Pepperoni, Kitty Kitty, Rambo, Ramboni, Rambi, Bubba, Buddy, Rams, Ram, Baby Kitty. These are all names for the cat that I adopted at 29, my best friend. He would answer to all of them, though some he liked more than others. “Baby kitty” was sure to start a wrestling match, but “Kitty Kitty!” would have him running to me from anywhere in the house.
I unfortunately had to put down my first born fur baby yesterday. Rambo was around 3 years old when I adopted him in 2014, and has been through most of my big life changes with me, 5 homes, 4 moves, living without me while I did travel nursing assignments, BSN, MSN, working from home, and he was always there. A year ago he was diagnosed with lymphoma, hyperthyroidism, and possible tumors in his sinus/ear canal. The prognosis wasn’t good, and information online said they usually got 6 months. I didn’t want to give up on him yet.
We knew he was terminal, his ear had ruptured, he had lost 5 pounds, and was unrecognizable. So we made the decision to not force him to take meds, not force-feed him, and let him live his best life on Prednisolone, methimazole, and Prozac as long as he would take them. Until he was ready. For a year I went through countless treat types finding the ones he would eat without finding the pills inside and sometimes even breaking them in half to put the pills in the middle and Frankensteining them with pill paste. If he caught on, he wouldn’t eat those treats ever again. That was his way. The only way.
Rambo was different. He wasn’t like most cats you meet that are happy to be there and were ok with going with the flow, no, not him. He demanded attention, took space where he wanted it, and when it was time to eat, he let you know. But he wasn’t mean, he was kind, gentle, and loved people. He was somewhere between cat and human, like he understood more than you’d give him credit for, but he also couldn’t help chasing a hair tie. He was a once-in-a-lifetime cat.
12 years ago on September 21st, 2014, I walked into a PetSmart to look for an orange male cat. I didn’t find any orange cats, but I did see a back paw and tail hanging off of one side of a cat tree and a front paw and head hanging off the other side. I remember thinking “there’s no way that’s one cat, it HAS to be two cats sharing that half pipe.” I read the sign, “Pepperoni.” “No way,” I thought.
I flagged down an employee and asked if I could meet him, she said to fill out an adoption application first, that would allow them to consider me as an option to adopt him and that there would be a 3 day waiting period and they would let me know. I filled out the paper and she led me into the holding area, explaining to me that he was very food motivated but he was extremely sweet. He had been “rescued” from the dumpster of a Pizza Hut and lived on a steady diet of pizza and wings, which earned him the name Pepperoni. She opened the door to the enclosure and said “come here kitty, want a treat?” I could not believe how big the cat that meowed, stood up and stretched, and calmly descended the tower was. He was grey with black stripes, with a white nose, chin, chest and belly. A very handsome boy.
We went into the meeting area where there was a bench and he followed. I sat down on the bench and he immediately jumped up and walked onto my lap and sat down. I sat there petting him for what seemed like forever while he made the loudest purring sounds I had ever heard and felt. “I don’t think he’s ever reacted to anyone this way before,” she said, “So I think you can take him home today if you want?”
We were inseparable. He was my first cat, he was all mine. I named him Rambo, it fit him. He wanted nothing more than to sit on me, purr, and get pets for hours and hours. He loved feeding time. He was about 18lbs when I got him, lean and mean. He was 24.5lbs at his heaviest, living in our apartment, when he stopped being allowed to go in and out as he pleased because the road was so close and the stray cats outside.
When the pandemic hit in 2020, I had to start travel nursing. I had to leave him because bringing him on the assignments in the places I was going was not an option. The world was falling apart and he needed stability. I came back to see him often and he was sad when I wasn’t there. The first few months were rough, the apartment we lived in just never fit him and he wasn’t a fan of the roommate’s dog. He was alone much of the time in my room until my girlfriend, Alyssa, came to stay the night with him and give him pets and love. He was sad but he never complained. When I came home he was over the moon, and I knew I had to change things for him.
When I bought the condo and he had his own place to himself he was king of the castle. He was so happy to have me home again, even if for just a few weeks. I had to leave again for 3 months and that meant not seeing me everyday anymore. He was sad again but he never complained.
Alyssa would spend most days and nights there taking care of him, but even though he loved her, he missed me. It was breaking him. To help him stay active, we adopted Teddy in summer of 2021. I was home between travel assignments and I knew I’d be leaving in a few months and he always wanted a kitten to love. He raised Teddy like a son. They were two peas in a pod. He never complained about sharing space or treats or attention. Even with me being gone, he was sad, but he didn’t complain. He was always there when I came home, so happy to see me. His eyes would light up when he realized it was me and he wouldn’t leave my side, sitting on me like the first day I met him.
When we moved into the house, he had even more space. I stopped travel nursing and was home full-time, so the kitties were happy. He and Teddy were so relieved to have such a big house and even bringing Alyssa’s cat into the house wasn’t a big deal because they had so much space. When Lewis, an 8-month-old kitten, showed up and never left, we brought him inside and Rambo did what he does best, he took him in and taught him how to wrestle. He showed Lewis how to annoy Teddy and Nani, how to lay in the way, and how to demand attention. All the while, he never complained.
After he got sick, last fall, he was never the same. He would isolate, was grumpy, and slept most of the day, but he would still always come when he was called and would sit and purr for hours on my lap while I pet him. He still never complained. Every so often I would sit with him and pet him wherever he was and cry and tell him to please let me know when he was ready to go. He would purr and rub my beard with his face telling me it was ok. He was comforting me like he always did. He wanted to stay longer. He hadn’t had enough pets and time in my lap purring yet.
Tuesday night he stopped eating and never turned around. His demeanor changed and he wasn’t happy anymore. He walked to his bowl and sniffed it and turned away. He stopped taking treats. He had slowly declined over the last few months and by Friday morning I could tell he was ready. He looked into my eyes and I could see that he had had enough. Even though he rubbed on my beard, it was different, he was telling me he was ready. He was still comforting me. I called and made the appointment for an in-home euthanasia. It was the toughest thing I have ever had to do.
I never wanted him to be scared or stressed and be put down in the veterinary offices he hated so much, or have to suffer through the terrifying car rides that were his only fear. He spent the last days of his life in my lap, purring, being brushed and pet.
For his final meal, we ordered pizza and wings, his favorite. He had 3 or 4 bites and then he turned and let me know he had had enough. He slept at my feet one final time. In the morning he sat with me on the couch and purred weakly as I brushed him with his favorite brush. He had one final lick of Churu and that was enough for him.
The vet was amazing. She came in and listened to his story, pet him, and explained the process. She gave him plenty of time with us and asked when it was the right time. She gave him a ketamine cocktail and let us spend his last moments petting him, talking to him, and was extremely empathetic, reassuring, and kind. Not once did I feel like I was rushed. I got to pet him for a long time while he looked more peaceful than he had in years. She took a paw print and some hair clippings from wherever I wanted them for me to be able to remember him forever. Teddy gave him some final comforting licks goodbye and Lewis sniffed him and sat next to him watching calmly.
When it was time, he passed looking into my eyes while I told him I loved him, how much he meant to me, how much he was loved and would be missed by everyone, and that he was the best kitty I could have ever asked for. I thanked him for all of the time and love he gave me and I could tell that he saw me, really saw me, and was relieved I was there with him. After he passed I got to hold him one last time, tuck him in, and carry him out to the car for his final trip.
I shared his last Churu with Teddy, Nani, and Lewis in silence. One last Churu for the Council.
I am very sad and will be for a while, maybe forever, but I am also relieved that I was able to take his pain away while he was at home and surrounded by his family. Everywhere I look I see him. He was such a presence in my life for the last 12 years. I honestly could not have asked for a better way to have sent him off. It was perfect. Hug your fur babies today and think about Rambo, the kitty that always showed up for me when I needed it. He was the best kitty. My best friend.
Rambo 2011-2026