failed to cause a reaction when he met someone new, be it at home or at a new vet. Vet techs would brace to "deal" with the miniature panther, and then melt when they realized how utterly charming he was. That he knew they were there to help him feel better soon became evident.

Nick and Cookie shared an Odd Couple relationship. The same age, they already lived on our Kentucky acres when we bought the house. Neurotic and nervous, Cookie was befriended by my outdoor tabbies, Moose & Logan, and hired to run Nicholas off. Nick had worn out his welcome by trying to destroy them. Eager to please his new friends, Cookie took his job seriously.

Moose, Cookie & Logan in KY

I still have this picture in my head of small Cookie crawling up the brick barbecue after huge Nick, twice his size. Nick clearly was trying to get away from the pest, but Cookie was relentless. Nick could have easily pummeled poor Cookie, but there was something about Cookie that touched all of us. He always had his tail tucked between his legs, and would roll belly up when approached by man or beast, submissive and insecure...except when it came to Nick. He would be follow him, smacking his tail, chattering non-stop in his rusty weird little voice.

That relationship continued up until 2006 when we relocated to Southaven. Stuck inside the house together, their relationship evolved and soon they were Co-Alphas. Not really "Co" since The General, as we nicknamed Cookie, was more annoying than a leader, but as Nick aged I think he cared less and less about managing the younger cats. I fed Nick and Cookie side by side every day.

Eating is a sacred ritual among animals and experts declare that territorial animals should be fed away from each other. My method was the opposite. Side by side, they had to get along or one of them would go hungry. It worked for Nick and Cookie. And its still working as I carry out the same process with two of my outdoor males who started out mortal enemies at the beginning of winter, and as of yesterday were eating off the same plate.

Nevertheless, there were times when Cookie's neurotic behavior irritated the dickens out of Nick and he was forced to remind Cookie who the real Alpha was.

Barney, Herman, Nick, Opie, Kenny

Officially indoor cats once we left Kentucky, my gang of males had to learn how to get along. It was rough going. Anything could set one of them off. Usually it was a battle between Barney & Kenny who were considered bottom rung cats. Even Opie, who arrived January 2008 as a stray kitten, was "above" those two by matter of confidant personality. As a kitten Opie followed Nick around the house, playful and adoring. Nick surprised me by not pummeling the bit of orange fluff. Perhaps Nick recognized a kindred spirit. It was clear pretty early on that Opie one day would be Top Cat of the Kozlowski cats.

Herman, Joe Camel and Nick

There were three things Nick loved more than life itself: the outdoor, being brushed, and laying draped over my legs when I sat on the sofa.

Herman needs constant brushing to keep his baby fine hair from covering every inch of the house. I had to shut us behind closed doors because if Nick got wind there was brushing going on, he would come running and hip-check the cat being brushed aside in order to get his brushing. He loved it so much that after there was nothing left to brush, he'd insist I keep going.

Lounging outside was the highlight of Nick's day. He was always gracious enough to share the lounge with me.

During one of our annual Halloween parties, Nick went as a snake charmer. He had a playful side and if I told him he looked great wearing a snake or an air freshener tag off his tail, then he strutted proudly.

Nick, sitting on the deck of our Kentucky property is one of the ways I'll always remember him. We used to go for long walks together. He was born free, and even though I adopted him he continued to explore beyond our property. I saw him many times in the cow field across the road, standing on the ridge as I went to work. I'd worry about him of course, but he was a survivor. I recall one time I saw a red fox on our property...and then I spotted what it was after. NICK! They raced across the front lawn and rounded the corner of the house. I ran from the front window to the back just in time to see Nick enter through the cat door, clearly exhilarated by the chase. Meanwhile I had a small heart attack.

We lived at the top of a hill. Ray and I liked to take a long walks down our long steep driveway, down the country lane, past the cow fields, into a residential subdivision adjacent to our property. Because of the narrow road, when Nick followed us I told him to wait by the gate for us. He sat and we walked on. On our way home we decided to cut through back woods and entered our property from the opposite end. Around dinnertime that evening it struck me that I had not seen Nick since that morning. Then it hit me. Was he still waiting by the gate? I ran down and yes, he was still there, waiting patiently. My heart broke. I called him and he ran to me, his long tail flying high, his high-pitched voice calling, "he-he-he" like he did when he saw me. I gave him extra treats that night to apologize.

We would occasionally have camp fires on the gravel parking area on our property. We would pull out the camp chairs and enjoy the starry night and the flames, otherwise surrounded by pitch darkness. On the nights Nick joined us, I'd bring out an extra camp chair for him. This was our alone time with him as the other cats were inside or tucked into their cat house on the porch.

Nick wasn't just large and in charge...he was a train running full steam ahead! We were connected in so many ways, and yet with that connection came umpteen collisions, several of which landed me painfully on my backside. Last Christmas I was headed for the back door to feed the outside cats. Nick, figuring he was either going to get fed or go outside, raced ahead of me, then dropped back, and cut across me. The plate of food flew into the air and I landed on the tile floor--hard. I lay there for the longest time, thinking 'So this is why they invented Life Alert.' Ray was out of town, I didn't have my cell phone on me. I was pretty sure I'd broken my foot. Around me I heard the soft crunch crunch crunch of Nick, Cookie, Barney and Herm making sure the kibble wouldn't go to waste.

After we left Kentucky Nick was no longer allowed to run free due to a heavily trafficked road near our street. And so, when he did venture out beyond the fence, I had to leash him. Um...that's a dog's harness he's wearing. They just didn't make a cat harness big enough to fit him.

Nick loved me enough to let me swaddle him like a baby.

His favorite of all favorite beds. He had four in his final year.

There were very few times when I sat on that sofa without Nick in my lap. That he was 20# meant nothing to him. He would always smack aside whoever dared to sit on "his" sofa and then take his rightful place draped over my legs.

During his last hurrah outdoors, he relaxed in the winter sunshine. Since days before we had nothing but rain and cold wind, I'd like to think this particular day was a gift from God. We walked together like the good old days, free of harness, just enjoying our time together.

There were even a few trees that desperately needed clawing.

Born a loner, he overcame his rough start in life and became an affectionate house cat. He loved having his ears rubbed, his fur brushed, and me.

This is how I want to remember Nick. He loved to sunbathe and didn't care how silly he looked when he was contently enjoying himself. It was almost as if those rocks were strategically placed to create a soft cradle for him. I'd like to think of him forever more, lying in sunshine, warming his fur, dreaming of birds and mice...and me.

The Smell of Success!

As most of you know, my Nicholas passed away on February 20th from complications of a bacterial infection in his head. He gave a good fight, but in the end my new vet and I agreed he would not survive exploratory surgery.

I wrote the below post back on December 1, 2011 to celebrate Nick's 12th anniversary with me. I've shed enough tears over the past week. And so have my beloved friends who knew how much Nicholas meant to me.

My next post will be nothing but photos and fun memories. And laughs!

Today is Nick's 12th anniversary as a member of my family. He's approximately 14 years old, and was found on the property we bought in Kentucky. At the time he was big (#15) aggressive and stunk--the worst I've ever smelled any stray animal. I thought he’d rolled in something, but turns out it came from inside him. His diet of whatever rodent or garbage he could find caused his body odor to keep everyone, human and animal, at a distance.

Except me, of course. I took pity on him, even when my other cats were running in terror from him, and my husband suggested we ship him out of the neighborhood.

I saw something in Nick that wrenched my heart. A homeless soul who didn’t know how to love because no one had ever loved him. Turns out I was right.

On December 1, 1999 I made the decision to officially adopt Nick. Had to come up with a name, of course. I ignored my husband’s suggestions (you can imagine what they were) and finally came up with Nicholas…the Great! Nothing like a good name to start a lost soul on the road to self-worth.

His diet was next. I couldn’t stop him from eating what he hunted; we were living in the country after all. But I fed him quality canned and kibble to get him on the right road to health. He lived outdoors and wasn’t at all an indoor cat. That winter, our first in a snow climate after living in Florida for 18 years, was brutally cold. I set Nick up on our covered back porch with a dog house and blankets and a heat lamp. To this day I recall the night I had a fire going on the hearth, and my home was warm and cozy. And I thought about him outside, smelling to high heaven.

I had never brought him inside, but we had a pretty good relationship because I fussed over him, and loved on him (all the while holding my nose). I’d never picked him up, but that night I did. I brought him inside and we sat on the couch together. And I rubbed his frozen ears and told him how wonderful he was. He stayed that night only a few minutes. He was uncomfortable being indoors. But each night he stayed a little longer. And he loved having his ears rubbed.

It took more than a year for his body odor to wear off. I tried deodorant sprays for animals but they only made his eau de dead carcass aroma smell even worse. The improvement in his smell, however, did nothing to tame his anger. This was one angry cat! He picked fights with my sweet outdoor cats over absolutely nothing. All they had to do was look at him and he’d be ready to punch their lights out. He was big and formidable, and strong. And yet…he let me come between him and his “prey.” Numerous times I stepped in to break up a fight, and every time Nick pulled back, even though he clearly wanted to draw more blood.

One of my most cherished memories is when Nick brought me a live baby mouse…on Mother’s Day! My husband saw Nick enter the porch through the pet door with the mouse in his mouth. He called me, and as I stepped out, Nick placed the mouse on the tile, and then jumped into a chair to watch me appreciate his gift. Of course I fussed over him, while my indoor clueless cats, Buddy and Holly, sat on either side of the mouse looking at it with amazement. I eventually put it in a box, and asked Nick to come with me while I released it. I told him what a great gift he’d given me. I didn’t mean the mouse, of course. After I released it, we walked together back to the house, Nick strutting proudly, tail high in the air.

Now he’s 14 and winding down. He’s asthmatic, and has tiny topical tumor bumps throughout his body. He’s still Alpha though in semi-retirement. The things he used to get angry over now don’t bother him much. He wants his dinner when he’s hungry and will yowl like the Siamese-Tabby he is. And he wants the best seat in the house…usually in my lap. He’s up around 20# now, and yet considers himself a lap cat. He’s also made friends with Ray, though that took about 11 of the 12 years he’s been with us. I think Ray was more than intimidated by Nick’s size. He’s pretty impressive. And I think Nick thought Ray didn’t like him, so they had a mutual disinterest in each other until Ray started petting Nick and saying hello. This morning Nick walked across Ray’s lap (to get to me) but that’s something that wouldn’t have happened years ago. 

The only thing Nick won’t let me do is clip his nails. He tells me no by gently placing his teeth against my hand. He has never bitten me, scratched me, or turned on me, and so I respect his wishes and don’t clip his nails. I let my vet be the bad guy.

Nick and I mutually love and respect each other. He’s a prime example of what love can do: Literally tame a beast.

Free At Last!

L/R Cookie, Peaches, Opie, Jack, Herman

This morning I got professional permission to stop feeding my cats canned food.

I used to feed my cats kibble with an occasional portion of Unique canned as a treat. Remember Unique? It had nasty fish heads, eyes, bones...I had to break it up before feeding the cats. They loved it of course. I can still hear their lips smacking.

Somewhere along the line I was convinced they had to be on canned food. Exclusively! I was feeding 8+ cats at the time so there was no way financially I could afford that. So I used both wet and dry, and suffered guilt for being a bad mom. I've been adjusting their diets for years, literally chasing my tail in circles because -- according to whatever article or person I'd just spoken to -- what I was feeding was never high-quality enough. And the highest quality I could afford was rejected by my cats with either pawing around the bowl as though they were burying something nasty in their litter box, or vomit strategically placed in order to get my full attention.

Then came the Fancy Feast years. OMG! They loved it! And once they got hooked (like crack its an immediate addiction) I could not get them off. Of course they all had their own purrrsonal preferences. No one care for the Roasted, and the Chunky with Gravy had them licking up the gravy and leaving the chunky for me to mix into the outdoor cat's food. Herman has chronic UTI's so he can't have fish. Barney has umpteen food allergies so I can't feed him fish either (or pork, peas, carrots...endless list). So we all agreed on Classic Chicken. Sometimes Classic Beef. Outside gal, Chauncie, enjoyed Chicken & Liver.

But of course that could all change mid-week, and I'd be left with an expensive assortment of Kitty Crack that would be rejected forevermore. My outdoor cats and the raccoons I nurture enjoyed the rejections however...I can still hear their lips smacking.

I even tried making homemade dinners. Herman loved raw beef and preferred his chicken sauteed with a little Swanson's broth. It was pretty much hit and miss with the others, however. Buddy wants his steak grilled with a nice seasoning. Rib-eye is his choice cut. My husband spoils him enough to bring home take-out.

I was in the process of pulling the Fancy Feast/Kitty Crack...Cold Turkey...and pleading with them to please like Iams...when Herman had his physical at Elmore Road Veterinary Clinic. The topic of his UTI's came up, and Chelsea recommended a special Purina kibble. She assured he'd enjoy it as it wasn't like the Hill's brands that Herman had rejected. And then to my utter shock/delight...she told me all my cats would be better off on kibble only. With canned as an occasional treat.

HUH?

Wasn't I doing that like, 30 years ago?

I spoke with Dr. Ellis today and she agreed with Chelsea, Herman should have the Purina UR kibble, and the rest of the cats should have kibble. Wellness is an excellent choice. And I can mix it in with what they eat now, Purina One SmartBlend with chicken.

What's more, Herman is eating the UR kibble. He rejected the Hill's CD with enthusiasm, but when I assured him the UR was TREATS, he ate them up...smacking his lips.

HAPPY ENDING

for now

Herman enjoying his "treats"