You Can Stay, But It's Only Temporary

Back in the Spring of 1993 or '94, our neighborhood was inundated with stray kittens.  Every cat in the free world had given birth and dropped off all their litters in a 6 house radius, I'm sure.

One kitten was a little female calico.  She was a sweetheart but we already had 3 other cats and weren't looking to increase the family.  We (including the neighbors) had relocated most of the kittens and she was on the short list when we discovered that this baby was expecting babies.  We discussed it and decided to let her stay with us until the babies were born and weaned.  This way she could get good nutrition and care while she carried and nursed.  No way was she going to a 'shelter'.  That was about 17 years ago.

She was very confused about what was going on inside her and terrified the night she gave birth. We brought 5 new little kittens into the world and I showed her how to clean them and nurse them and gave her comfort while she pushed out another after another.  It was quite the night.  She was a good mama and I tried desperately not to get attached, but I'd just midwifed her and now was teaching her to be a mommy ... she was still just a kitten herself.

As soon as the kittens were weaned, we set her up to be spayed.  Just prior to her appointment, she went into heat again and tried every womanly wile she could conjure up to entice our older male.  He was willing until he remembered he didn't have the proper equipment anymore.  He gave her a slap and skulked away, embarrassed, I'm sure.  My husband and I laughed 'til the tears flowed.

She grew to be a large cat.  We'd (since we planned to not keep her) taken to calling her simply Miss Calico. Her new and official name became FatCat.  I had to buy a dog carrier with a luggage dolly to take her to the vet and the groomer's.  She was so round, she couldn't properly clean herself and that meant a monthly trip to the groomer for bathing and shaving.  Talk about indignities.

When she was maybe 3 years old, she was mauled by 3 very large dogs.  They'd gotten  between our garage door and our front porch.  She ran into the neighbor's yard, but because of her size, she couldn't get under or over their fence.  On the plus side, because of her size, they couldn't gain purchase either.  About that time my husband came home and ran them off.  He called me and I came and took her to the vet.  She needed drains,  sutures, and various meds.  She'd lost a couple of claws and even a tooth.  By the time we had her healthy again, she was worth her weight in precious gems.  But she was forever terrified of anything and everything.  People who came to the house regularly never saw her.  They thought she was a figment of our imagination.

She was a good kitty; loving, easy, she squeaked, she didn't meow.  She got on well with the other cats.  She wasn't a lap cat; her preference was to lie next to you with her forepaws and head in your lap and the rest of her on the couch.  She was obviously appreciative because she brought me gifts --- half a lizard, half a mouse, either half at different times.  Eeewe!  She wasn't a lap cat.  She lay with just her front paws & head on your lap.  She used your legs for kneading tortillas.

When Katie moved in and adopted us, she accepted her easily which was surprising because of her fear of other dogs.  She seemed to sense that Kate was family, and no bigger than any of the other cats, so it was okay.

We relocated to the mountains in 2005 (4 cats, a dog, a bird, and me) and she went outside once and decided she wasn't missing a thing and being a housecat would be perfectly fine.  Just this past Spring she started going outside when Katie was out.  Then she found herself a place on the front porch and a chair on the back deck.  Life was good.

A few months ago, I took my little siamese mix to the vet and we discovered she has kidney failure and he expected she'd be gone by Christmas or year end.  She's not only holding her own, she appears to have put on some weight.  She does, however, have kitty alzheimers and that's a challenge.  Meanwhile, FatCat took on the symptoms of kidney failure and was dropping to a mere shadow of herself.

Her temporary stay came to an end this past weekend.  She was just a handful of fur and bones and Friday started to quit eating and even lost interest in drinking water.  Saturday morning she gave it up and took her last breath.  Her little body is out in the yard by the pond with George & Cocoa and St. Francis is watching over them all.  I catch myself heading for the front door to let her out first thing in the mornings and being careful where I put my feet at night so I don't knock her off the bed.  And it seems strange not to have to watch my every step so I don't trip over her.  She was a good old kitty but she'd used up all nine of her lives and it was time.

My little family is diminished yet again.  And each one is terribly missed in his/her own way.  But they're together and they'll all keep dad company now.  17 years, not bad for a 'temporary' stay!