Saturday, April 11, 2009

A TEARFUL CAT TALE


When do you really notice the signs of your cat’s illness? Cats throw up. It’s their thing to do, especially when they have hairballs. It’s about cleaning themselves. They don’t care where they barf, and they simply walk away and expect you to clean it up and move on.

Mallory seemed to be throwing up just a little too much those days and it wasn’t just hairballs. It’s interesting that just the way humans sneeze twice, a cat barfs in duplicate as well. The idea of taking her to a vet was upsetting. Other than this behavior, the rest was perfectly normal. Spend some time sitting at a spot that had sunlight. Sleep. Eat. Drink. Meow at me. Meow where I wasn’t. Pee. Sleep. Meow when I was on the computer to let me know that she wanted attention. Eat. Drink. Sleep.

Mallory developed this one particular habit of “requesting” me to lie in a certain chair. She would then jump up and take a walking tour of my chest. Then, just stand there making sure that some part of her was covering my vision from the television. I would then have to grab her legs and make her lie down. At that point she would get into a position that made it so that I could put the palms of my hands under her paws and she would place all four paws in my hands. No, she wasn’t a kitten. At this point she was 12 years old and having already suffered the loss of her brother, Mickey.

I remember that loss and how she would spend time grieving by going down to the basement and sitting next to the carrier that I last brought him in to the vet. I knew that Mallory was clear that her brother was quite ill before the end came.

I also knew that when I brought Mallory to Dr. Luger’s office that it wouldn’t be an “I can fix her” thing. Enlarged liver, blockage, she was eating cat litter. A few days later and after an ultrasound, it was determined that I could take her home for a few days having had a cortisone shot. I thought about the trauma itself of her having never gone out of the house and now staying at a strange place. I had to take her home and spend the last few days, letting her know how much I loved her and appreciated the absolute love that she gave to me. When life was giving me negative behavior from the human world, the comfort of Mallory was my blessing. Yes, I have had to do this many times with cats, but this one seemed to hit the hardest.

While I was at Dr. Luger’s office, I had noticed a sign posted that someone by the name of Ellie had a male and female from the same litter and were four months old. I thought about it and having enough friends advising me to get another pair of cats, finally decided to call her, three weeks after obtaining Mallory’s ashes.

Ellie, said that she gave away the female cat, but that the person she gave her to said that the cat was “nervous”. Of, course. You just separated her from her brother! Ellie said that she would call the woman and ask if she still wanted to keep the cat and that if she was willing to return it, I would be able to get them.

It was about 9:30 a.m. when Ellie called, saying that she had both cats. She offered to come to my home and see if I wanted them after checking them out. It turned out that she lives in, I think it was either Middle Village or Glendale, neither which is more than ten minutes from my house. “What was there to check out”, I thought. When I was getting Mickey and Mallory it was someone who had to give them up due to their not being able to be in an apartment. They were four years old and I had no thoughts of not wanting them. The owner brought the cats and everything they owned or slept on.

I simply told Ellie that I expected to keep them and that the only thing I didn’t have was a litter box. Ellie said that she would bring me food, etc., as well, hoping that I would take them from her on the spot and have everything needed. She showed up not only with the litter box but: litter, dry food, wet food, tags, toys. She offered to put the tags on the cats. Me? I just felt that she needed to do this and allowed her to do so. Tags? I told her that I don’t allow my cats to leave the house.

The cats were walking about. I picked each one up to pet. I wanted them to explore the house a bit and realized that one of the first things I needed to do was fill the litter box. A bowl of water was already out. The male cat made his way down the steps to the basement and headed to the carrier that I brought Mallory in. He walk on it, sniffed around, etc.

The female cat was vocal. Ellie was commenting that she was vocal. Ellie was commenting that the house was big. I told her that my cats always get the run of the house and has never been a problem. Back upstairs Ellie asked if I wanted the carrier that she brought them in. I would have said, “no”, since I had two, but thought it would be a good idea to have the one item that has the cats’ scent on it…the only familiarity in a strange home. Ellie then decided that she wanted to think about it. I said that she was placing more trauma on them by doing this and asked if she intended to give them to someone. She assured me that it was her intent and not only took them home, but everything she brought with her.

I later called her asking if she was being judgmental. Ellie denied it and giving me a tale of how she decided to keep them feeling that they were her “family”, etc. I told her how awful it was that she had put me through this. She expected me to understand. I don’t. She was able to give away one and could have taken her back and then decide that she wanted to keep them along with the other cats in her apartment. I spoke with my friends and we all concluded that I had not offered her money. Is that what life is all about? Did I ask her to buy all of these things? If it’s true about the money thing, I don’t think she would fess up. I will, however, follow up at some point and ask about the cats. I’d be curious as to whether she did keep them. Mallory is not here to comfort me from the ASPCH (Humans).

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