The following post was written by my husband, in memory of our little guy:
I am not a “cat person.”
My mother is allergic to cats, so growing up they were never an option. I never had a family member or friend that had a cat that seemed all that interesting. The ones I did come in contact with were usually aloof, disinterested or downright mean. I remember in my late teens staying at my cousin Jill’s house and not getting one second of sleep, because I spent the night on what was apparently her cat’s couch. The animal proceeded to attack me throughout the night in protest.
So in 2002, while working at WK.TV and a wild, pregnant cat took refuge in the deck outside the station, the fascination my co-workers displayed was lost on me. When my girlfriend suggested that we take a member of the litter, I came up with a thousand reasons why it made no sense. But she won and brought home this tiny, precious little black boy that we called Jasper.
We later learned Jasper was a girl.
I didn’t expect to bond with Jasper. I figured she would be a nice distraction for Ka.rey, during what was a difficult period in our lives. I was unemployed, she was having a hard time at work, we needed mindless fun that could take us away from the cruel world. It wasn’t long that Jasper became more than that. She became our little girl. Without realizing it, she bonded me to Ka.rey and by just being herself she made me a “cat person.”
That following spring, I took a job in Al.bany. Ka.rey and Jasper were coming with me. Syra.cuse had won the national championship, Ka.rey was going to work on her art full time, I was going to be a Monday-Friday anchor in a reasonably sized market and making way more money than I had been in Ut.ica. In honor of our newfound optimism and this second stage of our life, Kar.ey suggested that we get an orange kitten. It was very specific. We would adopt him/her just in time to move into our new apartment. It would give the new kitten a fighting chance against a very territorial Jasper cat.
While Jasper stumbled into our lives, this new cat required an intensive search. We searched shelters and SPCAs looking for this orange kitty that we knew was going to be ours. At one point we had thought we had him. We began filling out the paperwork at the shelter in Rome, when Ka.rey realized that the adoption criteria required that you provide the contact information for your landlord. Our landlord in New Hart.ford didn’t know we had Jasper and we weren’t going to be living there for much longer. We walked away from the application with a plan to come back after we figured a plan adopt the kitten.
We never went back.
At one point Ka.rey started to get frustrated. I know that sounds crazy. There are millions (literally) of cats looking for homes, but shelter after shelter, orange kitty after orange kitty, and we couldn’t seem to connect with any of them. That was until a strange looking volunteer at the SPCA in Spra.kers asked us innocently, “So. you are looking for an orange kitten?”
The woman said that she happened to have a cat at her home, a stray that she had taken in who just gave birth to a litter that she was pretty sure included an orange kitten. She asked us if we wanted to come by her house and see if this kitten was the one we were looking for. Figuring that if she was reputable volunteer, for a reputable agency, that nothing could be wrong with this, we planned a time to meet. Little did we know what we would come next.
A few days later, Ka.rey and I drove out a long country road in Mont.gomery County to the home of this woman. It was one of those places where you have driven out about as far as you think you can and it is still about 10 minutes further. The home looked like something out of an Adams Family episode. A huge, rundown old country home that had animals of all kinds running around outside. I remember looking at Kar.ey and asking her as we walked in, “Are we doing the right thing?”
If this home was sketchy on the outside, what we found inside was even more disturbing. We only made our way into the kitchen, but still were able to count 23 cats, most with some sort of ailment or disability. The house reeked worse than a barn and you almost had to raise your voice in order to be heard over the excited chatter of cats straining for attention from new visitors they had never seen before.
While the SPCA volunteer ran upstairs to get the basket with the litter, her lesbian partner explained to us how they take in disable animals that no one else wants. She gave us the impression that sometimes they even adopted them from the SPCA in cases where it looked like an animal might not make it past the timeframe allotted by the shelter’s euthanasia policy. While they truly had huge hearts, they were clearly off. I can only imagine that Bob Barker spent time in a house like this before he came the host of the “Price is Right”, compelling him to share that spay and neuter message at the end of every program.
Eventually she came down with a tiny basket and inside it revealed at least a dozen cats. Beautiful kittens that each had vibrant colors and wide eyes. They all seemed to look at us and beg them to pull them away from this hellhole. All except one. This tiny orange kitten, the one I came to see. He was so small and pathetic that he was completely hidden under one of his littermates. His right eye was crusted over and he had to have weighed less than a pound. He was unimpressive by just about every measure.
The woman admitted that this orange kitten was in rough shape, but if we were uncomfortable taking him, this gray kitten with big huge eyes was available too. This cat had a deep charcoal color. It almost seemed like her coat had been painted on. She seemed like the better option. Kar.ey and I told the woman we would think about it.
On the drive home, we talked about the two kittens. While we really did want an orange kitty, that one was rather pathetic. We were so afraid we’d adopt him and then he wouldn’t make it for very long. But after reminding ourselves that our dream was to adopt an orange kitten and name it Carmelo after Carmelo Anthony, the star of the Syra.cuse basketball team that just won the National Championship, we agreed that we would take that orange kitty. Kar.ey’s mother confirmed our decision when she told us that have cats of opposite sex, may make the process of introducing the new animal into the family a bit easier.
So we called and set up a time to pick the little man up. He was already Carmelo to us. We had just gotten access to our new hip, downtown apartment and Carmelo was going to get to go their first, so Jasper wouldn’t claim territory. We brought Jasper with us to pick him up. She stayed in the car while we ventured into the spooky house. The woman went up to grab Carmelo. When they came down, he was fast asleep. His eye completely crusted over and scrawny as can be. Ka.rey noticed that the gray kitten we had thought about wasn’t in the basket. The woman told us that Carmelo’s sister had died the day before.
After we learned that news, we seemed to want to rush away from this horrific scene with our new cat and take him away from this disaster. As soon as we got in the car we felt a sense of relief. He was with us now. They couldn’t take him away. As soon as we settled in, Kar.ey held Carmelo up to the carrier Jasper was in and our former only pet, responded with one of her trademark hisses.
The early days with Carmelo were touch and go. He weighed so little and his eye didn’t seem to improve. Kar.ey’s mom suggested that we take him to a vet, which was a smart idea. The vet in Guild.erland threw out this weird eye drop concoction the women had given us and prescribed an anti-biotic for him. He also gave us special kitten food and told us that, the little man was in rough shape, but if we gave him a ton of love and attention, he would be ok.
That may have been the understatement of the century.
Carmelo quickly turned around. He instantly became part of our family. Even Jasper, who at one point had no interest in this little kitten, helped in nurturing him to health. During those early days, we’d often be in search of the cats, only to find Jasper wrapped tight around Carmelo, licking his crusty eye. I am pretty sure that the first time Ka.rey saw the two of them bonding, she broke down in tears.
It was around this time, that Carmelo became my guy. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jasper and Sophie Belle in ways you cannot imagine, but Carmie was my guy. He seemed to sense that the two of us were the only men in the house. He slept above my head every single night. If I was sitting on the couch or chair for any length of time, he was right there to curl up in my lap. 
It wasn’t long into his time with us that I would make note of the fact that Carmelo always chose me. I would look at Ka.rey and say, “The boys got to stick together.” There was no doubt, that whenever I needed to be picked up, my gorgeous little boy was there to take care of me.
One day we noticed that Ka.rey and I had little insect bites all over our arms and legs. We also noticed that the new kitten and Jasper were itching and abnormal amount. Oblivious to the fact that we had pulled Carmelo from an incubator of all the bad things that can happen to pets, our tiny apartment had become infested with fleas. Carmelo had it the worst. I took him out behind the apartment to this tiny outdoor area we had and drenched him in a flea bath. He hated water, like most cats do, but he just let me pick the bugs off of his skin. There were hundreds. I probably did this about 10 times. Each time he would come out of the bath looking like a drowned rat. Eventually we had to take another trip back to the vet. He gave him a dose of flea meds and suggested we insect bomb the apartment. The bugs went away, and Carmelo’s health rapidly improved.
Carmelo got bigger and became such an important part of our lives. As he settled in, the bond between Ka.rey and I became stronger. Even though I should have had the good sense to propose the second I met her, I finally proposed. Carmie was there for the proposal. It was admittedly a poor proposal, conducted in the living room of that tiny apartment. But he seemed to approve. We soon we would become a legitimate family.
I don’t know when we started calling him Carmie. It had to have been early on. He just was too cute to be called by a full formal name. Carmie maintained as we moved from South Swan Street downtown, to a town house in East Greenbush. It was in East Greenbush that the little guy, would routinely sneak out a door and take off into the woods behind the house. He would get so scared as we tried to find him that when he heard his name he’d run in another direction. While his sister seemed to relish the idea of hiding in the woods, it seemed to spook Carmie. After we moved from East Greenbush he never felt compelled to go outside again. Jasper continues to spend her life looking for ways to get out of the house. Carmie could be placed in front of an open door and take a look, and then just wander back to his favorite blanket on top of a chair in the living room.
It was around that time that we decided to move back to Utica. My job situation in Albany had changed dramatically and Ka.rey had been offered a pretty interesting opportunity back there. As we made plans to move back West, Ka.rey began looking for a dog as a Christmas present for her sister Amy. Kar.ey researched kennels and finally settled on a Lhasa apso out of Cobleskill. When we chose “Moon-Pie” to become Amy’s new pet, I could tell that Kar.ey was yearning for something more.
On Christmas night at Ka.rey’s parents in Fort Plain, I found my new wife in a bedroom upstairs with the new puppy. Amy didn’t know about him until that morning and we had essentially become his caregivers for the previous four days. She was upset. She didn’t want to give him away. I tried to comfort her and tell her that this was Amy’s dream. Kar.ey then told me that there was another puppy at the kennel. A girl. She had already picked a name. Sophie Belle.
It pains me to admit this going on 5 years later, but I did not want to adopt Sophie Belle. But the reason that I didn’t want to was because of how much I had grown to love Carmie and Jasper. We were in between jobs and cities. We had plans to move into Kar.ey’s grandparents home, until we found a new house in Uti.ca and our townhouse in East Green.bush did not allow dogs. We were simply not in a practical position to take care of a dog. I knew that once that dog became part of our lives, there was no turning back. I didn’t think we were ready.
Even though we had only been married for a few short months, we had already started the process of trying to have a baby. It was Kar.ey’s only dream in life. She was hoping to be pregnant by Christmas. The holiday came and went with no success. When I finally came around to the idea of adopting Sophie, Ka.rey felt that I had guilted her into it. She decided that it was a bad idea. During that time she had the fleeting hope that she might be pregnant. I told her to take a pregnancy test. If it came back positive we would forget about the dog. If it were negative we’d adopt her.
We picked Sophie Belle up shortly after Kar.ey’s birthday. It was a wonderful time, but we had no idea that it was just the beginning of a long line of negative pregnancy tests.
I wish I could tell you that Sophie Belle’s entry into the mix was as easy on Carmie as his entry was for Jasper. But looking back over the course of their almost 5 year relationship, I can tell you it was difficult. While Jasper was never bothered by Sophie’s crazy personality, Carmie never got comfortable. Even a week before his death, I can recall Carmie, who never hissed at anyone, giving Sophie Belle hell for taunting him. Often times, when things got to hectic, Carmie would retreat up above the cabinets of our kitchen. It was the only place where he was guaranteed refuge from the nutty dog.
When we finally settled in to our house in New Hart.ford, we thought that was going to be our final destination. We were ready to dig in roots. All the pets loved our home. It was in a beautiful neighborhood and it had many rooms and windows where they could perch themselves. I was working a 9-5 shift in local government at the time. Carmie and I had a very predictable pattern. He’d be there waiting for me when I got up and excited to settle into my lap at the end of the day. I could always count on him. He was my guy and during this time the boys always stuck together.
After being in New Hart.ford for about two years, I got a call out of the blue from a talent agency in Texas. They wanted to know if I had any interest in getting back into television. Overall things were okay in Ut.ica, but Ka.rey hated her job and money was increasingly tight. I told them I always kept my options open. They asked for an updated resume of my work. I sent it, assuming I’d never here from them again. A few months later I was on a plane, interviewing for a job in Richmond, VA.
Right before I had accepted the job, we decided to offer Jasper her lifelong dream. We let her become an outdoor cat. It was nerve racking, letting her just walk out the door. But every night, or at least the next morning she would come home. Carmie would wonder where she went, and would often look out the window looking for her to return. He wasn’t bothered by it, and nothing seemed to make Jasper as happy. One day we were with Kar.ey’s parents in Fo.rt Pla.in. We would let Jasper outside there as well. We went on a walk with the dogs and Japser would follow behind. We had done this a couple of times before and never lost site of her. This time though, she took off. We thought nothing of it. She always found her way back to the house.
But this time she didn’t.
Jasper was missing for 3 days. Kar.ey and her family spent the better part of all three days searching around Fo.rt Pla.in for our missing kitty. At one point, Kar.ey’s father, a dignified town attorney, waded down the banks of the local creek in his shirt and tie, after a stray black cat, only to learn that it wasn’t her. I never gave up hope, but I wasn’t optimistic. I will never forget the phone call from my wife on that third day.
“I found her.”
Jasper’s days as an outdoor cat were over.
We ventured down to Richmond a few weeks before I was to start the new gig, to look for a place to live. Finding apartments wasn’t easy because, while most places were open to the idea of two pets, three seemed over the limit. At one point we contemplated the idea of leaving Jasper in Fort Plain until we bought a house. That thought now seems ridiculous. Luckily, the wide open market allowed us to wheel and deal and eventually we were set to move to Midl.othian, VA. our family intact.
I went down a week before Ka.rey and took Carmie and Jasper with me. The ride down was so easy. The two cuddled up in the back of my truck and didn’t make a peep. They had the run of our luxury apartment for a full week. All I had was a TV, an air mattress, and my two kitties.
One day, Carmie was nowhere to be found. I look above the cabinets and he wasn’t there. I called and called for him until finally I heard faint cry. It led me into the front closet where the hot water tank was stored. Stuck behind it and the wall, all the way at the bottom, was my little man. He was so helpless. This would be a good time to explain that our weak, pathetic kitten had become a fat, handsome cat. The space between the wall and the hot water tank was tiny and Carmie was not. It took me several hours to concoct a strategy to get him out. I didn’t admit it at the time, but I was so worried about him. I held him a lot closer after that experience.
As those who know him can tell, Carmie liked to eat. But his eating patterns were very unpredictable. He’d spend a day picking at his food, or eat an entire bowl in one sitting. I never had a schedule for feeding him. I didn’t have to. While Jasper complains about everything, the only time Carmie ever complained was when he wanted me to fill up his food bowl. Even up until his final days, I never learned to fill the bowl before I went to bed. If I didn’t I would get a gentle pat on my forehead and open my eyes to see him staring at me. I knew what he wanted and would always oblige. While I complained about it at the time, I never remembered to fill the bowl before bed. Perhaps I liked the reminder that even while I was sleeping Carmie needed me. I am pretty sure that for some time, I am going to find myself waking up at 3:30am with a pit in my stomach.
Carmie or Carmie J as he became to be known, why I’m not sure, spent the final two years of his life being there for me during a happy, but very tumultuous time. While my career and our life in Richmond has become more than we could’ve ever hoped for, our struggle to have a baby is the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with. It causes an emotional strain on Kar.ey and me that few people understand. We are always walking a tightrope of despair and that often leads us to fight over stupid things like the tone of our voice or how much money is in the checkbook.
Every time we fight, or every time we have a visible struggle. A failed pregnancy test, a new diagnosis of the problem, or worst of all learning the news that another couple has easily conceived by barely trying, Carmie was there. If I was upset, he always seemed to know. Even though it seems I haven’t stopped crying since he left me, I am not a crier by nature. I didn’t have to cry, for Carmie to know I was upset. When I was at my lowest he would find me and just be there. Oh how I long for that now.
I knew something was wrong the Sunday before he died. A cat was crying and we assumed it was Jasper. I went out to the kitchen and saw her just sitting there, unbothered. I didn’t even notice Carmie lying in pain under the table. I picked Jasper up and brought her into the bedroom. Not long after the pained cry came again. I went back into the kitchen and my eyes locked with Carmie’s. He wasn’t right. I could just tell. I bent down to pet him and he gave me an angry meow. Something I had never heard before. I didn’t tell Ka.rey at the time, and I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I knew he wasn’t going to be around for much longer.
We spent all Sunday worrying and researching things on the Internet. Everything seemed to say that while he was sick, he wasn’t exhibiting symptoms that warranted an emergency. We decided to wait until Monday morning to get him to the vet. I left him by himself away from the other animals with a litter box and food, hoping that each time I went in that I would find the bowls empty and the little box full. That never happened.
Monday morning I came in and found him sprawled out on the floor, his little box dumped over and he was clearly in pain. I knelt down on the floor and saw gook of some kind coming out of his mouth and eye. I knew he was in trouble. I gently rubbed the spot on his head between his eyes. That was His favorite spot to be touched. I promised him that I would make him better.
I wouldn’t let Kar.ey say goodbye. I told her that he would be back soon. The vet agreed. She said he had a blockage in his bladder, but it was easily fixed. She had to put him under and give him antibiotics, but he’d be back as good as new by Wednesday.
I was so relieved, but still nervous. When the vet called the first time, I had a pit in my stomach. But she just wanted to let me know that they had cleared the blockage and he was doing great. They were worried he might have diabetes, but the test came back negative. My little man would be home by Wednesday.
I posted on my twitter page, the news that Carmie was going to be just fine and ran out to take care of some errands. When I walked into the grocery store, I had this ugly feeling that it wasn’t going to be okay. I dismissed the thought and came home and got ready for work.
Then the call came. “I’m sorry Mr. Nob.les, but Carmie has passed away.”
“WHAT?”
Kar.ey came rushing in, she wanted to know, and I had to tell her. He was dead.
The last 24 hours have been a blur. I have come to fear this day since my brother in law told the story of losing his cat Marvin. I never read his account from start to finish because it seemed too close to Carmie and me. The pain that he described was so raw and unrelenting. It is just a cat. It is just a cat. But he was my guy. It is worse than I could ever imagine.
I am embarrassed, I feel weak. I am disappointed in how I have reacted. We have huge problems in the world and in our lives. Why is this destroying me?
I love my wife so much. Our pets are our only living breathing evidence of our eternal bond and now one is gone. I just want him back. I want to hold him and protect him and share my love for him with the world.
Carmie J. I love you so much. You were one of the four most important things in the world to me. I am so sorry I couldn’t save you.
I have to begin to come to grips with this. My little boy is gone.
Carmie is dead.
We will always love you, Carmie J!
