The foundling

We found this little cutie Friday night, Sept. 14. When I say "we," I really mean Bobby's cat L'il Bit and me. I got to his apartment early while he was playing a gig, and L'il Bit wanted to take a walk so I let her out the back door. While I was out there watching her eat grass and check out everything in her world, I started hearing what sounded like a tiny kitten shrieking. I followed the sound, and it seemed to come from a neighbor's house, but I didn't feel comfortable going into their yard to check it out.

Finally a young man came out, and I asked him if they had a kitten, and he said no, they didn't have any animals. I told him about the squalling, but he didn't seem to care. After he left, I didn't feel any qualms about going into their yard to investigate. The sound was coming from a crawlspace under the house that had a boarded-up opening. There was just enough room at the bottom for me to reach into. I was a bit nervous, but stuck my hand in, and this little fuzzball walked into it.

I pulled her out and held her close. She had fleas jumping off of her and was rather dirty, so it didn't look as if her mom had been around for a while. She was screaming at the top of her lungs. I thought for a minute about whether I should take her or leave her in case her mother came back. But it was getting dark, the night was going to be very cold, and as cold and hungry as she already was, I doubted she would make it through the night if something had happened to prevent her mom's return. I didn't see or hear any other kittens under the house, so I snuggled the baby and took her to Bobby's apartment.

Yesterday I said goodbye for now to my sweet Raj, who would have turned 20 in July. It's so hard to lose such a dear friend who's been with me for so long--he was barely 6 weeks old when I got him.

Raj was such a character--a true terror as a kitten who grew up to be the most laid-back, outgoing and empathetic cat I've ever known. He was great on a leash, and even went hiking in the snow with me when we lived in Mount Shasta, Calif. (I only made him do that once, though!)

He lost one eye to glaucoma two years ago, and shortly after lost the sight in the other eye due to a cataract. It was so hard to see him learn to cope with blindness, but he did it with his characteristic grace and courage. In the past year or so, he developed a form of dementia known as cognitive dysfunction in cats. He would frequently become disoriented and yowl pitifully until he heard my voice, when he would settle down. He also wandered a lot, especially at night, which is common with this disease.

Raj had been diagnosed years before with a heart murmur, and a few years before with an enlarged aorta. He also was in the early stages of kidney failure, but it was not progressing very quickly. He took one pill for his heart, and that was his only medication.

Then last month, his belly began swelling. At first I thought I was giving him too much of his favorite treat--cheese--but within a couple of weeks he looked as if he'd swallowed a watermelon, and I knew something more serious was going on. The vet aspirated some fluid from his belly for analysis, and the diagnosis was heart failure. He put Raj on Lasix, and showed me how to measure his belly to chart his progress daily as the swelling went down.

Until this point, Raj had been acting completely normal, enjoying his food and sleeping a lot. But after about a week on the Lasix, one evening he wouldn't eat his canned food. I knew that was the beginning of the end.

I have to stop here. I'll try to pick this up later, but it's really hard right now.

Missing Otis

My baby boy Otis pulled his leash loose and disappeared into the woods on Aug. 22. After two months of all-out, nonstop searching, I finally had to "let him go," so I could have some closure and move on through the grieving process. It's still my prayer that he's out there somewhere having a grand adventure and will someday find his way home again.

Otis had celebrated his eighth birthday on July 26. He was the fifth kitten born to a stray mama cat I had adopted. At age 3 1/2, it became evident that he had a lot of health issues, and the next 4 1/2 years I fought with all I had to keep him as healthy and happy as possible.

He enjoyed sitting outdoors in the evenings on his leash, sniffing the breeze, rolling on the driveway and wandering over to nibble on grass. Of course, after his disappearance I felt a lot of guilt, for not having made sure he was tied more securely, for not checking on him sooner. It's been hard to forgive myself for these things.

Everyone who met Otis loved him. He was just a big orange and white ball of love. His doctors and caregivers doted on him, as did I, of course. He loved to curl up in my lap in the evenings, after his outing, where he would purr and knead his claws until he fell asleep. If Otis has gone on to cat heaven, I hope that he no longer remembers the pain and suffering he endured while in his physical form, but just remembers the love.

It's not my intention to have this blog be all about my grief for Otis, but no doubt a lot of posts will touch on it as I try to get used to living without him. I found lots of helpful Web sites and encountered many Web friends who offered reassurance, comfort and support. One of the best of these is www.prayersforpets.org. I would print out the responses I got from my prayer requests and read them over and over. They really kept me going through the darkest days and nights, and I'm so grateful for each person who took the time to reach out to me. God bless you all.

Introduction

One could easily say cats are my life, as pathetic as that sounds. Wherever I've lived, I've quickly become known as the 'crazy cat lady.' I currently have four cats, though I've had as many as 13 at a time. I recently lost my 8-year-old boy, Otis, who pulled his leash loose and disappeared into the woods on Aug. 22. Not a day goes by that I don't grieve for him.

But my other four furbabies are a huge comfort. There's Raj, a 19-year-old Tonkinese; and my girls--Shugi, 17; Xochitl, 8; and Belle, who just turned 1. Belle is my little Hurricane Katrina baby. When my vet brought 40-odd dogs and cats up from the Gulf Coast a few weeks after Katrina and Rita hit, she asked me if I'd like to foster two 5-week-old kittens who had no mama. I was thrilled, and would have kept both except one was already spoken for. Little Belle loves water, strangely enough, and adores shrimp--a true Cajun, I guess.

Caring for these kids can get tough at times, as any single mom can attest, but I consider it time, money and energy well spent. I have considered, though, having a bumper sticker made up that says "My cats, and my money, go to New Hope Animal Hospital"!