Blogsense: 2011

Cocoa (approx 1996)

Cocoa was born in 1996. To put that date in perspective, I was nine years old, my family had just two years prior moved into a predominately white, middle-class Mormon neighborhood in West Jordan, and Bill Clinton was running for reelection. Other things that happened in 1996:

·Motorola released its wildly-popular StarTAC clamshell mobile phone.
Mel Gibson’s Braveheart won Best Picture at the 68th Academy Awards, hosted by Whoopi Goldberg.
The Nintendo 64 videogame system was released in Japan.
The Comprehensive Nuclear Test Ban Treaty was signed.
The O.J. Simpson trial began in Santa Monica, California.
General Motors released the EV1, an all-electric car, for lease.
The Artist Formerly Known as Prince released his final original album, Chaos and Disorder.

Cocoa (bottom-left) being bitten by Rosey (bottom-right), being watched by my brother, Adam (center) and my mom (top-left) (approx 1996)

Cocoa came to my family from our neighbors. That family’s un-spayed female feline was notorious for roaming the hood, and had apparently gotten some unneutered, gallivanting tomcat all hot and bothered one night. Nine weeks later, Cocoa and the rest of his litter was born.

The family’s then-10ish year-old daughter immediately took a liking to Cocoa, whom she believed to be a girl kitten and therefore named him (as 10 year-old girls are wont to name everything), “Princess.” However, the father of our neighbor’s family would have nothing to do with “Princess” or the rest of his litter, and told the family he was taking the kittens to the “Pet Store.” Of course, where this delightful little euphemism slipped past the daughter and her siblings, my parents knew better. They agreed to rescue “Princess” from what was likely to be an untimely demise at the humane society and keep him as a pet for our family, thereby letting the girl across the street know that “Princess” had a good home and would be well-cared for.

My family has a history of being responsible pet owners, and as responsible pet owners, my parents took “Princess” to the vet for a checkup and to have “her” spayed, only to discover that “Princess” was actually a boy kitten. Unless this cat decided to go to beauty school and start giving other cats fashion advice, the name was clearly not going to stick. Ironically, it was I, the gay boy of the family, who renamed “Princess,” giving him the arguably no more appropriate name, “Cocoa” (whose primary coloring was gray, not brown). And so goes the story of how Cocoa came to be known as the Cat Formerly Known as Princess. (Although, the new name I came up with was at least pronounceable.)

Cocoa (right) with Rosey (left) (approx 1997)

Cocoa quickly gained the reputation of being a tough badass loner who was also a scaredy-cat. He could torment his sister, Rosey (the skinniest, sweetest cat you could ever meet), climb over fences into neighbors’ yards at night, get into fights with any cats whose paths he crossed, and hide out under the stairs in the basement eating spiders. But at the slightest hint of a thunderstorm, a loud truck passing by, or even a stranger entering the house, Cocoa’s confidence would evaporate instantly as he darted under the nearest piece of furniture. Getting shots from our vet (who made house calls) was probably Cocoa’s least favorite experience, especially when my mother wasn’t around. Where two grown men struggled to hold the impossibly big and strong tyrant down long enough to vaccinate him, my mother could easily hold Cocoa in such a way that he could see freedom and his imminent escape and would therefore not struggle.

Cocoa also had a reputation for his, well, ample proportions. Greatly outclassing his peers, Cocoa weighed in at about 15-20 pounds at the peak of his health. Because of his large dimensions, he earned the nickname, “FAT CAT!” which always had to be yelled and never softly spoken. Of course, Cocoa’s weight was part of his character and charm, and this nickname was bestowed with nothing but love and affection, and perhaps a bit of good-natured jocularity. Other than FAT CAT! and the Cat Formerly Known as Princess, Cocoa has been known by several nicknames, including but not limited to, Cocamoke, Cokey, and Coke for short (most of which were invented by my imaginative father).

FAT CAT! and me (approx 1998)

The garage was a favorite hangout for Cocoa. He slept in a cardboard Compaq computer monitor box lined with an old Mighty Morphin Power Rangers bedspread of mine. When he wasn’t sleeping, eating, attacking other cats, roaming the neighborhood under cover of night, or throwing up after binge-eating, Coke loved to roll around in the dirt or on the driveway to scratch himself.

About five years ago, in the middle of the night, I remember waking to the loud sounds of howling, hissing, screaming, and moaning outside my bedroom window. No, it’s not what you’re thinking. Cocoa was fighting with another cat. And apparently losing. When I found him, he had been scratched and/or bitten on his face, which was bleeding. Though we cleaned his wound, it became infected and Cocoa had to undergo minor surgery to treat an abscess. For a short time, he had a tube sticking out of his cheek and no whiskers on one side. However, Cocamoke recovered fairly quickly and resumed all of his usual activities, including fighting with other neighborhood cats.

Scaredy-cat! (approx 1997)

Occasionally we would hear similar sounds in the middle of the night and would have to chase neighbor cats out of the yard or chase Cocoa back to our yard. On more than one occasion we heard Cokey howling and moaning in what sounded like terrible pain, only to find that he had been hanging out in the backyard in the middle of the night and had gotten caught in a corner somewhere when the sprinklers automatically came on.

As he aged, Cocoa developed an array of health concerns, including a serious and progressively worsening case of hyperthyroidism. Though he got a pill forcibly shoved down his throat twice per day, Cocoa’s malfunctioning thyroid caused him to lose a considerable amount of weight and have virtually insatiable hunger all the time. The last few years of his life, Cokey was bony and lost his distinctive pudginess. He would also eventually suffer from seizures and lack of hydration.

King Cocoa on his throne (approx 2001)

In January 2010, after a solid year of searching, Andrew and I finally found and bought a house in Salt Lake City. Shortly thereafter, Cocoa moved in with us, followed by Calliope, the black Labrador Retriever he only barely tolerated. Though initially shy of his new surroundings, especially since he had lived at the same house for 13 years prior (which constituted his entire life up to that point), Cocamoke gradually adjusted to his new environment. No longer allowed to roam the streets freely (due to age, health, and the unsafe nature of the neighborhood), Cocoa never quite adjusted to being an entirely indoor cat. He learned to strategically place himself right around the corner from a door he knew would shortly be opening, and when it did, he would make his dash for freedom! His best escape attempt lasted all of two to three minutes, when he got out the side door, down the driveway, across the street, and two houses down, where I found him sniffing at weeds and scratching his chin on a tree. Despite his new confinement, Coke developed a new routine, which consisted of sleeping on our bed, meowing for food, sleeping in his cardboard box, meowing to be fed, sleeping on the furniture in the basement, always being underfoot in the kitchen so we might notice and feed him, and crawling all over us on our bed when we were trying to sleep.

The last year and a half of Cocoa’s life was a difficult time for him and for us. He lost even more weight, suffered from seizures that left him temporarily paralyzed and blind, was constantly hungry, and suffered from a lack of hydration, which left him constipated and requiring a prescribed, wet food-only diet. His vet and pharmacy bills became sizeable, and his general quality of life began plummeting.

Cocoa in a bag (approx 2004)

In his last couple of weeks, Cocoa stopped being able to have any bowel movements, and slowly lost his appetite altogether. The moment I had been dreading for years was finally at hand. Making the decision to have Cocoa euthanized was one of the most difficult and painful choices I have ever made, but I was unwilling to put Cocoa through any more invasive medical procedures just to extend what would be a life of ever-diminishing quality. Luckily, I have a very loving, supportive husband who helped me by making an appointment and driving us to the vet, all the while standing by me emotionally through this difficult time.

While I stand by my decision to put Cocoa down, having to be the one to make the choice to end another creature’s life has cost me a bit of my own soul. In the end, I was relieved, but I find that Cocoa’s death has left me with a profound sadness and emptiness, as I now feel a void where the presence of this creature whom I spent more years of my life with than without, is now gone. Cocoa was the first pet I called my own, and I shall miss him deeply.

I can only hope that Cocoa’s spirit lives on and that someday it might find me again in the form of another cat. I know that I will recognize him when that happens. Until then, Cocoa, know how much I love you. Goodbye, my friend.

Best friends

Explicit Museum of Sex Photos!!! If you object to fake naked bodies or photos of photos of real naked bodies, please don't scroll down the page. If, however, you enjoy a good laugh and are not offended by the human body in all its glory, feel free to take a look at the fun time we had at the Museum of Sex in New York City!!!

Honey, this one feels just like yours! It's amazing!

Hmmm, now that's a new feeling...

Hehe, boobs...

Wish I had pecks like this dude...at least my pecker is comparable...

Andrew's friend looks unhappy. Why is he unhappy?

Finally! Anatomically correct Barbie dolls!

I know why he's unhappy! Someone stole his pubic hair!

They got hers, too!

Bet you can't guess what this is!

Profile views are the best!

Now that is the best fake ass I have ever seen!

I was going to strip down for this one, but Andrew was afraid we would get kicked out of the museum. I can't understand why, there was nudity and sex all around us!