Italy

"Brett!? Who is Brett Favre?" I asked my four year old son, Tommaso.

"He's the football player on the cover of my new Madden video game! " he replied with excitement .

"Okay, I like that name. Let's call him Brett," I said with a smile.

I rescued the tiny, red-furred kitten from the top roof gutter of the store where I worked, with the precious help of five brave firefighters on a scorching summer day. A name inspired by a football player's strength felt like the perfect fit for such a resilient little survivor.

Brett began to grow as a beautiful and healthy cat. His deep blue eyes gradually changed to a shiny emerald green, and his fur became fluffier, with a warm reddish nuance that made him look even more charming. Falling in love with him was so easy, so natural, and he, in turn, adored me as his human mother.

Ten years passed quickly, and many aspects of our life changed, but Brett remained with us, as a cherished and integral part of our family. So, when the opportunity arose for us to move to the U.S., the thought of leaving Brett behind in Italy felt unbearable, despite countless complications. There are many rules and bureaucracy for taking your furry friend with you to another country, but after all considerations, tears, and research, we decided to take Brett with us.

Our new life had begun. A fresh start, very fresh it was January, in a new country, a small town, and a cozy house in Altoona.

"Brett, what is it?" I whispered. Brett was close at the deck window; his pupils were wild, his posture looked like a lion in the savanna ready to attack his prey; he was looking at this little brown creature with a bushy tail and bright eyes. He jumped against the window, its paws slapped the glass, and scared the poor squirrel that quickly ran down the deck. Brett had never seen a squirrel before. The only animals he recognized were birds, for he spent a lot of hours on the balcony in the summertime when we lived in our apartment in Perugia. He was only an indoor cat. From that day on, the deck window became Brett's favorite spot in the house. It was like its own big screen movie, offering endless entertainment, and the bonus of getting warm sunlight on cold days.

Finally the snow began to melt, and the days got longer and warmer. The dry, barren, brown trees turned to a light green as nature was awakening from a deep sleep. Even the grass began to grow, to my surprise. I had never imagined that anything could survive beneath all this ice and cold. Many species of birds returned, and chipmunks woke up from their long hibernation.

Brett's curiosity and instinct eventually overcame fear, and he wanted to venture outside. At first, he cautiously explored the deck, sniffing every corner. Then down the stairs, step by step carefully until he finally touched the grass. Watching him walk on it for the first time was like watching a fakir walking on hot coals. His soft, delicate paws had never touched something different from the floor or carpet. It was hilarious.

Very soon, he became very confident to go out, and brought me all kinds of gifts. I had, with disgust, gotten used to removing the dead bodies of mice, birds, and sometimes chipmunks from my deck. Despite my horror, I always said "Good job, Brett! You are such a good hunter." He looked so proud. Then, one day, I noticed that Brett

had developed a strange cough.

Concerned, Andrea, my husband, called the vet to make an appointment for him, and they told us that an aging cat can develop a sort of asthma. It made us a little bit less worried, but we took him for a checkup. After the visit, the vet delivered news we hadn't expected. Brett's lungs were full of liquid making it hard for him to breathe. The only way to help him was drain the liquid. Unfortunately, the vet couldn't perform the procedure, and prescribed some medicine to help Brett in the meantime. He scheduled an appointment with a specialist for the following Monday. I told my husband

"It's too long to wait. I'm so worried; I can't bear seeing him suffering like this."

Despite the medicine we were given for Brett, his conditions were getting worse rapidly. He was so tired and his breath was so heavy. It was Saturday evening, and after calling several veterinary clinics, around 11 pm we made the decision to take him to the Veterinary Medical Center in Minneapolis.

The Veterinary Center impressed me. I couldn't imagine such a huge hospital only for animals. Even though it was very late, the staff who welcomed us were kind, and compassionate, which reassured us that we had made the right decision in going there. We waited for a while, when finally the veterinary assistant came to take Brett for his examination. The time we spent in the hallway was endless, and it was difficult to have positive thoughts. When they called our name we got up quickly like two springs held under pressure.

The vet who greeted us was a young woman, very gentle, but also honest and direct. We sat in her office, and she delivered the news with a quiet sorrow.

"I'm sorry, but Brett has lung cancer." The words hit us like a punch on the gut. For a moment there was nothing, but silence, so thick I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. She continued,

"I can drain the fluid from his lungs, and he may feel better for a few days, or even weeks, but there is no definitive solution." I felt my leg start to shake uncontrollably. She added,

"I know it's a terrible decision, but if you are ready, we can put him down." Andrea's hand found mine, squeezing tightly, and he said

"No, we are not ready for this. We want to try with the drain." The vet nodded, seeming almost relieved by his response. Promptly gave us the documents to sign, and proceeded with the treatment.

Brett responded well to the treatment, and he was able to come back home with us that night. The next morning I woke up, and immediately looked for him. I found him sitting by the deck window. When he saw me he came over and rubbed against my legs. I gave him his favorite treats, petting his soft fur, and gently touching the spot where the vet had performed the procedure. He looked like my old Brett, playful, curious, and eager to go outside. His appetite had also improved. For a moment, everything felt like normal again, but I knew deep down it was only temporary.

It didn't last long. After just a few days, Brett began struggling to breathe again. We tried to help him with some medicine, but it seemed to make things worse. He started hiding under the bed, avoiding us, as if we were torturing him. I felt so guilty. Probably, the only thing he wanted was to be in peace, and not constantly forced to take pills. At that point with eyes full of tears, I told my husband

"He can't bear this anymore. It's time for him to go."

Andrea called Brett's vet who compassionately agreed with our decision. She understood the pain we were going through, and guided us through the process with kindness. We made an appointment the following afternoon, and Andrea stopped by the clinic to pick up the sedatives prescribed to help Brett stay calm, and relaxed.

The next morning I spent every moment with Brett, lying beside him, gently petting his soft fur, and talking to him. Giving him the sedative was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. The time of the appointment arrived quickly. I didn't want to use the cage for his last journey; I knew how much he hated it. Instead I prepared a basket with his favorite blanket and toy. Andrea arrived from work, we gently placed Brett in the basket, and carried him in the car. As we drove, Brett sat quietly looking at the light coming through the window. His green eyes caught the sunlight, glowing like an emerald mirror, and for a moment he seemed to feel good again.

My mind was clouded, I couldn't believe what was about to happen. When we arrived at the clinic the vet led us to a special room, softly lit and quiet. I gently laid Brett down on the pillow they had prepared for him. He was calm, his breathing slow and steady, and there was peacefulness in his eyes. I wanted to stay with him until the end, whispering softly,

"Don't worry, I'm here. Everything will be fine." I think he was ready to cross the rainbow bridge, and leave me. But…I wasn't, even though I knew his life would be shorter than mine. He was an important chapter in my life, but I was his whole book.

Brett was an incredible gift for me, and he will forever live in my memories. I missed him deeply then, and still miss him every single day. No one could ever replace him in my heart. Losing Brett caused me tremendous pain, but with time, I realized it wasn't just his passing that hurt so much, it was the heavy weight of guilt I carried. In my desperation to keep him with me, I ended up causing him more pain. I was so terrified of losing him that I put my own feelings first, and this is something I have had to deal with, but I take comfort in knowing that we deeply loved him until the very end.