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Everyone, I think knows the expression that things go in threes.
In my experience this certainly holds true, though sometimes it’s more like fours or fives.
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When we collected Lily from the vet last Friday, blood test results were outstanding and there was the possibility of a further test and medication, so we were to settle the bill when it was all resolved.
We went to do this yesterday morning and while we were there made an appointment for Muffin to have a blood draw next week for a thyroid check.
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Alas, we never get away with a single vet visit.
Lily had been twice and I do hope the second visit counts against those three.
Just hours after making Muffin’s appointment for next week, we realised that she now was suffering from a urinary tract infection. As far as I know, those things are not infectious, but one has to wonder.
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It was too late to rush Muffin to the vet, so she went first thing this morning.
Some five years ago she had surgery to remove bladder stones and we are concerned they may have returned. She is now too old and frail to withstand surgery.
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So all we can do is hope for the best.
Once before we expected to lose our sweet girl when there was a mass in her stomach.
On the point of exploratory surgery that was likely to end with euthanization, she produced a massive hairball.
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Both of my bunnies went to the brink numerous times, only to recover and many of the cats I’ve cared for were nursed through long illnesses.
Any time another animal falls sick, the anxieties and the memory of past losses come up. Each one painful in a its own unique way.
If you get involved with animals, you’ll have your heart torn out, yet I cannot imagine my life without them in it.
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There is no way to prepare for such losses, or to protect against the pain they cause.
Unconsciously, I believe I tried once.
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Yeti was 14 when we moved to Seattle. She was healthy enough, but I was keenly aware of her increasing age and dreaded losing her.
Was that why I was so open to taking in cats when I got involved with a rescue?
Yeti retained exclusive rights to my bedroom and she seemed not bothered by the additions, but afterwards I beat myself up, realising how unfair it was to her after all the years she had been my only cat.
– Once Kina had negotiated himself a better deal.
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The loss of my first cat, Mohammed, left me heart-broken. In due course, my friend Tim arranged for me to have another and for unknown reasons, decided it should be a posh cat.
Tim made a collection in the office and I was taken to choose a Balinese that I named after Mt Kinabalu in Borneo.
He was gorgeous, but he did not settle. Tim and another close friend thought he needed a companion, so at Christmas they presented me with a Himalayan – Yeti.
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That was a fine arrangement, until Yeti grew up and announced that she no longer wished to play. She took refuge under a radiator, while Kina howled at my front door.
My having moved into a cooperative apartment that was not pet-friendly, this was an issue.
Which I suspect he knew!
Over the years I have put up with many cat issues, but in Kina’s case it was obvious he was dissatisfied with his lot.
Namely, he didn’t want to live with a woman and especially not a single woman. He wanted to go off with my boyfriend, but that was not possible.
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Fate intervened. A friend who was a devoted cat-lover lost his beloved Siamese. The family was distraught and one morning, my friend asked if I knew where he could get a Siamese or Himalayan.
“How about a nice Balinese?” I joked.
Giving Kina away was hard. I cried for a week, but when my friend and his family came to meet him, it had been love at first sight. Kina jumped into Bill’s arms:
“Get me out of here!”
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Apart from the sadness, it felt dreadful to give away the cat that had been a gift from generous friends.
But for Kina, it was a blessing. He was deliriously happy with his family and lived to the age of 21 with every comfort and so much love.
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After Kina’s departure, Yeti was my sole companion until I went to Seattle. In the last year of her life, she suffered with kidney disease, which is very common in elderly cats.
For months I kept her going, administering sub-cutaneous fluid until eventually she indicated that she had had enough.
My place seemed empty without her, despite having other cats, but without them for comfort it would have been so much worse.
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Was it with that day in mind that I’d acquired them all?
Re-locating across country, I’d decided it was time to do some volunteer work, which led me to accepting Panther as a foster, but then I fell in love with him.
And when it was clear he needed a playmate…
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After very much soul-searching, one day I was driving by the animal shelter and found myself inside, just looking.
A fluffy tabby was in a cage without a name or story and I went to inquire about it. As I sat waiting, something told me the volunteer would bring me a different cat and I decided, in that case it would be meant.
Soon, a large tortoiseshell cat was drooling all over me.
“Where’ve you been?”
She seemed to ask.
There was no doubt in my mind that she was Annie and that she believed I was her person.
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It was good, until I got her home to discover she hated other cats. It wasn’t a matter of giving her time to adjust. I could tell, she wished to be an only.
Should I have taken her back? The thought occurred but she clearly really liked me and shelters are no place for animals.
Not so long after the woman from the rescue called asking if I could help pay the vet bill for a kitten whose tail had been bitten off. Well yes, but what will happen to it?
It would need a home, of course.
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Picking the kitten up was the first time I’d been to the lady’s place. Holy cow. There were cats literally hanging from the rafters.
Including a beautiful old Scottish fold. Just as well, he was not on offer!
Driving home I got behind a Sysco truck. So the kitten became Cisco which suited him well.
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Panther was thrilled.
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Annie was happy with the arrangement too, as it meant Panther stopped trying to engage her.
Tiny white Cisco turned into the largest red-headed cat I ever knew. Like Kina, he had stunning blue eyes.
Cisco was terrified of other people until the last few months of his life when he suddenly, unaccountably, had a personality change, greeting my friends warmly.
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Four cats. Definitely enough, right?
Oh quite. But then I met this kitten.
A friend had adopted her but found herself to be allergic to it.
We tried to persuade someone in the office to take her, but I have to admit I didn’t give him much time to decide.
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Grisabel, “Grizzy” was named after a cat I’d known in my childhood.
Panther really fell for her.
He was still best pals with Cisco, but he was in love with Grisabel.
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Poor sweet Yeti twitched a whisker:
“What’s one more?”
When she died I was in pieces. In her little Himalayan way, she’d been so laid back and she was so special.
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Grief settled into my heart and weighed me down.
For the second time, friends got together to rescue me from it and for my birthday in 2004, I was given a Himalayan kitten that I named Thimphu, after the capital of Bhutan.
He was born two days before Yeti died.
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Like Cisco, Thimphu – “Tim-Pooh” was a red-head. He was tiny, taking forever to top one pound.
Tim was different to Yeti in that he had a completely flat face, something animals are bred to have on the assumption people find it cute.
Timmy was very cute, but he’d had been just as appealing with a normal face. I saw a specialist about having surgery to ease his breathing, but there was not enough cartilage for them to work with.
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The poor little love couldn’t even retract his tongue properly and he snuffled and snorted.
Yet he was such a sweet boy.
Everyone who met Thimphu fell in love with him.
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Thimphu wanted to meet everyone.
Anytime a stranger came to the house, he’d poke at their ankle and looking down, they’d see his tiny flat face staring up at them.
“Hello! Who’re you?”
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Timmy probably suffered his whole life, though it was not until the morning I found him in distress that his flat face took its toll.
I don’t remember in which way it manifested. I only know that I could tell something was seriously wrong and it turned out there was nothing to be done to help him.
Thimphu was only 8 when he died.
His death was so unexpected, I was gutted.
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Georgy was another Himalayan.
When I read his sad story, I had to offer him a home.
He’d been rescued from a terrible situation and he was an old boy by then, so he was only with me for his final year, but I grieved his passing too..
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My foster suite was fairly full when I got word of three abandoned Himalayans. Of course they had to be accepted.
Lucy, like Georgy, had lost an eye.
After Georgy died, she moved upstairs and remained with me until her sudden death in 2023.
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Tikka was Lucy’s mother and of course I would have kept her, but a cat as beautiful as she was easy to place in a home.
Though she managed to put me in hospital for 5 days first. One evening I tried to comfort her after another cat had annoyed her and she latched hard onto a knuckle.
My own fault and if I’d had it addressed sooner…
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Mandy was part of the trio but we never did work out the relationship.
She may have been part Himalayan but I would guess that one parent was tabby.
She was gorgeous and sweet and was adopted very quickly as gentle, pretty cats tend to be.
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Muffin arrived months after I’d had to stop taking in fosters. One of the cats we’d given up for adoption was re-abandoned along with Penny and Muffin. Because our foster-cat had been chipped, we got a call about her from a shelter and there was no way we’d take her back and leave the others.
Of all life’s failures and disappointments, it is those that involved animals that have been the most painful, the only ones I have a hard time accepting.
If only love was all it took to do right by animals.
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Muffin became my sixth or seventh Himalayan, depending on whether or not Mandy was, though she was with me so briefly as to hardly count.
Muffin is back home from the vet now, doing as well as can be expected and will hopefully recover after a course of medication.
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Oh My goodness. What a saga.
“Of all life’s failures and disappointments, it is those that involved animals that have been the most painful, the only ones I have a hard to accepting.
If only love was all it took to do right by animals.”
If only….
So true!!❤️
Thank you, Carolyn, for the beautiful photographic history of your devotion to cats!
Joanna
I love the stories of all of your cats! Hoping that Muffin will soon be well!
Your post reads like a storybook (which I don’t want to end). You have so many wonderful memories (and yes, painful too) of all the lucky cats who found their home with you. And it’s always nice to read how each cat found his/her own special place in your heart.
I hope Muffin recovers soon ❤️.
I think it is high time you wrote an actual book about the history of your life with cats. (And other pets) With so many cat-lovers out there, I am sure it would sell, and it would also be a comfort to others who have experienced similar lives with cats.
Best wishes, Pete.