cat tales.

It has been awhile since I last landed here. Wish I could tell you I had been traveling to Paris or taken a jungle safari or had a leisurely month at an expensive, luxurious resort.

But, no, I’ve been here. We’ve been raising (and killing) cats. We’ve adopted five within the past year and have only two left.

We started adopting cats (1 or 2 at a time) in 1986. Boots, Jacuzzi, Wrigley, Ziggy, and Rose - lived uneventful, moderately- to especially-long lives. Jacuzzi had diabetes, so we gave her insulin twice a day, but she walked right up to the needle and ho-hummed it. Rose had a tummy tumor as a youngster, had it treated, had to wear that awful cone for a few days , and never had another issue. I now discover we were very lucky.

Because (and we have spent some big buckaroos as…) we adopted 5 cats in the span of 10 months (that’s under a year if you’re counting) and lost three of them. Painful, heart-breaking, and expensive.

Moosie lived only 4 months after we adopted her.

Poppy lived 9 months. She was happy and active until, one day she wasn’t.

And, poor little Gloria, didn’t last a month with us. We tried. She was the best lap cat.

As I may have told you when I announced their arrival, (1) Moosie and (2) Poppy (the sweetest cat of them all and that’s saying something) had feline leukemia. We knew that going in but forged ahead anyway. What we learned is that, because their immunity level is low, they can be frisky and lively one day and lethargic the next and the next and the next. After a week of noticeable lethargy, we took them both (at different times of the year), had tests run ($$$), We had Moosie for 4 months and Poppy for only 9.

But we like to have two kitties in the house when we can. So we started over. We found (3) Gloria and Ava, both two years old, and before they learned to get along, within one month, we had to put Gloria to sleep. She seemed fine for about a week. She was a wonderful lap cat, didn’t like Ava much, but soon, stopped eating and retreated to under the bed for days. More tests, we administered medication twice a day (and even got good at it; tricky business that is!) but it ultimately didn’t matter. Returned for more testing, vets could give no reason and felt it was time to let her go. We adopted her at 8 lbs but she was only 4 lbs. at the end.

Anybody who has had a pet they loved knows how hard it is. We have learned that we need to be there at their last minutes. We want our faces to be the last they see. Perhaps too sentimental and perhaps not even important; but I would like to think it true.

Ava - a friendly tuxedo cat - still runs around and appears healthy. Fingers crossed. But we wanted a second cat, we we picked up our carrier and tried again. We landed a cat who didn’t even have a name, poor baby. He had been abandoned in an apartment and was Very Shy. But he is a beautiful British shorthair. We decided to take him home. And named him Toby.

I can report that we went through all the stages of leave-me-aloneness but he is now out and about the house and getting familiar with Ava. (THAT was interesting; not sure he knows he was neutered.) Much to Ava’s disgust. But things are improving, we even left them alone for a couple of days (thanks to a neighborly set of check-ins), and they didn’t terrorize each other ( it appears.). Things are looking up!

That’s three Tuxedos, two Tabbies, and some other assorted partridges in their pear trees.