Seymour

It is with great sadness that my sister had to help Seymour to the bridge yesterday.

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a3...98/Seymour.jpg

Seymour was an injured stray who jumped into her window one day 8 years ago. He fell face first into the crunchy bowl and ate and ate and ate until he fell asleep in the bowl. When he woke up, he ate some more.

My sister called him Seymour because she hoped to See More of him. Eventually, she gained his trust and was able to treat his wounds. A visit to the vet found that Seymour had suffered from some neurological damage to his rear end. The vet thinks that he was kicked at some point. Seymour always had some issue going to the bathroom, but he managed.

Unfortunately, the nerve damage got progressively worse until he could no longer eliminate. He became very ill and would scream in pain. After several consultations, the vet advised that no surgery could help so Seymour was helped to the bridge.

Seymour-Sink, I will miss your little mew. I will miss your swirls. I will miss your catnip addiction. Rest well sweet boy.

I'm sorry. He sounded like a sweet and special boy.

Rest in Peace Seymour.

I'm so thankful that Seymour found a good home stocked with crunchies and catnip for 8 years. He sounds like he was a wonderful guy. I'm sorry that he was in so much pain in the end but now he is free of all that and hopefully playing and 'crunching' at the Bridge.

I'm so sorry that Seymour had such a painful time before his trip to the Bridge. Now he's through w/all that and having the time of his life, munching and crunching away to his heart's content. RIP, sweet Seymour and peace to your family.

We Had A Special Dinner For New Angels At The Pouncer And Mr Scrappys Tony Romas , And I Know That Seymour Would Love The Big Beefy Ribs, Gravy With Fries And The Tower Of Cheese Cake.
And He Has His Wings Of Silver And Gold And Is With The Pet Angel Army Now, Looking For Adventure And Whatever Comes Thier Way.
And He Will Meet Your Sister And Family And You At A Great Place, Meant Just For You.
One Fine Day.

{{{hugs}}}

Kisses to Seymour. Your mom misses you so much, and knows you are free of pain now - pay her a visit, give her a sign that you are ok, sweetie.

What a beautiful boy! And how fortunate he "fell" into your sister's life like that.:love:

Rest in peace sweet Seymour and I am so glad you had 8 years of love.

I'm so sorry to hear this.:( Now he's at the Bridge and painfree. RIP sweet Seymour.:(

Seymour, you certainly started off your relationship with a BANG!!! What a great memory!
Sleep softly, sweet Seymour...

Seymour, how lucky a bowl of crunchies was just waiting for you to fall into it 8years ago. You found a wonderful home, felt and returned love. Enjoy the Bridge dear one. I am sure there are plenty of bowls all about for you! Such a handsome guy. RIP Seymour. Your humom misses you.

So sad when there is nothing man's medicine can do to help.

You had a good home, and were a very lucky boy.


Godspeed to the Bridge, sweet Seymour

One of Seymour's favorite places to sit and watch the birdies was on top of the coffee pot! As you can see, most of him didn't fit, but he managed somehow.

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a3...mourwindow.jpg

You probably guessed -- but that is a Bunn brand coffee pot. :p

I sure do miss that dude. Rest well, Seymour.

My sister hasn't joined the board, but she wanted me to share more of Seymour's story with you:

My cat, Seymour McGillicuddy, was helped across the rainbow bridge on 08/08/08. He had been suffering from a blocked bladder and bowels since the week prior. Despite treatment by an Emergency Vet, who cleaned him out and began a medication regimen, the situation reoccurred. He was in pain and had become incontinent with his urine and completely unable to defecate despite constantly straining hard. I took him to my regular Vet for follow-up. She looked him over and determined that he was unlikely to recover purposeful use of his bladder and bowels and it was best to help him across the rainbow bridge. The suspected reason was a neurological problem, but the cause was unknown.

Seymour always had a weird butt with some excess pink fatty tissue that would slide across the opening into his way when he tried to defecate. He always had to work really hard to try to empty his bowels. None of the vets who looked at him could identify the weird fatty thing. Blood work and scans indicated it was not a cyst or tumor, so it was considered weird but not harmful and left alone. Seymour always worked hard to poop, but until last week he always managed.

Seymour arrived on the scene about 8 years ago. I spent a week wondering why my existing cat, Molly, had suddenly started eating twice as much. I was refilling her cat feeder twice as often as in the past. Finally the light dawned and I began keeping an eye peeled and an ear open. Sure enough, a scrawny gray cat with stripes was sneaking into my kitchen window late at night and horking down crunchies as fast as possible. Anytime I tried to approach him he streaked back out the window and disappeared. Over the course of the next few weeks I would go outside and put down some food and water talk to him even if I couldn’t see him. With winter coming on, I figured he was staying close by and maybe even living under my deck. I started calling him Seymour just as a play on words – when I called to him I always said “I want to see more of you.” Finally he got brave enough to let me watch him eat outside, but wouldn’t come into the house if he knew I was around. Then one morning I was cooking breakfast and he decisively jumped in the kitchen window and meowed at me until he talked me out of some cooling bacon. After that he purred up a storm and let me pet him and he never left. Once I was able to get a good look at him, I could see he was pretty beat up. His front teeth were knocked out, there was a notch missing out of one ear and he had numerous body wounds. The scratches and scuff marks were probably from fighting with other cats, but there was one clear sign that a human had abused him: there was a groove cut into the flesh around his neck from rope or wire being tied hard enough to cut into him, or he had been hung by it and it cut into his flesh before he managed to escape. I took him to the Vet and we got him all cleaned up and neutered and healthy. He never quit eating, and grew into quite a solid little bruiser.

Seymour was a sweet boy who got along immediately with Molly the cat. For reasons that are impossible to explain, he somehow seemed Irish to me, so I gave him a last name of McGillicuddy. I know this is crazy, but all I can say is it just made sense to me. Seymour was a beautiful gray with distinctive stripes in a variety of patterns. He had multiple black stripes around his neck and chest that I called his “necklaces.” Black and white stripes alternated on his underbelly in a way that caused a checkerboard effect. The stripe patterns on his back legs almost resembled giraffe spots. And on each of his sides he had an oval white ring that almost everyone called a “target.” Of course I assured Seymour it was an “icing swirl.” He had an interesting face: green eyes, white eyeliner, a pink nose, and black lipstick. I always have silly nicknames for my pets, and his “makeup” led to me calling him “my little Goth boy.” His feet and cheeks where his whiskers originated had a slight peachy tinge, so I also called him “Peachy Pads.” He was fascinated by trickling water and loved play in the sink, so I also called him “Seymour Sink.” Seymour loved to chatter, and despite eventually growing into a big solid bruiser, he had an extremely wimpy voice! My sister used to call him “Mike Tyson” as a result. His favorite perch was on top of my Bunn coffee maker’s water tank, where he could soak up the warmth while gazing out of the same kitchen window he had arrived through. He never stopped eating once he arrived and eventually I also called him “Chubby McTubby.”

Seymour came along at a pivotal time for me. I had been through a bad divorce and uprooted from my home and pets a few years before. Things had come full circle and I had just reclaimed my home and pets when he showed up. Maybe it’s wrong to attribute so much to the appearance of a stray cat, but I took Seymour’s trust and willingness to move in with me as the first sign that things were on the upswing in my life, and that my house would once again flourish with love.

My Vet asked if I would consider a necropsy to try to determine what had gone wrong with Seymour, and I agreed in case it might help some other poor critter in the future. The necropsy disclosed that Seymour had a diverticulum off of his intestines -- a separate tube-like fatty pouch that became filled with undigested bad stuff over time that he couldn’t expel. By the scar tissue present, it appeared to be an old injury that healed incorrectly and never quite closed, probably from a bb gun. Whoever abused Seymour likely caused this injury that led to his death 8 years after he managed to escape from them. I hope there is a special rung in Hell reserved for that so-called human being.

Over time, the diverticulum expanded and put increasing pressure on Seymour’s internal organs, eventually causing neurological damage that became permanent. Apparently most of his internal organs were affected, but it wasn’t until his bladder and bowels were impacted that he exhibited any sign of distress. He never complained until then. My Vet verified that it was inoperable and that he would not have recovered, and it was indeed a necessary kindness for him to cross the bridge. I’m grief stricken, but my mind is satisfied that I did the best thing for Seymour, and that is all that matters.

I will never forget the 8 wonderful years he chose to love and trust despite what he endured before he adopted me.