My Champion - Nimar NimarusRex
Nimar was our first Savannah cat. The circumstances surrounding discovering the breed were sort of amusing. A good friend and I were joking about quitting our jobs to raise cats (it was an angsty day for both of us at work, and we were jokingly discussing employment options that involved things we loved, so naturally cats came up). I sent an email to the BigMan informing him of my new career path and we both started (jokingly) researching breeds. At the same time we each discovered the Savannah cat and our emails crossed in cyberspace with this news.
While the idea of becoming any sort of feline breeder was indeed a silly fancy, the two of us spent some time that night researching, reading, looking for breeders. Before long a deposit was placed and we were waiting on a litter of F1 kittens to be born.
The breeder we were working with had two litters at about the same time (September 2006). A female kitten was a prerequisite, but that litter did not survive. The boy from the other litter was eventually offered to us and in January 2007 we were on our way to Ohio to pick him up.
Nimar was tiny but sturdy and a bit crazy, and a little shy. But he was so beautiful, and it was so very exciting. He came home with us and after a short adjustment period, he was climbing all over his new papa to play with toys. He took up regular residence on the computer monitor while we gamed (until he out grew even the largest monitor in the house). He was crazy, more stubborn than anyone or anything I have ever met, exceptionally social and never failed, daily, to make us laugh.
While the idea of becoming any sort of feline breeder was indeed a silly fancy, the two of us spent some time that night researching, reading, looking for breeders. Before long a deposit was placed and we were waiting on a litter of F1 kittens to be born.
The breeder we were working with had two litters at about the same time (September 2006). A female kitten was a prerequisite, but that litter did not survive. The boy from the other litter was eventually offered to us and in January 2007 we were on our way to Ohio to pick him up.
Nimar was tiny but sturdy and a bit crazy, and a little shy. But he was so beautiful, and it was so very exciting. He came home with us and after a short adjustment period, he was climbing all over his new papa to play with toys. He took up regular residence on the computer monitor while we gamed (until he out grew even the largest monitor in the house). He was crazy, more stubborn than anyone or anything I have ever met, exceptionally social and never failed, daily, to make us laugh.
He ended up being a large cat, knee high on me and 20+ lbs. He could jump on top of the fridge in one floating jump (made from a sitting position), and we clocked him at nearly 40mph running in the house. And he played, all day every day. Nimar was always into something. I have so very many stories to tell about his antics, when I am ready.
In the summer of 2014 he started getting a runny nose. He was very congested and we took him to the vet. He was giving antibiotics and we went home. A few months later it was worse, so we went back (our cats never lack for proper care). They had to sedate him, do a sinus flush and obtain a culture. It was a pseudomonas infection. It would clear after a flush, but come back within a few weeks. At this time, all else still seemed healthy, at least on the surface.
We saw several specialists, had several more flushes, tried oral and subcutaneous antibiotics. Nothing would last more than a few weeks. In March of 2015, our specialist started discussing some fairly terrifying procedures that would ream out his nasal passages and hopefully allow them to better drain. Just after that, he suddenly dropped weight, started drinking more and bloodwork showed that he was now a raging diabetic.
The next several months were an attempt to control the new condition. This included an all too brief period of respite when we got him on insulin (and switched his diet around), followed by a stay of several days in the ICU with diabetic ketoacidosis. When he came back home we upped his insulin.
In the summer of 2014 he started getting a runny nose. He was very congested and we took him to the vet. He was giving antibiotics and we went home. A few months later it was worse, so we went back (our cats never lack for proper care). They had to sedate him, do a sinus flush and obtain a culture. It was a pseudomonas infection. It would clear after a flush, but come back within a few weeks. At this time, all else still seemed healthy, at least on the surface.
We saw several specialists, had several more flushes, tried oral and subcutaneous antibiotics. Nothing would last more than a few weeks. In March of 2015, our specialist started discussing some fairly terrifying procedures that would ream out his nasal passages and hopefully allow them to better drain. Just after that, he suddenly dropped weight, started drinking more and bloodwork showed that he was now a raging diabetic.
The next several months were an attempt to control the new condition. This included an all too brief period of respite when we got him on insulin (and switched his diet around), followed by a stay of several days in the ICU with diabetic ketoacidosis. When he came back home we upped his insulin.
Did I mention earlier that he was a total butthead? I love him more than anything, but seriously, this cat was a butthead. It was impossible at first to take his blood sugar. We were lucky to even get his insulin shots in him. And pilling him? Heck no. He still was at full fighting strength, still fast as lightning and still his crazy self. To say that his condition was hard to manage was an understatement. He was a stubborn, large hybrid cat. Everything we loved best about him when he was healthy made it harder to manage him when he was sick.
I will say that we were determined. We made it work. We got his shots in him (and eventually, he quit caring about those). Eventually I even managed to get him to the point that doing blood sugar readings was no big deal at all (for him or us). I can out stubborn a Savannah cat if it is for his own good. There was a great deal of lost sleep. Heck, there is still a great deal of lost sleep. I had to learn to be a morning person when I am anything but that. Our schedules were rearranged so that we never were late with an injection. Vacations were altered or cancelled. We made it work.
And I will absolutely say that even with all of this craziness, he still had a wonderful life. He had to learn to travel with us. Fortunately, he was always curious and had little fear. He learned to adapt well to new places. He played, he followed us around, he still met us at the door every night after work. He was my Champion and his papa’s Little Dude.
Back to the diabetes, it was nearly unmanageable. We kept increasing dose in insulin, and switched from Prozinc to Lantus. That change helped a little but his hunger was off the charts. Before he got sick he was eating 5-7 small cans of cat food a day (large, high energy cats need a lot of food). With the high blood sugar he was eating 14+ cans on some days.
Our veterinary specialist, who is an amazing, incredible woman was also losing sleep. She was consulting with universities, researchers, the RVC in London, to try to find an answer to why he was not responding to treatments. Eventually, she ordered a test for a condition called Acromegaly, and it came back off-the-charts positive and the condition was confirmed with a CT scan.
Nimar had a tumor on his pituitary gland. This type of tumor spews out a growth hormone that can wreck havoc on pretty much any system in the body. It can cause organs to grow abnormally and it can cause insulin resistance (resulting in a cat that needs more and more insulin to not have ketoacidosis).
The BigMan spent time researching treatment options, had many discussions with our vet and then tirelessly researched places where these could be performed. Standard radiation was not a feasible an option for Nimar because it would mean being knocked out 5 times a week for 6 weeks. Removal of the tumor and pituitary was not an option because of the chronic sinus infection. CyberKnife (a highly specialized type of treatment that precisely targets the tumor) was the best choice and the BigMan immediately made plans to have the procedure performed.
Nimar’s tumor was about one for the record books. It was over 22mm wide. It was a good thing he was a large, hybrid cat as a normal cat skull would not even have room for that mass at all.
I will say that we were determined. We made it work. We got his shots in him (and eventually, he quit caring about those). Eventually I even managed to get him to the point that doing blood sugar readings was no big deal at all (for him or us). I can out stubborn a Savannah cat if it is for his own good. There was a great deal of lost sleep. Heck, there is still a great deal of lost sleep. I had to learn to be a morning person when I am anything but that. Our schedules were rearranged so that we never were late with an injection. Vacations were altered or cancelled. We made it work.
And I will absolutely say that even with all of this craziness, he still had a wonderful life. He had to learn to travel with us. Fortunately, he was always curious and had little fear. He learned to adapt well to new places. He played, he followed us around, he still met us at the door every night after work. He was my Champion and his papa’s Little Dude.
Back to the diabetes, it was nearly unmanageable. We kept increasing dose in insulin, and switched from Prozinc to Lantus. That change helped a little but his hunger was off the charts. Before he got sick he was eating 5-7 small cans of cat food a day (large, high energy cats need a lot of food). With the high blood sugar he was eating 14+ cans on some days.
Our veterinary specialist, who is an amazing, incredible woman was also losing sleep. She was consulting with universities, researchers, the RVC in London, to try to find an answer to why he was not responding to treatments. Eventually, she ordered a test for a condition called Acromegaly, and it came back off-the-charts positive and the condition was confirmed with a CT scan.
Nimar had a tumor on his pituitary gland. This type of tumor spews out a growth hormone that can wreck havoc on pretty much any system in the body. It can cause organs to grow abnormally and it can cause insulin resistance (resulting in a cat that needs more and more insulin to not have ketoacidosis).
The BigMan spent time researching treatment options, had many discussions with our vet and then tirelessly researched places where these could be performed. Standard radiation was not a feasible an option for Nimar because it would mean being knocked out 5 times a week for 6 weeks. Removal of the tumor and pituitary was not an option because of the chronic sinus infection. CyberKnife (a highly specialized type of treatment that precisely targets the tumor) was the best choice and the BigMan immediately made plans to have the procedure performed.
Nimar’s tumor was about one for the record books. It was over 22mm wide. It was a good thing he was a large, hybrid cat as a normal cat skull would not even have room for that mass at all.
At some point, I will go into detail about the trips to Philly and the incredible professionals we met there, but I will say that in August of 2015 we had the treatment done and, as always, he rebounded instantly and was back to his old self for a week. Our joy was short lived when he started having seizures. I have never seen anything so terrifying. We rushed him to the ER and he spent the next 11 nights there.
11 nights. It was terrible. The tumor had a rare side effect to the treatment and swelled up and ruptured. They did not think he would make it, but we persisted. He had gone completely blind (in retrospect, we realized then that he had already started to lose his sight, but he was so adaptable and so wickedly smart that we missed the signs). We went every morning and evening to visit him. He was drugged up, sightless, and his weight was down considerably but he still knew us. His ears still twitched back when he heard us talking to him. He was still fighting, and so would we.
His seizures were less frequent (hard to tell with the number of medications he was on), and we eventually were at a point where we had to bring him home and take our chances on managing the condition ourselves. It was with trepidation that the vets released him, but they were all hoping for a miracle too. They were all fighting for him as much as we were.
We took him home and had the back bathroom set up for him (as he was blind and drugged). It was much like his quarantine area when he was a kitten. We took him from the crate and laid him on a cat bed we had put near his litter box. He could only toddle a few steps at a time before flopping over and snoring for a bit and we did not want him to have to go far for anything until he was better.
That amazing little guy immediately got up off the cat bed, wobbled to the litter box (which he had no issue finding), stepped shakenly into it, and fell out. He got up, stepped in again, and fell out. The third time he did his business and the wobbled past me… right out the door, across the hall and into the computer room to the cat bed there (which was his preferred napping spot when we were home). He flopped onto the bed and started snoring.
At that moment, we knew that bringing him home was the correct decision. (And I have to note that the vet was amazed to hear that story and was even more amazed as his resilience.)
For the next two weeks we were on a schedule of meds every few hours. I think we were doing 18 different medications in total. We took turns working from home to manage it and I slept on the floor with him at night in the computer room. He would wrap himself around my head to sleep and if he got up he would sometimes get confused and just stand there and chirp. Sometimes he would walk blindly into a corner and yell at the wall to move. When the chirps started, I would pick him up, drape his head on my shoulder and rock him until he snored and I could put him down.
We had a couple of rough months, but we managed the medication, eventually weaning him off of everything but the insulin and one anti-seizure medication (he was originally on two of those). He improved and once he was less drugged, his sightlessness did not matter. He went back to his normal bouts of running through the house, climbing the cat tree and pestering Isis. Nimar was back to be our constant companion, and still was making us laugh every day.
That winter we had an MRI done to see if the tumor had shrunk and, indeed, it appeared to be half the size it was before. As it receded, some of his vision was even returning!
11 nights. It was terrible. The tumor had a rare side effect to the treatment and swelled up and ruptured. They did not think he would make it, but we persisted. He had gone completely blind (in retrospect, we realized then that he had already started to lose his sight, but he was so adaptable and so wickedly smart that we missed the signs). We went every morning and evening to visit him. He was drugged up, sightless, and his weight was down considerably but he still knew us. His ears still twitched back when he heard us talking to him. He was still fighting, and so would we.
His seizures were less frequent (hard to tell with the number of medications he was on), and we eventually were at a point where we had to bring him home and take our chances on managing the condition ourselves. It was with trepidation that the vets released him, but they were all hoping for a miracle too. They were all fighting for him as much as we were.
We took him home and had the back bathroom set up for him (as he was blind and drugged). It was much like his quarantine area when he was a kitten. We took him from the crate and laid him on a cat bed we had put near his litter box. He could only toddle a few steps at a time before flopping over and snoring for a bit and we did not want him to have to go far for anything until he was better.
That amazing little guy immediately got up off the cat bed, wobbled to the litter box (which he had no issue finding), stepped shakenly into it, and fell out. He got up, stepped in again, and fell out. The third time he did his business and the wobbled past me… right out the door, across the hall and into the computer room to the cat bed there (which was his preferred napping spot when we were home). He flopped onto the bed and started snoring.
At that moment, we knew that bringing him home was the correct decision. (And I have to note that the vet was amazed to hear that story and was even more amazed as his resilience.)
For the next two weeks we were on a schedule of meds every few hours. I think we were doing 18 different medications in total. We took turns working from home to manage it and I slept on the floor with him at night in the computer room. He would wrap himself around my head to sleep and if he got up he would sometimes get confused and just stand there and chirp. Sometimes he would walk blindly into a corner and yell at the wall to move. When the chirps started, I would pick him up, drape his head on my shoulder and rock him until he snored and I could put him down.
We had a couple of rough months, but we managed the medication, eventually weaning him off of everything but the insulin and one anti-seizure medication (he was originally on two of those). He improved and once he was less drugged, his sightlessness did not matter. He went back to his normal bouts of running through the house, climbing the cat tree and pestering Isis. Nimar was back to be our constant companion, and still was making us laugh every day.
That winter we had an MRI done to see if the tumor had shrunk and, indeed, it appeared to be half the size it was before. As it receded, some of his vision was even returning!
His blood sugar was still a constant battle, as was the chronic snots, but he was the same amazing companion he always was. He played, he was a pain in the ass, he followed us everywhere. Aside from shots (we were doing 2 types of insulin at this point), he was still the ruler of the world.
He became used to the traveling (we had weekly vet visits after the seizures), eventually bi-weekly, and then monthly, and finally visits were spaced months apart. He went to the cabin with us every weekend and we took him camping (he loved the motorhome). We were never, ever without him.
In the fall of 2016 we went back to the CyberKnife facility for a follow-up scan. So many things were still improving, but the blood sugar was completely out of control still. Massive amounts of insulin barely touched it. The results of the scan were good, but not what we had hoped. The tumor was 60% smaller than the pre-treatment size, but still there. We were starting to weigh the options of treating him again in hopes of eradicating it, versus the risk of him having another swelling/rupture issue (which he very likely would not survive a second time). He was healthy otherwise. All of his blood work was perfect. He was still active, and still a butthead and still doing all of his Nimar things.
He became used to the traveling (we had weekly vet visits after the seizures), eventually bi-weekly, and then monthly, and finally visits were spaced months apart. He went to the cabin with us every weekend and we took him camping (he loved the motorhome). We were never, ever without him.
In the fall of 2016 we went back to the CyberKnife facility for a follow-up scan. So many things were still improving, but the blood sugar was completely out of control still. Massive amounts of insulin barely touched it. The results of the scan were good, but not what we had hoped. The tumor was 60% smaller than the pre-treatment size, but still there. We were starting to weigh the options of treating him again in hopes of eradicating it, versus the risk of him having another swelling/rupture issue (which he very likely would not survive a second time). He was healthy otherwise. All of his blood work was perfect. He was still active, and still a butthead and still doing all of his Nimar things.
A few weeks after the scan though, something changed. One pupil was suddenly blown open again (as they were when he was totally blind). He was starting to spin before doing anything. He was having issues making right hand turns and would spin (as if in a traffic round-about) till he was facing the direction he wanted to go. He still followed us around, still played, still tormented Isis. But things were off. We went back in December 2016 for another scan which actually showed very little change but it was enough that the thought was that the tumor might be growing again. We started a course of prednisone to try to combat any swelling that might be making things worse. It helped a little with the spins, but in all of the bizarrely ironic occurrences, his blood sugar finally came down into a “normal” range.
Over the next few months, we started seeing other issues. For example, he would occasionally stumble. This did not stop him from playing with his favorite toys or from hunting mice. It did not stop him from following us around the house or trying to “help” with any projects we were undertaking. March 2017 brought with it an ultrasound that showed a very large, unusual cyst on his pancreas, a spleen with a “moth eaten” appearance, cysts on one kidney, and other inter things that were "off". His bloodwork, as always, was still perfect.
Over the next few months, we started seeing other issues. For example, he would occasionally stumble. This did not stop him from playing with his favorite toys or from hunting mice. It did not stop him from following us around the house or trying to “help” with any projects we were undertaking. March 2017 brought with it an ultrasound that showed a very large, unusual cyst on his pancreas, a spleen with a “moth eaten” appearance, cysts on one kidney, and other inter things that were "off". His bloodwork, as always, was still perfect.
Further treatment for the tumor was off the table because there were too many other complications at this point. We still believed that we had years left with our little guy because he was just still himself in so many was and was just doing amazingly well despite all of the odds. We did decide at this time to try an experimental medication that the RVC was using for treatment of acromegaly. Pasireotide is a very effective combatant of this disease, but the price is out of reach ($12,000 a year), so they have been doing research on some less costly options and this one, Carbergoline, was one that we opted to try.
I have to say that for us it was working amazingly well. We got Nimar’s raging blood sugar down to completely NORMAL levels (finally) and reduced our 120u of Levemir, plus 20 units of R, dose down to 70u Levemir and no R. I think we would have gotten further dosage reductions had we been able to work with it longer.
Sadly, that was not meant to be. We had a busy spring, including several camping trips with our favorite traveling buddy, but the week before Memorial Day his coordination was much worse. He was less active. His spinning spells were much longer than usual. He was still a champion though. He ate well. His litter box habits were (as always) impeccable. He even played a little. But over the weekend it got worse. We actually took him to the vet that Sunday, thinking it was "time" (he could not walk that morning, and refused his favorite foods of snow crab and shrimp). He made another of his miraculous recoveries in the car on the way there. Got up, walked around, ate a can of food, tried to crawl into the front seat. We were laughing through our tears.
The vet told us then that there was fluid in his abdomen that was building up. She said the day was coming, but it wasn’t that day. (I think that given the number of miraculous recoveries he made before that anyone would have been reluctant to make that step too soon.)
We went home thinking we had weeks, if not months. But the next day he was done. He knew it. We knew it. And with broken hearts we made that journey again. There was no second guessing at that point, and we knew that we absolutely did every thing for him that we possibly could. Most of it, I would absolutely do the same way, if it were possible to do it all again. He had 2 more years of life (and a good one at that) after the diagnosis, and we had 2 more years of hysterical, beautiful memories.
I just never thought I could possibly lose him this soon. He was not even 11 yet and every day I miss him as much as the day before.
I will say that is not really the end of Nimar’s story. He affected everyone who met him in so many ways. There are vets that have learned so very much because of working with him (as a hybrid) and with his condition (acromegaly along with his assorted medical quirks). He change who I am as a person, as I never imagined that I would go to such lengths for anyone. He has even made people who never even met him in person laugh with the stories of his stubbornness and comedic antics. I plan to tell some of these stories in this blog eventually. They make me laugh and smile to remember.
And of course, it is also not the end because if we had not had our lives so wonderfully captured by Nimar, we would not now have Siada, the little princess who will carry on the legacy of Emperor Nimar NimarusRex. Perhaps someday we will even find a Savannah brother for her as well.
I have to say that for us it was working amazingly well. We got Nimar’s raging blood sugar down to completely NORMAL levels (finally) and reduced our 120u of Levemir, plus 20 units of R, dose down to 70u Levemir and no R. I think we would have gotten further dosage reductions had we been able to work with it longer.
Sadly, that was not meant to be. We had a busy spring, including several camping trips with our favorite traveling buddy, but the week before Memorial Day his coordination was much worse. He was less active. His spinning spells were much longer than usual. He was still a champion though. He ate well. His litter box habits were (as always) impeccable. He even played a little. But over the weekend it got worse. We actually took him to the vet that Sunday, thinking it was "time" (he could not walk that morning, and refused his favorite foods of snow crab and shrimp). He made another of his miraculous recoveries in the car on the way there. Got up, walked around, ate a can of food, tried to crawl into the front seat. We were laughing through our tears.
The vet told us then that there was fluid in his abdomen that was building up. She said the day was coming, but it wasn’t that day. (I think that given the number of miraculous recoveries he made before that anyone would have been reluctant to make that step too soon.)
We went home thinking we had weeks, if not months. But the next day he was done. He knew it. We knew it. And with broken hearts we made that journey again. There was no second guessing at that point, and we knew that we absolutely did every thing for him that we possibly could. Most of it, I would absolutely do the same way, if it were possible to do it all again. He had 2 more years of life (and a good one at that) after the diagnosis, and we had 2 more years of hysterical, beautiful memories.
I just never thought I could possibly lose him this soon. He was not even 11 yet and every day I miss him as much as the day before.
I will say that is not really the end of Nimar’s story. He affected everyone who met him in so many ways. There are vets that have learned so very much because of working with him (as a hybrid) and with his condition (acromegaly along with his assorted medical quirks). He change who I am as a person, as I never imagined that I would go to such lengths for anyone. He has even made people who never even met him in person laugh with the stories of his stubbornness and comedic antics. I plan to tell some of these stories in this blog eventually. They make me laugh and smile to remember.
And of course, it is also not the end because if we had not had our lives so wonderfully captured by Nimar, we would not now have Siada, the little princess who will carry on the legacy of Emperor Nimar NimarusRex. Perhaps someday we will even find a Savannah brother for her as well.