Allegro, Office Cat

Allegro, sharing the warmth with Zuza and Lukas

Allegro died today.  She wasn't just the former office cat of Briar Patch, she was also the first cat Carolyn and I had together.  When I moved in, my baggage included my three cats, Path, George and Jesse.  But  before I moved in, my foster cat and her three kittens moved in, because Allegro--as she would soon be called--was the fiercest Momma cat you ever saw in your life.  My big, muscle-y boy cats were terrified of her.

She captured Carolyn's heart immediately.  She was the most beautiful calico Carolyn had ever seen and she was sweet and loving and so very grateful that she didn't have to be a homeless teenage mother anymore.  She took care of her babies fiercely, and she owned the house.  All of it.  Carolyn and I named Allegro and her kittens musical names.  I had already named the baby calico Minuet--sort of like Juliette, with dancing--and Carolyn thought Allegro, because of her speed and grace.  Little Rimsky was the first to purr a loud, but high pitched kitten purr which sounded more like buzzing than purring so she was named for "The Flight of the Bumblebee".  Her only boy was just a tad slower than his sisters, so was named Adagio.

About the time my cats moved in, Allegro began to go into heat again, and was rushed off to Briar Patch for surgery and rehab.  Then it was Thanksgiving and we moved her home.  Then we found out that she hated other cats, including her children and my guys wouldn't walk past her without an escort.  Then she moved into Briar Patch to become the Office Manager.  She charmed clients, annoyed most of the staff, accepted being a demo cat for client educational purposes and occasionally flirted with dogs that would have eaten her if given the chance.  Eventually the staff banished her to the upstairs of Briar Patch where Carolyn had her office.  She began to have some health problems which we tested and treated and tested some more.

When Carolyn retired it was made clear that Briar Patch no longer needed an office cat. The bad news was that we couldn't bring her home with our four inside cats. The good news was that after thirteen years, Allegro got a home of her own where she could be the only cat, and have a human all her own.  Our friend Susan took her in and gave her everything a cat could want--ample access to her food, multiple sunspots all over the house, a place on a warm water bed at night and lots and lots of love.  

We're going to bury her here when Spring comes.  We miss her so much.

Aging with Zuza

Now no one need panic!  Zuza isn't going anywhere soon, but she is showing signs of aging. Her face has grown so white that I almost forget how perfect it looked when she was young. Sophie, her breeder and self-named Grandma, used to say that she looked like a perfect, delicate carving, or maybe porcelain, she would say.  She did, and does, but we can see the aging and it's a little scary to me.  But what has developed in the last few months is more alarming.  It's her eye.

Her right eye appears to be entirely clouded.  A white filmy looking thing covers the whole eye.  The other eye seems unaffected.  I was at first afraid that she had, overnight, become blind, but this is not so, at least not completely.  It's a cataract, and suddenly she no longer looks like a puppy, but instead like the 10 year old dog that she is.  Rats.  We could have the cataract surgically removed and restore her sight in that eye, but it is really, really expensive and it is possible that the other eye will be affected and we will want to do both of them at the same time.

Her right eye is always dilated. It's been that way all of her life, we just didn't realize that it was the reason she squinted whenever in bright light.  Just when I noticed this change,  I began to have trouble with my left eye.  Two weeks later it also affected my right eye.  I have something called vitreous detachment.  It's also something that is inside of my eye, it's age related, I won't go blind from it, but it does seem like I'm looking at the world through a floating blob of amoeba. 

I must admit that I hadn't intended to include so much explanation.  I haven't even touched on what I wanted to say! 

What I have been thinking about is how our pets remain our babies, even as they age. For me it's this tiny creature who has become so much a part of me that I feel somewhat undressed when I go out without her.  It is almost unfathomable that I will actually be without her someday.  What an act of trust on our parts that we are willing to be so vulnerable to a being whose lifespan is so much shorter than our own.  We aren't thinking, when we fall for a little ball of kitten fluff that we are surely going to say goodbye long before we are ready to do so.

And so, I must accept Zuza's aging with at least as much grace as I accept my own.  Her blind eye doesn't seem to bother her any more than her broken elbow has bothered her for the last 10 years, which is to say, "What broken elbow?".   She doesn't worry about what will happen tomorrow or next week, (although she does seem concerned every night that I will simply let her starve).

I suppose, I will have to follow her example of just accepting each new development as it comes.  Somehow, my geriatric pet will always  be my baby girl, snuggling under my chin or tucking her nose inside my collar humming "Don't Worry. Be Happy."  

Zuza, sunbathing last week

Heart Dog

It's been a hard couple of weeks in the pet world.  I'm waiting to get some pictures before I write about a few that left us, but I do want to talk about one very special guy that Carolyn and I helped "cross over" on Monday.

His name is Monty.  His parents' names are Susan and Jim Johnston, and they are wonderful, thoughtful people who have known Carolyn as their veterinarian forever.  She has walked with them through illnesses and injuries, funny stories, multiple pet dynamics and the eventual aging of a long series of pets. Carolyn has loved them and the pets they entrusted to her care. Monty joins a whole lot of family members now, but Susan and Jim are left without him and without that unconditional love for which he was so famous.

And, you see, I think that Monty is a "heart dog", that one pet that reaches deeper inside you than anyone has ever reached before.  I don't know when that starts--was it the minute they locked eyes with you and saw something there that spoke to them?  Was it after a week or a month or a year when they knew that you were theirs forever?  And when do we figure it out in our cluttered human brains?  When do we know that this is the one, the one that will matter just a little more, the one that becomes so much a part of us that we begin to forget where they stop and we begin?

I think it is different with every dog.  Some would be happy with anyone who treated them kindly, fed them regularly and maybe understood the value of a squeaky toy or a tennis ball.  Others?  Others seem to know how to look into your soul and you cannot imagine living without them. And they, too, feel that you won't be as safe, or as happy, or as willing to face the tough times that happen to all of us, without them.  And they are right.

Monty was--and is--one of those dogs.

The good news is that they don't ever really leave you.  When they die, the loss is huge and painful, but after a while you begin to realize that you have been changed.  You are a little stronger than you were before you met them, a little braver.  Perhaps you find yourself a little more willing to listen, a little kinder.  However you are changed, it is for the better. And if you can get to a place of being willing to have a dog again, you will be a great pet parent, not because there will ever be that same heart dog in your life, but because you are a better person for having loved that heart dog.

I do believe that Susan and Jim will see Monty again, as well as all of those pets who preceded him.  But before that happens, they will have to be content with wrapping the memories of these precious lives around them, and to feel the richness, the glory of them all. 

They deserve every moment of that love.

I'm Back!!

Hi folks.  I last wrote almost 2 years ago.  And then I just stopped. I had more writing responsibilities at Briar Patch, and I got sick, and...I don't know, things got in the way.  I worried that I only wrote about sick or dying pets.  Who wants to read about that?

Well, I'm back.  And I'm taking a class in Grief Counseling around Pet Loss.  Guess what? People do want to talk about what makes their pet really, really spectacular.  They want to celebrate the relationships they have with their pets.  They want to see hundreds of pictures of cats they've never met, and hear stories of victories of pets vs. the cold, cruel world.  And they want to know that lots of people will never say, "Oh come on, it's just a dog.  So get a new one."

So that's what I'm going to talk about.  I'm going to talk about some of the wonderful animals I get to meet.  Some of them, like our newest kittens, Horatio and Calliegh, are the most pirate-like cats you will ever meet. To mix a couple of metaphors, they've boarded the ship and resistance really was futile.  And some of them, like the German Shepherd Greta, are at the other end of their lives when you meet them--but all of them have something to say to you, and I'm going to try to let them do that.

And now, for a completely gratuitous picture of a kitten to boost my followers: 

Horatio

WAIT! I have a better one!  

Horatio, the first night with us.  We fostered him. Right....

Hi again

I haven't been here in quite a while; I've been writing a new blog for Briar Patch.  If you are a follower here, you could check out the other one, briarpatchvetchat.blogspot.com where you will see some adorable pictures and hear all about the things in your house that can hurt your pets.  I hope to come back here where I don't "have to" write about toxins and can just tell my own cat and dog stories...but until then, you can drop by Briar Patch at see what's going on.

This is one picture you'll find there because I think it is the most amazingly cute picture around.
This is Lukas and Zuza in travel mode.

Farewell, Lily

It was over a month ago that we said goodbye to Lily.  I didn't want to write this post, especially since I had not written in forever, and I didn't want to post something as grief-filled as this particular goodbye.  Beth put a picture of Lily at the door of Hands On Physical Therapy with the caption that Lily had gone to the the light, and I thought it particularly apt.  Lily was always a part of the light and she shared it every single day of her life, even the really bad days.  The cancer returned in a dozen small tumors, one of which--on the old incision site--grew, ruptured and had to be bandaged, which necessitated wearing new fashionable clothing.

  But this is not just about how she died, but also how she lived, and she did both with a grace and generosity of spirit that leaves me almost speechless.  Her brother Mischief began watching over her, and we all rejoiced in the days that she seemed to have a good amount of her old energy.  She was slowing generally, wanting to walk less and rest more, but still wanted to come to work, still needed to greet everyone and still didn't want to let Beth out of her sight.

Things changed abruptly and it was clear, all during that restless last night, that the time had come when she needed to leave.  In the morning, when Beth asked if she wanted to go to work, she still jumped up, eager to do her job, and then lay back down, remembering her weariness.  She wagged her tail when Carolyn, her favorite vet, came in the room, and she left this life held in the arms of the person she loved the best.

I am absolutely sure that she is dancing on four legs, cavorting with her first human mom and waiting, doggy smile in place, for the moment she gets to greet her last one.

The Flight Attendant's Story

Carolyn and I traveled to Arizona this month.  We took the pups with us and, as always, they charmed everyone they met, including the flight attendants on every airplane.  Because they work as service animals for me, they can ride together and they can ride on our laps instead of under the seats.  I do a lot of explaining about how it is that Zuza can know that my blood sugar is falling too fast and what Lukas would do if I lost consciousness. 

On our last flight coming home, one attendant was particularly interested.  Zuza was being her perfect traveller self and sleeping soundly, while Lukas was being himself, fidgeting and flirting with anyone who spoke to him.  So, when the flight attendant offered me water, it was Lukas who accepted it with his neck stretched out just as far as it could possibly be stretched.  She melted, and said how very much she loved animals.

When we were deplaning--and we were the last ones to do so--she came and told us this story.  She has a cat that she loves immensely, and last year was very confused by his behavior.  She was lying on her left side, on the bed, with her head propped up on her hand and inviting the cat to hop up next to her for a snuggle.  He hopped up, but would not come close, only hissed at her and growled and stared in the direction of her left breast.  She could feel something under under her and thought that it was one of those little furry mouse toys that every cat in the world (and my dog, Zuza) loves.  Maybe that was what he wanted--although it was an odd reaction from his usual loving self.  So she reached under her, and instead of a toy, she found a lump. A big lump.  And yes, it was malignant.  And until the day that she had it removed, her cat would not let her hold him up to her chest.  As soon as the cancer was gone, he reverted to his snuggling self.  He knew that the cancer was there, and that it was wrong.  She said, "He saved my life."

They are so much wiser than we can know.

Lily and Mischief

I just mentioned these guys on the Briar Patch Facebook page, and then I knew I had to say a few words about them.  Lily, I have written about.  She has had a reoccurrence of her cancer, and has had a 2nd surgery to remove a tumor that formed right on the incision site from her amputation.  But, she is still an absolute wonder, joyously announces every arrival to "her" office at Hands On Physical Therapy, and makes certain that everyone feels welcome.  She really is capable of more joy that any other dog I have known.  We are all just holding our collective breaths that she will beat the odds and be with us for several more years.

Her brother Mischief is a great cat, mellow and sweet and was certain, right from the moment of his adoption, that he was sent there to be Lily's friend.  It took Lily a little while to accept that idea perfectly comfortably, but as you can see from the photo, they have evolved into a mutually trusting little yin/yang understanding.

Y'know, the world is a frightening place out there.   I can't even listen to the news anymore because I am afraid the whole country is being taken over by rejects from the old Jerry Springer show.  And then I reflect on the innocent creatures I know, the ones who are so wise, the ones who cushion my heart in their own goodness and I can sally forth into battle once more.

Go hug a pet tonight, everybody.