On Sunday night, we said farewell to our loving, cuddly, sweet, beautiful, and old, cat Oliver, Oli. It was an intense week and a sudden loss. Even though Oli had noticeably felt bad and worse over the last few weeks, his change in the last week was rapid and bad.
A vet’s earlier diagnosis was an issue with his kidneys, for which we were trying to provide, first with special food, then with medication, but a last-minute analysis showed a sever stage of diabetes. We were devastated.

A few months ago, we had brought him with us to Rio de Janeiro, as we’re spending a lot of time for work there, but now, with his quickly deteriorating health, we decided to take him back to our house on the outskirts of Sao Paulo. A real house, as opposed to an apartment, quiet, and with a big garden.
The morning after our arrival, he was in a terrible state, but after a last minute visit to the vet, where it was that diabetes was diagnosed, and where he was rehydrated, he became a bit more lucid, though could neither eat nor walk. We spent the last few days not leaving him alone for one minute, giving and receiving cuddles for days, until we both were present when he breathed his last.
It’s with pain in our hearts and deep sadness that we had to let him go.

Oli only adopted me two and a half years ago, when I came to Sao Paulo, while he’s been livening up Natalia’s life for more than 16.
When he’d spot either of us sitting down, he’d demand to join us, either on our laps, or at least right next to us, touching. At my computer, I had a hard time to keep him away from sitting on top of my keyboard, though he would settle for snoozing inbetween my two screens.
When we would not be at home, we’d leave the window to the outside patio ajar. There, he’d sit on a ledge, looking at, and charming, the people passing by, all taking a minute to give, and receive, some love from this gorgeous cat.
When having dinner, he would require sitting with us. On our laps, sticking his head above the table to make sure we understood he was part of the team.
In Rio, he had started to explore the three story house, on which we occupy a small room on the top floor. The house is used for events and, during the most recent event, Natalia was struggling to keep him from wandering onto the stage, always wanting to be the centre of attention. Then, afterwards, he made a point of sitting in the presenter's chair, presenting himself to the then dwindling audience.
Much earlier, before I knew him, he was a bit of a fighter. A large cat, he was the king of the hill. So much so that someone, when he was only three, very nearly managed to poison the big man. He survived, and lived a good life. But, always, too short.

A fantastic cat. The best cat in the world.

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