Muses

G.G.

G.G. at the clinic, right by the door, greeting everyone.

G.G. was originally named Gabrielle, but to us she was always G.G. or just simply, Geeg! Gabrielle was cute but a bit too formal for her once we got to know her. Boy oh boy, sometimes those oldies but goodies come along, and you don’t know them for very long, but they really stick with you, this could not be more true than with our little Geeg!

Gabrielle lived the first 17 years of her life as an outdoor only cat and lived outside of a local daycare center. She had kittens, made it through cold winters, blistering hot Georgia summers, survived the parking lot, and was exposed to loads of children but then the day came where the daycare facility was set to close and G.G. would no longer have someone to care for her. I do not recall why the individual that cared for her all these years could not keep her, but I feel like it was a situation where the husband said “no” to bringing her home. She was 17 years old when she came to us and became our clinic cat.

Asking for lap time from Jake, a.k.a. buttering him up.

Becoming an indoor only cat did not seem to be a bothersome lifestyle change for Geeg, in fact, I think she was like, “Finally, I’ve been waiting so damn long for someone to bring me in!” She would sit at the door to the clinic and look out the window but never tried to escape, she could’ve cared less. We could hold the door open, and clients would freak that she might get out and she would just sit there, like “Nope, I’m good, take your time”. Being a clinic cat with us was not all that bad. Her medical needs were met, she was immediately put on heartworm and flea prevention, started being treated for arthritis and kidney disease, you name it, we would do it. These were not “blood donor cats” that lived in cages, they were family; they were not even up for adoption because we took care of them like they were ours and we were attached.

G.G. and Mr. Seymour Crusty at the clinic.

On the exam table at the clinic, posing. She could still jump!

Geeg, Fluff and Crust chillin' in a sunbeam!

Over the years the clinic cat family grew, and she had a few gentleman callers that moved in too, Mr. Seymour Crusty and Fluffy! You’ll hear their stories next! But Little Geeg was AMAZING!! She was a super sweet greeter cat, we used her for medicating lessons because she was such a compliant little lady, she had a hilarious personality and even let the kids that visited the clinic pet her and faun all over her. She was BEYOND patient. I guess all those years on the streets living among the hustle and bustle really does help make some of these cats some of the coolest. They are not quite the same when they grow up in the little bubble that is our homes, no life experience!

Playing doctor. Look at how patient she was with them!

We thought at 17 she might be a short-term commitment, but the months passed, and she kept on ticking. Clinic life was not bad to them, we had plenty of snacks, soft cushy bedding, heating pads, toys and she still played-oh you bet! But it wasn’t a home, and it was “hard” meaning that all of the surfaces are so hard. Hard floors, no carpet, soft bedding but no couch or armchair, no fireplace, none of those little luxuries. Every year for Thanksgiving our clinic would close for the week and the staff would take turns coming in to care for the three clinic cats. One year the doctor decided to travel so only two of us were left to share this responsibility. I decided that I would bring them home for the week, set them up in a room and allow them to be in a home and cozy and in turn make my life easier. Twenty-six mile commuting ONE WAY for 25 years, well let’s just say I’m WAY over it. I was over it back then, really over it now. It really ruined the “week off”, but alas, I drive for ethics.

Sunning Geeg!

Not dead, I swear, happy, relaxied in the sun!

These guys were just so chill, and so easy-going, that well, by the end of the week they were loose in the house, and no one cared! They were sleeping on dog beds by the fire, totally cool with our three large dogs, which was impressive and integrating with the cats quite nicely. Anyone want to guess what happened next? Well, we had no clinic cats after that week, I adopted all three of them! Who here is surprised, no one! I just couldn’t bring them back!

Enjoying the screened porch!

Screen porch time with her main squeeze, Mr. Crusty!

Geeg reminded us of the senior citizens that walk Lenox mall. She would make laps around our kitchen bar like “old folks at the mall”. And we’d say that to her, “You doin’ laps at Lenox again, G.G.?” It was so cute, like she was getting in her steps. She was 19 years old when I committed to her, so she was on a laundry list of umpteen number of meds and SQ fluids of course, appetite stimulants and junky cat food. So, while she totally learned to forage (that’s right naysayers-19 years old and learned to forage) she had ”room service” in her special purple bathroom. She was so in routine she would bolt ahead of us knowing it was time for her Fancy Feast! We would let her eat her junk food and then let her back out and she was quite content with this routine.

This is what we mean when we say, "Googly!"

Cat Stoller! That's right, great activity for seniors!

She was what Jake and I call, “googly”. Scrumptious little square muzzle and big googly eyeballs that always made her look so freakin’ cute. She also reminded us of our sweet, dear, Mammas (Asia) and swear they could have been sisters. I have a lot of terrible photos of G.G. because she never stopped moving. I have blurry side by side pics with Mammas, and all kinds of pics with half her face cut off. There are only a few good ones in this post! She was impossible to photograph. She only left us with our memories.

She lived her for 11 months. We let her go one month shy of what was estimated to be her 20^th birthday. I barely knew her three years but I gotta tell ya, she gave us a very special three years. I have video of her foraging, playing with wand toys, cuddling with the other cats. She came here to retire but she lived it up! It was my pleasure Gegeers! Glad we had the chance to know you! Once again, we were the lucky ones.

Finally, a soft sofa! She waited her whole life for this.

Enjoying the screen porch. No more fighting for her life, just relaxing watching birds.

Ferorcious Geeg! Complete with spooky spiders on her collar.

Tortie train!

Look at that little lady!

Albert

Professional photo shoot pics. He made it into this family just in time for this shoot!

Oh dear, I’m not even sure if I should tell Albert’s full story. Albert was one of the MANY clinic cats at the first cat clinic I worked in, as you can see, that job filled up my house! I started that job with five cats, when I left, I had 16 and three dogs! Albert came to us from Cherokee County Humane Society and because he was a large, long-haired cat, ya know, he was a “Maine Coon!” No, he wasn’t. So many people think they have a Maine Coon, and I am here to tell you that most of the time you have a long-haired cat with stripes, and please ignore the “M” on the forehead, it’s an old wives tale! Lots of tabby cats have those. This is a bit of a pet peeve, no you likely do not have a Russian Blue, you have a grey Domestic Shorthair, and you know what? Your cat is still awesome and beautiful!

But it was Albert’s looks that got him pulled out of the shelter, so good for him! He was a handsome beast in his early years, no doubt. He was brought to our clinic because he was FIV+. FIV stands for Feline Immunodeficiency Virus, and it is not a death sentence. It is spread via “extreme transmission of blood and saliva” so mostly a disease of fighting, unneutered male cats and sometimes transmitted via birth. I will not go into all of the details of the disease, but he came to us because most shelters and rescues back then were still euthanizing cats like Albert or keeping them separated from other cats. At our clinic we understood the disease and he was permitted to live freely and have friends, we had multiple FIV+ cats up for adoption and did our best to educate the public and find these guys good homes. We truly set the example and even had a bonded FIV+ pair as our greeter cats at the front desk.

Livin' the clinic life rockin' his wooly-bear phase of his lioncut.

At the clinic.

With his new tailess sister, Peaches! OMG! How cute are they together.

A bit bedraggled post bath. Someone needs to be combed.

Problem was, Albert never found his forever people. He was a bit of a grumpy Gus, got along with some cats but was not what you would call easy going, and he would occasionally spray. Oh, that is a fun story! One day while cleaning a bottom cage in the treatment room, he walked right up behind me, turned around and sprayed the back of me, yup, that’s right! We all had a laugh, changed my scrub top and moved on! I can’t believe I almost forgot to share this part of his story.

We liked to call this his beached whale pose! Haha!

Cats with FIV have weakened immune systems, just like people with HIV. So, they succumb to things like URI’s (upper respiratory infections), gingivitis/stomatitis and often have very unhealthy mouths requiring dental cleanings and extractions and RINGWORM! The latter was Albert’s challenge. That also likely hindered his ability to find a home. As the groomer at this clinic, I was regularly in charge of his dermatological care. This involved lion-cuts, anti-fungal baths, Lyme Dips (YUM!), as well as topical and oral medications to treat the fungus and his itchies. He was amazingly tolerant of this.

Charcoal's like, "What are you doing, dude?"

Quite the stunning coat for a cat with chronic ringworm!

Albert became one of the “core” residents. We had about 15 or so cats, of the 55-60 that were up for adoption, that never really left. They got looked at, but no one ever took them home (except staff) or they lived out their life there. Mind you, life wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t a home, but it wasn’t terrible. They had cat trees and scratching posts galore! We had a HUGE screened in porch and Albert pretty much lived out there. We also had windows in every room that went straight to the floor, so they always got to look outside and get sunbeams. The bedding was ridiculous, it was not hard to find a plush place to nap. We of course had troughs of dry food for everyone (we followed the environment of plenty rule) but they got wet food EVERYDAY. For a privately owned practice with so many residents, that is pretty much unheard of. They received monthly heartworm prevention and flea control, quarterly deworming, lab work as needed and if they required it, daily meds.

He was right at home on our living room rug!

He was quite the specimen wasn't he?

Yea, he looks inebriated here. He was boozin' it up on the holiday!

When it came time for me to move on, there were two residents left that just killed me to leave behind. Charlotte (affectionately called Snarlett) I successfully placed with a fantastic family who we still see to this day! But Albert was left behind. I thought about him every day. Then I heard that the new owner of the clinic didn’t want the burden of the clinic cats and that some of them were being shipped to her other clinic to live a life in cages and be blood donor cats. The same would be true for some left behind at this office. If they were senior or had medical problems well, I feared the worse! Albert, being FIV+ was a goner in my opinion. Certainly not going to be a blood donor with FIV. This is where I should probably stop sharing but here it goes.

Just so handsome!

I love this one, so many great captions!

I contacted my last hope at the clinic, the only one who stayed after we all abandoned the ship and told her I wanted to come get him. We planned a night for me to drive over there after work, they stayed open later than my current practice, a night when the docs were gone…She let me in the back door and I swiftly went to the grooming room, it had been my room for many years after all and I had only been gone for about two weeks. Everything was where I left it. I proceeded to fine Bert as we affectionately called him, donned my grooming apron and an anti-fungal bath was in full swing! No way I was bringing him home all gross. Now I realize bringing a cat with chronic ringworm into my house was a bit of a crazy crapshoot, but I will honestly tell you that Albert’s worm was his own special recipe. He never gave it to anyone, I never got it from him, nor did the staff, nor did any of our other pets.

So, it’s not like I broke in or anything, but it was a covert rescue mission, and it was successful!

Bert fit in just fine here, he was used to a multi-cat environment and honestly, we had some spraying back then and that is not a deal breaker for us. Clean it up, move on. But he was a really good boy, he even meshed with the dogs. We all brought our dogs to the clinic for care, so he was no stranger to canines. But what was super cute was seeing him with Peaches!! OMG, had they both not been spayed and neutered could you imagine the amazingly cute kittens they would have had!! They were twinsies with the exception that she had no tail.

Ok, they were huge, but adorbs.

In my veterinary career, rarely have I seen a cat actually die of complications to being FIV+, in fact, I can only think of one other cat that succumbed to it specifically. FIV is not a death sentence, so many of these cats live long lives and die of something else like good old-fashioned kidney disease, but not Albert, the FIV finally got him in the end. It was really weird. His RBC count was so low at one point he really should not have been able to walk but he was still motoring around the house and still eating. We treated each and every condition as it arose, and he too was victim to my poly-pharmacy treatment protocols. He did well for a long time, but on his last days we let him out in the yard to enjoy the grass and flowers. You can see in the photos the ringworm all over his little nose and his bib is wet from constantly drinking so much. These were the “strictly indoor” days when we did not do leash and harness walks, catios or stroller rides. I always felt it was important to let them go outside in their final days and that made me think…”I bet they would have enjoyed this more when they felt better and were healthy” and so that is partially how the change began. I am now a big proponent of allowing cats safe, supervised outdoor access (if they enjoy it) as it significantly improves their quality of life. Live and learn.

Labs say he shouldn't be alive, but so strong he was still walking around the yard.

Bert wasn’t with us too long about 4 years or so, but I have always felt so good about going back and scooping him up even if it was a little bit of a secret mission. No one noticed he was gone, no one cared, but I did, and my caring changed Albert’s life and probably saved it too. Love you, you grumpy Gus! We always loved your spiciness!

At least he felt what is was like to be in a home, even if just for a little while.

RIP Albert.

Yukon

Yukon during his professional photo shoot! Soakin' up the love.

Yukon was yet another animal found by my previous employer. She was pretty good at filling up our household! She lived far from the clinic in North Georgia and found Yukon laying near a tombstone in a graveyard in Elijay, Georgia, on Yukon Road…All of the first three dogs were named after the streets they were found on. Yukon was emaciated, absolutely covered in ticks, not neutered, no collar, no microchip, nothing. My rule of thumb has always been that if it is obvious that some effort was made to take good care of them, meaning they are spayed and neutered, in relatively good health and have some form of identification, then we would always try to find the original owner. In Yukon’s case, as with so many, it did not look as though returning him to where he came from was in his best interest. We like to think it was one of those tragic stories where he was laying by my master’s grave, but we will never know. He was a young dog, barely a year old and was likely just lost and happened to be resting there.

First week home all scrawny and moth eaten fur.

Yukon and Jake in front yard 6-2002-1 (Copy)

Look at how gross his ears were!

Now, of course we didn’t “need” him, but clearly, I LOVE BIG dogs and Grant and Maple were not exactly big, so I saw this as my chance to finally have a BIG dog! A few of the other staff were interested in adopting him as well, but I had first dibs, and it didn’t take more than a meet and greet with our crew to know we were keeping him. Oh, that first night home…the TICKS!!! They just kept falling off of him, it was so gross. The dog must have had 100 plus ticks on him.

We joke that this was as close as either got to being caged shelter dogs.

Yukon and Grant became fast friends, in fact, Grant was the only dog that Yukon would wrestle and play with. No matter how many friends’ dogs we introduced Yukon to, he would not spar with any of them. Being a German Shepard, he was easy to train, and all three dogs learned basic and advanced obedience as well as agility training, we even dabbled with a splash of nose work but didn’t stick with it. Yukon loved big soccer balls from the start! We regularly purchased new ones as his jaws were so enormous, he could put his whole mouth around the ball and just puncture it! We went through a lot of soccer balls. He also liked to catch Frisbees! For such a big guy he was quite active and agile. He got along great with the cats, and they loved to snuggle into and groom his fuzzy coat.

At the grandparents for the holidays.

A sleepy pack.

At a friend's house visiting with their doggie friend, Cosmo.

Fireman Nilius to the resuce!

All three of these dogs traveled home with us to visit family, it was amazing to have such a substantial pack of dogs and they were all welcomed wherever they went. It was really nice. Yukon was definitely the “good boy” of the two big boys however, and he got to go do a few things that Grant could not because Grant was naughtier! For example, he enjoyed the Atlanta Dogwood festival, Grant would have lifted his leg on every booth and piece of furniture and art for sale, but Corny was a perfect gentleman! He had many nicknames, Yukon Cornelius, Corny, or Nilius, the nicknames are endless here at our house. Remember Yukon Cornelius from Rudolph? Totally him, “sniff, sniff, sniff, nothing!” Haha!

I could walk all three of these guys in a perfect “heel” on my left and push the cats in the cat stroller at the same time! We taught them “left” and ”right” training commands and we would all turn a corner together it was quite cool to see! They were quite the team. Very intimidating crew and when our friend’s Old English Bulldog came over for us to pet sit, watch out, no one would enter our yard with these dogs! We were safe.

Yukon was also a really good patient. I can recall one day, just playing in the yard he sliced open his back paw pad on a slate flagstone on our sidewalk. Oh, the blood shed! This was my chance to learn to suture! I did as much as I could on my own to save money and to avoid carting the 100# dog up to the cat practice! The vet I worked with was like, “oh you can do it!” She literally folded up two towels, we took some old suture and she quickly reviewed “simple continuous” suture pattern. I did it side by side with her and then brought my example home and sat it beside me while I worked. We gave him some pain meds, cleaned the wound, and stitched him right up! What a very good boy!

So well behaved on our walks.

Performing minor surgery at home in the living room!

What a team! They have all just had their monthly bath and blow dry!

I remember one day when Jake was mowing the grass in the backyard, a very brave UPS driver tried to deliver a package to our front door, the dogs were all on the back deck, until they weren’t! Jake looked up to see a man, outside of the fence of the front yard who had taken his shirt off and was waving it like a flag. Jake stopped mowing the grass and could hear the dogs barking. The three of them had pinned the UPS man on our front step. They didn’t bite him, but they sure as hell were not letting him leave! Jake came up to the front to diffuse the situation and the UPS man safely exited the yard. The guy who had take his shirt off was standing there talking to them and Grant came up and snatched the shirt out of his hands and started running around the yard with it playing keep away. They were a mess, but I never feared being alone in this house while those three beasts were on the job.

One morning, when he was only four years old, he went out the back door to pee, laid down and would not get back up. We hadn’t a clue what was wrong. He was to become the first of our dogs to have a major issue. I rushed him over to the super folks as Northlake Veterinary Surgery, at that time, they were still Northlake Veterinary Specialists and had an internist on site. Yukon’s ultrasound showed a ruptured splenic mass, and he needed emergency surgery. He was the first of what has become an absolutely horrible trend of ruptured spleens. It is a big dog thing, and we have lost multiple dogs to this now. So, he had surgery, and the biopsy results came back as an “undifferentiated sarcoma”. It was explained to me at the time that this meant the cancer cells were so immature they had not yet turned into a definitive type of cancer, so we had no idea what we were dealing with, how to treat it and he was given 3 months to live.

We have used this crate to "hospitalize" dogs and cats when needed.

Note the IV catheter, we have done some pretty intense nursing care here at home.

Yukon orange soccer ball 7-2002-1 (Copy)

We spoiled him, he got all the frisbees and soccer balls we could buy, fed him the single most expensive prescription food Hill’s makes called n/d (neoplasia diet), we took hikes, went on our walks (he would carry the frisbees ALL THE WAY back home after we went to the field to play, so precious). And the months and years passed…we really do not know what happened, but we suspect we either got stupid lucky which is not our luck, or the samples got screwed up at the lab. Yukon lived to be about 11 years old with a whole host of other problems that got him. Grant later had a ruptured spleen and due to our success with Yukon we proceeded with Grant’s surgery with hope, but he only survived a few days post op.

Yukon had a chance to get old, not that I am convinced that is all that awesome, but it was better than being ripped away from us at age four! In his senior years he developed Degenerative Myelopathy (DM) an extremely common condition of German Shepard Dogs affecting the spine, this would slowly paralyze him over time. Our wonderful surgeon said to me regarding exercise and taking it easy. “If you were Yukon, wouldn’t you rather go out catching your frisbee versus living sedentary in a bubble?” Ok, ok, that made sense, we continued to play on! We were going to let him go out with a bang and a splash of acupuncture, Chinese tea pills and a whole host of other potions and antioxidants and joint support. You name it, he got it. There is a reason we didn’t go out and do much with our friends during these 20 years, we were busy nursing a home full of broken pets and that is where every dime went too!

Wearing his Help'em Up Harness and Piddle Pants. Looking at this pic you can see why we forged on with care!

Via agility training they learned to jump and climb.

Majestic!

Passers by were in awe, we did these jumps on our daily walks!

But wait, there is more. Yukon developed ASS CANCER! Yep, that’s right, at this point, no holding back and being appropriate. It is a good thing he was such a cooperative patient because the vet visits and at home blood draws for rechecks, wow it was a lot. I will spare you the photos and boy do I have some doozies! I literally biopsied the mass at home, I applied lidocaine to the area, lanced it and squeezed out a whole bunch of delicious gunk (you vet techs out there get me, we like gross things), and sent off the sample. I forget what type of cancer it came back as at this point. It didn’t matter, he was eating and drinking and maintaining his weight, he just couldn’t easily defecate on his own once the masses got so large as they were obstructing his anus. So, guess what I did every night for 9 months? Came home from work, put his back legs in the bathtub, scooped out his poops and flushed them down, washed his tush and put on fresh pants! I swore I would not put him in piddle pants, but you can see from the photos that I could not avoid it. He was still playing with his soccer balls and could still catch a frisbee, how could I euthanize him? He struggled to stand up but once he was up, he was good to go! The Help ‘Em Up harness is a miracle device if there ever was one, it’s comfortable enough that they can stay in it long term, sleep in it and it is easily washable.

Cold laser treatments, note Mr Custy laying on his tail, little did they know they would soon live together.

The Three Musketeers.

Our annual Fall hike to Red Top Mountain

How could we not keep going with this degree of quality of life?

Robust an at his healthiest.

On top of the world!

In writing this, I have of course reviewed old photos and videos. I have videos of all of the cats gathered around him on his last night, being headbutt by Mammas and Wiccas, a belly flop by Peaches, Hitch laying by his side, but I just don’t have any great pics of him with the cats, they were all friends though. Yukon was an amazing and handsome boy, and we were so lucky he was ours. I admired his resilience and devotion to our family. We miss you Nilius.

The whole team. Maple, Grant and Yukon.

So cute. Watching mommy for commands.

Wheels!

Take one look at the pics and you will see the reason for her name. Not at all striving for inappropriate but I will share that my mother used to call handicapped parking spaces wheelie cap spaces when I was a little kid. Here is the story of our delightful, Wheeliecappers! Yes, I pluralize everything, I don’t know why.

Wheels was yet another cat rescued by my former employer at the cat only vet. She found her on the side of the road on her way to or from work, I can’t recall. At the time, Wheels was a four-month-old feral, calico kitten who had been hit by a car, so obviously she brought her to the clinic to get all fixed up. Little did we know that she was not fixable, well, at least not all the way.

After a thorough exam, which Wheels pushed through but was completely baffled by all the touching, and x-rays, we learned that her back was broken. We could have euthanized her, but we didn’t, she was so full of life and healthy in every other way. This clinic had seen many miracles, we had about 45-65 clinic cats at any given time, it was the land of misfit toys where all the broken came to play. So, we decided to see if time would help and if Wheels would regain some degree of strength and ability to walk and eliminate on her own. This gave the staff lots of time to get attached to her so clearly this was the final decision. We were keeping her!

On a condo at the clinic, we put her up there so she could survey the land.

Testing out her new wheels and her new cart at the clinic.

I took care of Wheels a lot. I became very attached to her very quickly. I may not have the desire to have human babies, but as Jake sweetly said to me one day, when he was up at the clinic and we were both assisting with an emergency C-section, “You have maternal instincts, you just use them for animals!” All the staff had to learn how to express her bladder and help her defecate, but I was always the best at it. Little did I know this would become a niche for me throughout my career. I am a master extractor of feline elimination! We did physical therapy exercises to try to help her with strength and we ordered her a specially made cart (a big deal back then) to try to help her get around! She used it, but she was a very determined little lady and would often pull herself right out of her cart and just scoot along the floor. Due to this handicap, she was built like a linebacker in the front end, so strong! This was my, and most of the staff’s, first experience with such a severely handicapped cat.

As she approached one year of age it became clear that Wheels was not going to get better, she was also not going to get adopted, so we integrated her in with all the clinic cats. It was just so sad that her friends would come and go but she always remained along with a few other pretty “unadoptable” staples. The clinic was so “hard”; the surfaces did not scream cozy for a cat like Wheels. She didn’t really use the cat condos much and most of the beds were up on something so we could easily sweep and mop each day. She scooted around that place like she was the clinics personal dust mop! She did like the office and screen porch, so we decided to make that her home base, she even learned to use the cat door.

I always wanted to bring her home but didn’t think I could live up to the commitment. Then Lynx became diabetic, and I thought, well now I have to be here at least every 12 hours for him so maybe I could make this work? Wheels needed her urine expressed at least three times a day. She never regained the ability to eliminate on her own. I continued to remind myself that I saw her every day at work, did a lot of her care, and convinced myself it was too much. After all, did I “need” another cat? No!

Then, there was a hurricane, a BAD hurricane. I don’t remember the names of all of these storms the way so many people do. That is just not who I am, all I know is that I got the call that a HUGE, probably 200-year-old oak tree fell on the clinic during this storm! I knew which tree and I knew just where that might hit, it was in Wheels’ room!!!! I lost it! The owner of the clinic was out of town so I, and many of the staff rushed up there to make sure everyone was ok. I found Wheels cowered under the desk wet and terrified. It had rained right into her room. I mean how much could this one little cat endure; she’s freakin’ paralyzed for Christ’s sake. It’s not like she could get away! That was it, I told Jake that we had to do it, she couldn’t live there anymore, I was bringing her home.

Loving being home on the porch.

Hanging with Simon in our archaic DIY cat condo.

Snappy Cappers! One of a bazillion nicknames.

Visiting with her Auntie Bella from Sweden!

Fast forward to life at our house. She fit it swimmingly! No one made a fuss at all, what was one more at this point? She was also incredibly sweet and unintimidating so none of the other cats cared. She was so freakin’ tough, OMG, she climbed the stairs to the upstairs and would climb up on the cardboard scratcher by the window and literally throw herself onto the screened porch. She loved the porch at the cat clinic; she loved the porch at our house.

Climbed all this stuff on her own (note ramp).

Favorite little mouse.

She had this favorite little mouse toy that I will never forget, she never really played with anything at the clinic but at the house she blossomed. I regretted waiting so long to take her home. The mouse no one else in the house cared about was her favorite thing, I put it in her shadowbox of memories. Have I mentioned how precious it is to see a little paralyzed cat crack out on a little mouse toy! Well, it is precious!

I brought her home so she would be safe, so she could feel soft things, comfort, and know what it is like to be a part of a family and have a home. Then…our house caught fire!!! Jesus Christ! What more could this cat survive? In our downsized smaller space post fire, she eve learned to forage. She and Lefty were the two I was most worried about when I moved to strictly foraging for dry food. Previously, all food was up high due to our three large dogs but I had to cave and put bowls on the floors for Wheels so she could successfully eat. No more, food puzzling began! 16 cats, three dogs, 900 square feet post house fire, and we fed wet food twice a day, had food puzzles for the cat’ dry and the dogs didn’t destroy them all. It can be done; I’ve lived it and I am here to tell you it can be managed…with some creativity.

At the clinic post fire-note sooty paws.

Temp housing post fire with Simon.

Post fire accomodations working for her just fine.

Wheels was not with us long and we haven’t a clue what happened to her. I have been haunted by the fact that my attempts to help her stretch and feel her best may have done something inside. Who knows, she could have further injured herself just doing her Wheels thing, maybe from tossing herself out the screen porch window or getting up and down from her cat condo and not using the ramp daddy so nice made just for her! Something happened where her stomach and bowels stopped digesting/moving, it was like she became more paralyzed. It happened super quickly, and I will spare you the gory details of her passing, but it was gross and sad. I still live with the feeling it was my fault. Maybe it was for the best that she didn’t get old and arthritic as that would have certainly been hard on her.

I will leave you with the little blurb I put in Wheels’ shadowbox of memories, complete with favorite mousy. It references her Auntie Molly’s little “Wheels on the Bus” song she used to sing to her when she would pet sit. And, how great is it to have such a good friend that she learned to expressed BOTH of your paralyzed cats while you went home to visit the fam? Just wow, thanks Auntie Molly!

I was so proud of you,

And so proud to have had the privilege to care for you.

I never resented the responsibility; but rather embraced it.

You were an amazing soul, so strong and so persevering.

No car, hurricane or fire could slow you, certainly no physical obstacle.

I have learned so much from you, I only hope I gave you enough in return.

The wheels on the bus go ‘round, as do, I suppose, the wheels of life.

You will be missed more than you could ever know.

I love you.

I am sorry.

I still have her cart…her “wheels”.

My favorite picture of her, we didn't really have that many.

Rest in feline power sweet Snappy Caps!

Iittala (Tallas)

On sofa, first few days home.

Tallas, is what we most often called her. She was given to me by a previous employer as my Christmas bonus one year. My employer said, “You have rescued so many, you deserve to have your one dream cat” knowing I would never buy an animal. But you see, I had already started to learn that my dream cats came in many colors and from many different walks of life, just look at who had come before her. This was quite the double-edged sword for me and the staff at the office. We saturated ourselves in rescue cats, our homes and the workday were nothing but cats, cats, cats, and most of them in critical need of help and a home. But what was I to do or say? I was ecstatic when I met Tallas, so much so that I think I scared the crap out of here with my enthusiasm over her cuteness. I felt terribly guilty but of course kept her and cared for her despite the controversial circumstances that brought her to me.

Iittala (pronounced e-talla) was a purebred, silver Maine Coon. We named her after a Finnish crystal company. I am Scandinavian and used to work for a Scandinavian import store and we carried this brand of crystal. I thought she looked icy and wintery, so I wanted her name to reflect that. I have always been in awe of “silver” animals, the fact that mother nature makes them, it’s just remarkable to me. A Maine Coon was one of my dream cats, and someone wanted to help me fulfill that dream and that is how she came to me.

I just love this pic, stunning.

Classic pose for her, loved to dangle her legs.

Iittala confirmed what I already knew to be true, adopt in pairs. She was the last of her litter and while we had 16 other cats at the time, she was overwhelmed adjusting to the household. I think it may have been easier for her if she had had a buddy to ease the transition. Her addition was also was the first time we went to 17 cats, which proved to be a bad omen number for us three times over. Every time we hit 17, someone passed away. Sixteen was the “sweet spot” and we stayed there for a long while (about 12 years, actually).

She was a little spitfire of a kitten, and she did not like to be groomed which was a challenge, just look at that coat! I was really looking forward to being her hairstylist, but Tallas was more of a Tomboy and preferred no grooming!

She was hilarious and got along with the dogs really well too. She really embraced the feline accommodations, which compared to all we have now, feels like they were living in squalor back then!

The new baby. Note my adopt a cat t-shirt, the irony.

Despite her hatred for grooming, I think we mainatained her coat pretty well!

Doggy headbutts. This was her with Grant.

Little supermodel here.

I remember when the house caught fire, she was the only one I couldn’t find and the only one I did not have a carrier for. I found her in the one hooded litter box I had (offering choice for those who wanted it!) She was covered in drool and very sooty. I scooped her up and took her out to the car, no carrier, nada, she did just fine on the way to the clinic for the bathe-a-thon of everyone which later ensued. Since then, I have always ensured I have one carrier per cat, no exceptions.

Paper bag fun!

Would you look at that tail! Talla Tails!

Even fancy ladies like boxes and bags!

Hanging with her friends on the screen porch.

Loving the porch!

She was very present in the home and pretty much lived on the kitchen counters, table, and adjacent cat condo. She enjoyed height, surveying her land like the queen she was. She was a part of everything. I diligently marinate cat toys and she loved that chore. I would clean all of the cat toys (still do) and marinate them in different scents, she was front and center inspecting them and making sure I was performing this task correctly. Her favorite was a little, refillable/stuffable hedgehog.

All the toys!!!

She loved to be up high and survey her kingdom.

Iittala lived a VERY short life. We lost her at the age of six. One September, Sunday morning I was freshening food bowls and dishing up wet food breakfast, this was before the days of 100% food puzzles. She was eating from a bowl of dry food on the kitchen counter, I went upstairs to put down the upstairs food bowls, came back down to the kitchen and she was lateral on the kitchen floor. I yelled for Jake! All I could think was that she was choking on a piece of kibble! I stuck my fingers down her throat but couldn’t find anything, I started to frantically compress her chest. Then I decided I needed an airway and Jake swiftly took apart a Bic pen so I could place it as an emergency trach tube! Called our vet, gave her breaths, no dice. She was gone in the blink of an eye. If she didn’t choke on food then I thought, it must’ve been her heart. Maine Coon cats are known to have heart problems. I was still in the “need to know” stage and we did a quick autopsy at work and found nothing at all unusual. I couldn’t bring myself to ship off her whole body so we sent only her heart to UGA and the results came back normal. Now there is a regret! I cremated her without her heart, just a horrible feeling every time I think about it. She was the last pet I ever autopsied. I know enough now to hypothesize why they died even if I do not have an exact cause of death, and I have decided I just do not want to cut them up to find out more.

Her urn is, you guessed it, a beautiful piece of Iittala crystal, complete with her little stuffed hedgehog.

Sunflower

Looking fancy and cute on her red blanket.

Sunny is what we often called her; one of the names that was considered for Maple, before we decided we couldn’t let anyone else have her. We didn’t love that they wanted to name Maple, Sunny so that gave us just the little push we needed. But regardless, Sunflower needed us, and we didn’t care what her name was by the time we got to the point of taking her in, but we kept the name, nonetheless.

I received a call from this relative one day with an ultimatum. “You have one month to come get this cat or else!” Why was I responsible for this cat’s welfare? After all, I lived 13 hours away, had nothing to do with the adoption or raising of this kitten, but for some reason, I suppose since I worked with cats, I was now responsible for her life? Okay… Sunflower was, you guessed it, urinating outside of the litter box.

In her previous humans home with her housemate, Daisy.

Sunflower’s name came from our family theme, we have historically named our calico cats after flowers. My mom started this trend with one of my childhood cats, Pansy. Sunflower was a dilute or pastel calico, some people only know the black, orange and white, but they can be muted like this as well. So, the name offers a little hint as to where she came from and how she became ours, a blood relative who also embraced the flower naming theme gave up on her.

Problem was, I had zero intention of driving to Delaware anytime soon to go get this cat and of course, the time, effort and finances involved to bring her to me was not at all an option on the part of her current pet parent. I was still knee deep in my “save all the cats of the world” mode, so I devised a way, thanks to the offering of one of my very bestest friends! My friend Anna was going to be headed up to Delaware to visit her family and offered to pick Sunflower up and bring her home to me, to safety. What a very kind gesture indeed! Sunny sang the song of her people on the drive home; this was long before the days of premedicating with Gabapentin to decrease stress. She was set up in the only bathroom in Anna’s house in Athens, Georgia. Cozy! I drove to get her and brought her to the vet clinic where I was working at the time.

She was a classic "loaf" position kinda gal as you can see from all of these photos! But that is good, means she felt safe, relaxed and comfortable.

I’m sure you’ll be anxious to hear about her exam findings, yes? Why would this cat be avoiding the litter box? This cat that was given up at the age of two for “behavioral” elimination outside the box! Come to find out she had struvite crystals in her urine for starters, a very common urinary problem in cats. Combine genetics with the bottom of the barrel grocery store brand foods and this is what you get. This relative never heeded my advice and my attempts to educate were completely futile. One of their cats had previously died of a urinary obstruction, but they still keep feeding crappy foods and maintaining filthy litter boxes to this day. Isn’t that the definition of insanity? Repeatedly doing the same thing expecting a different result. Perhaps a different result isn’t expected, they just don’t care? I don’t really know or understand it.

An example of the entrance to a litter box with her previous owner. Disgusting!

An example of the cleanliness, would you use it?

We got her urinary crystals under control by switching her over to foods to help them dissolve and then maintained her on healthy foods to prevent recurrence. She lived at the clinic for a while, I even thought that we might put her up for adoption, after all, we did not “need” another cat! But the urinary crystals were not the end of her medical problems, oh no! Sunny had severe gingivitis/stomatitis and had to have a dental with many extractions, which allowed her mouth and gums to heal up quite nicely. We noticed as she meandered around the clinic that she would “hug” the walls and often leaned, she had a funny gate. We discovered this was because she ALSO had bi-lateral luxating patella’s, which is just a fancy way of saying her knees dislocated. It’s a bit challenging to posture in a box of sand to eliminate when both of your knees are dislocating, it burns when you pee and basically you just hurt. But what do I know!

I decided at this point that adopting her was the best option, she just had a lot going on and would be hard to place. I took her for a surgical evaluation at my favorite orthopedic surgeons and the plan was to monitor to see if she worsened because she basically needed surgery on both of her knees. She integrated quite nicely into our family as she came from a multiple cat household and was socialized to other cats. She LOVED spending time on the screen porch, couldn’t get enough. She also used our BIG, CLEAN, litter boxes, all 13 of them, just fine. We set her up for success.

Overtime, I could see her knees worsening, you could watch them pop as she walked. I related entirely as I also have a dislocating knee and know just how scary and uncomfortable of a sensation this can be. After a lot of debate, we decided to do surgery on the worst knee. The cost of the surgery was a fortune for us at the time and my employer decided that she would pay for half of the cost of the surgery as my Christmas bonus that year! How nice was that!? No help from the relative that gave her up though, not that I expected it, but after all the effort put forth to help this cat, obtaining her, bringing her into my home, fixing her medical problems and now TWO huge surgeries…I’m pretty sure the mentality was that she was a lemon and should have just been euthanized. This was an incredibly sweet cat that deserved a chance at life, you do not just kill them when they inconvenience you. Sunflower deserved better.

She loved our screened porch.

Cuddling together. She was a very sweet cat.

In the "recovery bathroom".

I honestly do not recall, and the records are buried in the crawlspace (because apparently, I need to keep those but not reference them in times like these! Sheesh!) but I do not think she was even five years old when we said goodbye. I’m sure the stress of the knee surgery unleashed some evil demons early, it would have all happened the same way eventually, but I think the stress pushed things along. She was the first cat I had to make the decision to euthanize. The fur on her leg had not even fully grown back in by the time she had to go. It was very hard knowing how young she was, how hard her little life was and all she had been through. She was also totally in there mentally when it was time, but the mass was huge, and she stopped eating, so we had to do it.

I hope in the end that we helped her feel better, at least for a while. Most of all we gave her stability, a family and hopefully a really fun place to be a cat and thrive if even for just a little while.

We did our best for you Sunny Sunflowers. We will continue the theme in your honor when and if more calicos come our way.

So, we proceeded with the knee surgery, and she was on “bed rest” in the bathroom, not allowed to jump or climb. Our infamous bathroom of rehabilitation. Everyone gets to spend some time there at some point. Those who know me well know exactly what I am talking about, you’ve seen it and squeezed in there for a visit a time or two. She was recovering well, eating, pain was controlled and she enjoyed all of the extra attention and nursing care. Then, one day she started having really bloody stools. Everyone freaks out when they see blood in the stool, but blood is not diagnostic of anything in particular and typically means that the GI tract is simply irritated. Intestinal parasites and inflammation can cause blood in the stool. I did not freak out. But then the stools got softer, and she wasn’t eating great, and looked thinner. I was still super new to this profession compared to where I am now, but when I palpated her abdomen, I felt something funny, hard and knobby. Up to the clinic she went, and x-rays showed a mass in her abdomen. Knowing what I know now and seeing how very fast it grew, I’d place bets it was large cell lymphoma. So that was that, no more bathroom confinement to recover from the knee surgery, she needed to have as much fun as she could have, there wasn’t much time left.

Post op pic.

Love these pics on the sunflower throw blanket. So fitting!

Muses

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