Muses

Grant

Professional photo shoot! So glad we did this before we lost him.

Grant Parkus Malarkus is what we called him. Oh, he was a wild one!

Grant found us. The day after Thanksgiving one year (1999, I believe), Jake took Maple for a walk. He was cruisin’ up Grant Street when this black and tan dog came up to them both and started following them. He had a collar but no tags and was not neutered. Jake even tried to lose him, and he would disappear down a street or behind a house only to find them again. He followed Jake and Maple all the way home and sat outside our fence gate patiently waiting to be allowed in. Jake called me, I was at work, story of my life, and tells me he found this “huge dog”. Mind you, Jake grew up with Bassett Hounds and I grew up with a St. Bernard/Black Lab mix and a full-size Collie. I came to discover that Grant was not huge. But he had a HUGE personality!

I love this pic, the should have pitchforks.

Grant lifted his leg in the house, chased the cats, constantly wanted to hump and spar with Maple, he was BUSY! We quickly found his niche, agility! In addition to basic obedience, we always trained our dogs in advanced obedience which included off leash commands, but Grant was the first to try agility and he was a natural. We didn’t seek out competitions, it was more just for fun and to wear him out. He did win a prize once; at a fundraising gig they had a best trick contest, and he could easily jump the police barricades like a gazelle! The crowd was so impressed, I’m sure the Atlanta police were impressed that we snagged one of their barricades for the contest, oh well.

Full sized soccer balls were a favorite toy.

Daddy and Grant at obedience class.

Grant was a people pleaser. He was always trying so hard to do the right thing but in the process was annoying to most of our friends and family. He was that dog that dropped the slobbery ball in your lap, licked you and pawed at you for attention, but he was also a cuddler and loved nothing more than to curl up on the couch with you like a little deer fawn. It was always remarkable how small he could make his 80-pound self. After a lot of training and home modifications to help meet the cat’s needs vertically, he achieved his canine good citizenship and even cuddled with the cats, and they groomed him.

Dark, but he enjoyed the slide at the playground!

Cuddling with Mammas.

Grant, Kodiak and Lefty (in the background).

Cuddling with charcoal.

Clearly Grant's behavior improved around he cats and he thought they were pillows!

Cuddling with Shadow.

When Yukon came along, the purebred German Shepard, we felt Grant and Maple needed some fancy titles too. So, Grant became our “Georgian Rodent Tracker” and Maple our “Scandinavian Rabbit Hound”! We thought these were quite clever!

Grant was a bold dog. He went nuts when Jake would skate in the driveway and even jumped the fence to join him. He would pick the skateboard up in his mouth and carry it like a bone! He even tried to battle with the lawnmower. It did not scare him when it was on and when it was off, he would pick it up by one of the wheels and drag it around the yard! I’m telling you; this dog had some energy!

Old skool picnic table hopping, Grant!

Getting...

the skateboard.

Our little "Thrasher"

He lived hard and died young, at the age of 9 years he met the same fate that multiple of our subsequent dogs would succumb to later in life. Fine one minute gone the next is the story of the ruptured splenic mass. Went for his usual walked the day he died, reached up to the kitchen sink to grab an empty can of cat food and lick out its contents and then he was suddenly acutely lethargic. We rushed him to the ER and did the surgery despite many warnings it would be futile. He only made it 9 days post op.

So astute!

Favorite, squeaky red ball still sits on his urn to this day.

The whole pack. They were quite the trio.

We brought him home to say goodbye. First, I took him to the stone bridge that he routinely jumped on in Grant Park so he could see it one last time. Then, when we got back home, he jumped out of the car on his own despite a painful abdomen filling with blood, lifted his leg one last time on the deck railing and walked right up the stairs, laid down on his bed and there he rested. We were in awe of his strength. We have come to learn that splenic cancer is quite common in large and giant breed dogs and since it often takes them so young, they are still quite strong and able-bodied when afflicted. It impressed us, nonetheless. We tried to keep him from peeing on inappropriate things his whole life but marking the deck railing as his last hurrah was absolutely perfect. Aptly so, his ID tag was a fire hydrant! The biggest, boldest, and naughtiest leave the biggest holes.

Shaking paws, with his hydrant tag, goodbye Grant.

Mr. Wallace (OG-Wally)

Wallace looking terrified during the professional photo shoot.

Mr. Wallace came to us under some pretty challenging circumstances. This story is a delicate one to tell.

I will start by saying that not everyone in this profession is capable of rescuing and managing a lot of cats/animals. I sit here and share all of these animals with you, boasting about how many we cared for at one time and how great their lives were, how clean our home was and still is, how great the medical care that they have all received has been. And it is all true, we practice what we preach here. But the fact of the matter is, not everyone is capable. Many people do not have the time (or won’t make the time), many do not have any help and are just one person and, over time, caring for double digits of pets can become physically and emotionally exhausting, and some people just check out. They might decide to travel, they may rehome their pets, they may just stop upholding the standards of care the pets had been accustomed to, they may just check out altogether, which is what Wally’s human did.

Wally’s story began when I was asked to pet sit for a co-worker. This was 20+ years ago now, so things were a bit “looser”. I was handed a key and a note with a few scribbled down instructions. That’s it! The end (You should see my pet sitting notes-I am like a crazy person). After work one October night, off I went for my first visit to this house. Upon arrival, nothing super crazy, unkempt yard, dingy carport type area, an old bungalow that needed fixing up. Inside was a different and much more alarming situation, no working lights, none, zero. It was dark, mind you. I had never been there before, I had no idea where anything was, I was completely at a loss. This was long before cell phone flashlights. I had to keep the refrigerator door open for light. It was a bit frightening to say the least, it felt like I was in a scary Halloween movie, and I would soon be fighting for my life. Seriously.

There was no food in the fridge, the oven was full of picture frames and prints, there were stacks of unopened gifts on the dining room table, and many other strange details I will not disclose. Most sadly, when I made it out to an area, I’m not quite sure what to call it, kind of like a finished carport recreation room, there was some light from the streetlights coming through the windows. I saw a 20-pound bag Science Diet Light dry cat food; the bottom corner of the bag had been chewed through and there were only a few pieces of kibble scattered around on the floor. There was some food in the few bowls I could locate but clearly, I needed to come back with supplies. I could not find any other food; I could not find a can opener or where the litter boxes where. I called Jake in tears, I was horrified, this was a colleague for Christ’s sake. I filled the water bowls that I was able to locate and left to come back the next day, with some light bulbs!!!!!

So handsome!

Multiple staff accompanied me back to the house the next day. It was really something to see the home in daylight. It did not really look as if anyone lived there, but 15 cats did, and they needed our help. Little did I know when I took this pet sitting gig that this would basically my first hoarding case. We scooped all the boxes and gave food and water and tried to put eyes on everyone, but the cats were so terrified that all of these strangers were in their home, they were tough to locate.

On the third day, we made the decision to confiscate the cats and bring them back to the vet clinic to provide medical care and safe haven while we figured out what the hell we were going to do. Upon arrival at the clinic we set everyone up in boarding cages, cats that we knew were friends we boarded together so they could have that comfort and we went through the list of patients in the medical record to be sure we got everyone. But someone was missing…we had turned that house all kinds of upside down catching these cats, but we had to go back. Wally was the missing cat, we finally found him up inside a box spring in what was possibly a guest bedroom. Needless to say, the whole ordeal was traumatic for all involved and went on far beyond the scope of this story.

Cat's cats NEED to live with other cats!

Wally grew up with dogs and liked them too!

So, long story long, Wally, became Mr. Wallace to us! And he lived under furniture in our home for YEARS. He loved the other cats, Charcoal was his absolute best friend, he even liked the dogs. For years we never saw him use a litter box, almost never saw him eat, we rarely touched him except for monthly heartworm prevention and nail trims. This was fine with us, he was safe.

Wally was clearly a very shy, poorly socialized cat. He was a cat’s cat and not interested in humans so much. Eventually these cats were all released from their boarding cages and lived in the clinic until they found homes, Wally lived under the cages. He was never seen and impossible to show to adopters. Jake came to meet him and well, he looked at a white blob of fur under the cages. There were a few reasons I was drawn to Wally. First, it is no secret I adore “the Meezers” (Siamese cats for those unfamiliar with the term), we didn’t have a flame point after all, Wally was like completing our set! Ha! But obviously, it was his story and his trauma that really tugged at me. Having been to the house and helped to rescue him myself really connected us, at least as a human, I do realize that Wally could’ve cared less about me. I felt that even if he got adopted, he would likely be adopted because he was pretty and then returned because he was so timid. See how I could twist and justify how they needed me? Many of you are not at all blind to this, I know it! We had a house full of cats, we did not “need” another cat, but he would be happy there, have feline friends and zero expectation from us to be something he was not.

He had a lot of friends!

Naughty, naughty! Someone found the fireplace.

Oh, dear, Mr. Wallace.

There is no miraculous “and then one day…” tale to tell. The day he found the fireplace proved stressful as that resulted in a surprise bath, further reinforcing his idea to steer clear of humans! He just very gradually came out of his shell and learned to trust us. He eventually even made his way to the sofa! It was AWESOME. Sadly, we waited many years for this so we didn’t get to cuddle and enjoy each other for as long as we would have liked.

At the surgeons to see what was wrong.

He developed a very rare and weird kidney issue. One day I saw him urinate on the floor and it looked like he peed dried coffee grounds!!! Turns out, it was dried blood coming from his kidneys. These particles were clumping together and obstructing his ability to urinate. It was super weird. We have never seen anything like it before or since, but Wallace could not pee! At the age of 17 he ended up having a perineal urethrostomy, (a P/U surgery), which basically means he had his penis removed and was turned into a lady so he could pee! He surprisingly held steady for quite some time post op, kidney disease and subsequent anemia finally got him.

His urine with the dried blood!

Lip Lickin' good!

Best friends, Charcoal was with him in his last moments.

Fiercely hunting catnip stuffed mice.

Doing tricks!

Mr. Wallace often looked like he should have top hat and cane. To us, he looked like Mr. Peanut from the Planters nuts commercial. He was just precious. He was so very sophisticated looking. He was also a very polite beggar. He even started to allow guests to interact with him in his senior years and would gently pull their arm towards him requesting a bit of cheese! Just like Wallace from Wallace and Grommit, Wally liked cheese! So cute.

I am very grateful that Jake and I are capable and able bodied to do what we have done and to have saved all of those we have saved. Together we have fulfilled one of my lifelong dreams which is not something everyone gets to say.

Politely begging for cheese!

Mr. Wallace

Wally and Simon, surprise cuddle session under the foot stool.

Charcoal

Charcoal was a beefy, thick unneutered male. He had those giant, hammerhead shark, intact male cheeks and was very well muscled throughout his body. I called him the “Pitbull of cats” because he was so muscular. He likely spent his days perusing the countryside wooing the lady kitties and then found himself caught and thrown into a stainless-steel cage at the shelter. We all know the kind. Stainless, cold, and loud, lined with newspapers as a laughable source of bedding and a rinky dink tiny litter pan. If he was lucky, he would be provided a small amount of food and water that hopefully he didn’t spill in his frantic attempts to reach out for affection through the cage bars. Charcoal was lucky. He was handsome, young, and full of life. He caught the eye of one of the rescue folks and was pulled before he met an untimely end.

I met Charcoal in the isolation room at my first clinic. He had been brought in after being pulled from a kill shelter almost exactly one month prior to my employment there. He needed to be neutered, but like so many, he had developed an upper respiratory infection due to the stress of the shelter. He was examined, dewormed and started on antibiotics. I was training in our treatment area at the time and part of that training was to care for the cats in isolation.

Sexy beast!

You can appreciate how muscular he was here.

So, he ended up in yet another cage in the isolation room. He had mucous and snot pouring out of his eyes and nostrils, sneezing and hacking. I would like to think that he recognized the difference between the accommodations at the clinic verses the shelter. He had soft plush bedding, toys, towels, nice clean litter pans, canned and dry food provided twice a day, meds to help him feel better and he had me. I came along about a month after he had arrived, but I was smitten right away.

As he started to feel better, he really wanted out of that crazy making box! I would take care of everyone and then let him out to play with the feline flyer feather toy. And could he fly! He would jump 5 feet in the air, thudding to the floor. Jake and I later nicknamed him “Charcoal Briquette” because he was like a ton of bricks. He walked heavy, jumped heavy, and while he was graceful and light on his feet, he had a heavy foot step. He was like having a ton of bricks on your chest. Well, this is how he landed on the isolation room floor during play, and we got in trouble! The doctor whose exam room was beneath the Isolation room told me we needed to keep it down because we were disturbing her appointments. I really wanted to get him free and out of there. He was neutered and the stress of the surgery resulted in yet another upper respiratory infection. He spent a couple of months in the Iso room and at the time I thought it wasn’t that bad, at least he was safe. Looking back, I now know how very glum, brown, dark and dreary that room was, but he was safe.

I had never seen a cat like Charcoal before. His coat pattern was called a “smoke”. To the untrained eye he looked like a black and white tuxedo, but he had white fur underneath the topcoat, which was black. This gave him a smoked, charcoal gray appearance, hence the name. He was beautiful and to this day, so many years later, I have seen other smoked cats, but rarely a smoked tuxedo, he was special.

Needless to say, when he finally got free and came down to be with us in the main part of the clinic he was naughty! He had pent up frustration from being confined for so long and he was so thrilled to have friends to play with, and stuff, he really like “stuff”, he played with anything. One day, on my day off, I got a call from the owner of the practice, “Come get your cat”, she said to me! He was taking the phone of the hook, spilled coffee, knocking over the pen cup into the clinic cat’s litter pan below. Naughty, mischievous, curious, driven, strong, intelligent, these are all good adjectives to describe Charcoal.

Professional photo shoot pics.

He did not take a bad picture!

He was such a sweetie!

We alternated weekend shifts at the clinic and on one of my weekends off I received a call from one of my co-workers who was doing adoptions that day. She said she had some people interested in BOTH Isaac (later Kodiak) and Charcoal, and that I needed to choose who I was taking home or if I was taking both of them. When I started there, only a few months earlier, I had 5 cats. I took Peaches home my first week, then Mammas and her kittens a few weeks later. Charcoal and Kodiak would make number 12 and 13, insane right? Well, I chose Charcoal, and I spent the whole weekend with my stomach tied in knots wondering if Isaac (Kodiak) was going to be there Monday morning when I walked in. Well, he was!!! Charry and Kody were friends and went to bed every night in the same room together and I really did not want to separate them. So…I adopted them both as a pair shortly thereafter as that situation made me realize that I could not let either of them go.

Simon, Mammas and Charcoal.

An old man here with his buddy, Hitch.

He loved life at our “cat house”. He climbed the 6-foot scratch poles we installed and walked the cat walks. He lived on the screen porch whenever it was open for business. He used to love to sit on his cat perch and reach for the hammock swing, grab one string with his razorblade claws and gnaw on it. We joked that he was trying to sabotage it so that one day he would have the strings thinned enough that whoever was sitting in it would fall to the floor! He loved interactive toys, he was a master forager, and he adored those little “sparkly puff” balls. He would get one in his mouth and call and yowl, we loved that. Charcoal also liked to box! If we “put up our dukes” he would bat at our fists and box with us, it was super cute! He was the kind of cat that wanted to be with you, but not held, wanted to be next to you on the sofa but not on your lap. There is nothing wrong with this! So many people seem to be disappointed in not having a lap cat. Having a “right by your side cat” can be just as wonderful.

Lined up for waiting for meds time!

He jowl rubbed and marked the bejesus out of me his whole life. I was convinced that he was the reason I have struggled with acne around my chin for so many years! He did it to Jake too, loved to rub on his goatee fuzz. This type of marking denotes ownership, and he was marking me as his human. I was happy to wear the title. I once had a client give up their cat for jowl rubbing the walls and leaving brown marks on the corners. I explained to this insensitive human that her cat loved her, her home, and was marking her space because she was happy and comfortable there. This human didn’t care and gave the cat, Katie, away anyway. I asked her if she had ever heard of a sponge and escorted her out of the building. It is a disgrace the expectations people have of these guys and how so many humans have no desire to have empathy for and learn about that which they do not understand.

Enjoying his screen porch, wish we had a catio back then.

Charcoal integrated nicely into our home; he was always quite the gentleman. He got along with everyone; he never presented any behavior challenges that I can recall. I cannot tell you that I learned something miraculous from sharing life with him that made me a better behavior consultant. Charcoal was Switzerland in our house. He was often the first to make friends with a newcomer; in fact, he became Hitch’s first friend and wrestle buddy, even with the age difference of 12 years between them!

Here he is trying to sabotage our hammock swing!

Skinny, but doing great here. Skinny is not a disease!

Charcoal was pretty low maintenance for most of his life. I act preventatively and treat what I can early, and he had of course had the benefit of some arthritis supplements, antioxidants and O3’s since he was senior. When he was about 14 he started having inflammatory bowel disease (IBD) type symptoms. It wasn’t severe, just some bouts of soft stool that would easily clear up with meds. Over time the bouts became more frequent and harder to resolve, and he began to very gradually lose weight. Lab work and radiographs were normal and ultrasound revealed ropey intestines from IBD but that was all.

Charcoal and Kodiak Bears, the early years!

This photo really shows his masculine figure and his coat beautifully.

So, we treated him. After all, this was an extremely common problem affecting cats, mostly seniors and we were very familiar with the treatment protocols. As his symptoms progressed it was assumed that, like so many, the disease had morphed into Small Cell Lymphoma. Chronic inflammation over time likes to become cancer, and cats are no stranger to this phenomenon. Charcoal was strong, and quite honestly, just wouldn’t die! He went from about 14# when first becoming affected to 5.82# the day he left us. This weight loss was extremely gradual. As I have learned, Small Cell Lymphoma is a wasting disease. These animals rarely get a single solitary mass, rather the cancer is diffuse throughout the GI tract, and they simply do not absorb all of the nutrients in their food and waste away. I have never treated a cat so successfully with a long-term chronic disease as I did Charcoal. He never really seemed to feel bad. Polypharmacy is what I believe his care protocol would have been coined. Chemo drugs, steroids, daily fluid therapy, Vitamin B12, omega 3 fatty acid supplements, antioxidants and a myriad of other meds were managing him quite nicely. Through it all this cat continued to play, forage, and sleep on his favorite heated beds, he even climbed the 6-foot-tall scratch poles! He had quality. I think what readers should take away from this is that preventative veterinary care, treating problems early, and actually administering the meds prescribed makes all the difference. We had him micromanaged and would just tweak his medication recipe if his needs changed.

Super Manders.

Charcoal finally left us on February 22^nd, 2014 one week shy of his estimated 17^th birthday. He was still fighting and struggling to go on. He was such a strong cat and a strong personality. Like our dog Grant, who Charcoal was also friends with, he was never going to appear weak. Despite his wobbliness, and difficulty walking he climbed the stairs to our bedroom one last time and got up on our bed and under the covers. It was hard to make the decision to finally call it. There was a chance that all the immune suppressive drugs had sparked an ear infection causing him to walk as if he were drunk and stumble to one side. But we really wanted him to let go with dignity and strength. If there was an ear infection, how much more time would treating that buy us with only 5.82# of Charcoal left? There was not one more med left to give him to treat his cancer. He had been on 14 different drugs and supplements for the past year, daily fluids, an appetite stimulant to keep him eating well. The morning of the day we let him go, he had jumped up on the kitchen counter and ate his snickers bars for cats, a packet of Whiskas and even an entire jar of baby food.

Our handsome boy.

All of his friends were with us to let him go, at this stage we did not have very many cats left or so it felt, until we were down to the four we have as I write this. Simon came over and nibbled on his ear, Vader sniffed his head and went and lay down beside us. Mammas came and sniffed him, Hitch groomed his forehead. We knew he would have to really be ready or he would fight too much. He was ready, there was no struggle, and our dear sweet Charry Manders, left us forever.

The house is quiet; we miss him screaming at us for his breakfast (the appetite stimulant made him a bit demanding but we liked that!)

The sofa is a little emptier at night.

The bed is a little colder.

Just love this photo.

Kodiak Bears

A thoughtful pose taken during our professional photo shoot!

Kodiak was brought into the practice where I was employed at the time. His original name was Issac. He had been abandoned outside of an apartment complex and brought in by a local cat rescue. He was a stunning cat, but Kodiak had some baggage. He was all four-paw declawed (AND LEFT OUTSIDE!) We performed our usual intake protocol getting him ready for adoption, but in doing so we discovered how mutilated his little feet were. Nonetheless, we put him in our adoption room in hopes of finding him a new family. He was marveled at and inquired about daily; he was super handsome after all.

We learned quite quickly that Kodiak was a biter, likely why he was left outside where he was defenseless having no claws. We began warning people not to touch or pet him too much. It is a bit challenging to adopt out a cat when you have to tell people not to interact with him. He was so soliciting of affection and good looking making him a bit hard to resist. Finally, we had a taker. A cat savvy parent that understood he was a bite risk but wanted to take on the challenge anyway. We adopted Kodiak to her with specific instructions on managing the behavior. Fingers crossed off he went to home number two.

A few weeks later Kodiak was returned for biting. It happened a few too many times and a bit too hard, so the family decided it was not the right fit. So, does declawing keep cats in their homes? The answer is vehemently no.

We decided to look a little further into Kodiak’s aggression by x-raying his feet and discovered he had some bone remnants from his declaw. Since the cells for the nail come from the bone, if the entire P3 bone is not completely removed, you get regrowth of nail under the skin. We decided to do surgery to “fix” this, which basically involved re-declawing him. We did not offer declawing at this feline only practice so it was my first experience with the procedure. I was horrified and sobbing upon his bloody recovery from anesthesia. I will liken it to slaughtering your own cow for a steak dinner. For the majority of people, if they had to kill it to eat it, probably wouldn’t. If clients could watch a video of a declaw surgery and the cat’s recovery post op before electing to do it to their beloved cat, they wouldn’t. Sheltering clients from the gruesome facts is an enormous part of the “cover up” that is happening in veterinary medicine.

Photo taken during the Cats101 filming on Animal Planet!

More before smartphones photos.

Kodiak could no longer be trusted in the adoption room. He was a liability, so he lived in the back of the hospital where I became extremely attached to and empathetic for him. I’ll never forget the day I saw him scratch on one of the posts at the clinic, it made me choked up that he knew just what to do, remember cats also scratch to scent mark so even without claws the behavior is performed. So I took him home and Jake and I became home number three that I know of, and this would be his last stop because we do not give up on animals, no matter what. The baggage was still there, and we learned to recognize and work with him but you ALWAYS had to watch yourself around Kody Bears. He proceeded to have more re-growths on different toes at different stages of his life. Kodiak was declawed initially and then re-declawed 3 subsequent times. We know more now and we know better; we should have opened up all four feet and just corrected his botched declaw from the start, perhaps two feet at a time, but hindsight is 20/20. Kodiak developed one last regrowth in his senior years but I couldn’t do it to him again. I chose to medically manage him and treat him for chronic pain instead.

Italiano Bears on the counter, "helping".

Shadow and Kodiak.

Fireside Bears.

Kody had another good friend at the clinic, Charcoal. Honestly, I was having a hard time choosing between which of the two I would adopt. One Saturday when I was off from work, I got a call from one of the other techs asking me to choose because a family was interested in both of them but only wanted one cat. I was in tears, I couldn’t! I know I picked one, I think it was Charcoal, but I honestly cannot remember. I was nauseous when I arrived that next Monday morning wondering who was going to still be there waiting for me. They were both there! We adopted them as a pair. You will meet the stunning Charcoal next month.

Kodias Bears! So many nicknames for this one, OMG! Bears was also quite the chef, he assisted Jake in the kitchen nightly and ate most everything offered that was of course non-toxic. We used to call him “Italiano Bears!” His dream was to go to Italy and have bruschetta, boy oh boy did he love cheese. No matter what we called him, his name always ended on the plural and that carried over to pretty much everybody, we don’t know why, it’s just what we do! He also enjoyed sparkly puff balls and regularly did the “calling” behavior that I so adore.

Bears, Wiccas and Charcoal.

Charcoal and Bears cuddling with Grant below.

Being a "real artic bear" in he snow.

Trying out my new stethoscope.

I LOVE this pic! Eleven on the bed at once is our record.

This cat remained unmanageable at the vet for the rest of his life. I would bring him up for his annual visits and we would examine and vaccinate him in the car. The vet’s office was associated with horrific pain. Another result of these procedures is that cats often miss out on veterinary care due their temperament, or they must be sedated for appointments due to their increased aggression.

One morning I woke up and found him deceased in the red room/extra bedroom. I yelled to Jake who came running out of bed, he and Jake were super tight. It was ok, for Bears this was the best way for him to leave us. I hate not being able to say goodbye, I much prefer to nurse and spoil them. I know everyone is different, but I personally loathe it when they are ripped away from me, but for Bears this was for the best. He hated the vet and the last thing I would’ve wanted was a struggle at the time of euthanasia.

His "school boy" photo.

Living at the clinic post housefire.

Beached whale Bears.

If you must alter a species to the extent of a 10-toe amputation (or worse, all 18 toes) just to be able to live with them, then I ask, why have you chosen this species with which to share your home? Scratching is an innate feline behavior; it would be like asking a dog not to bark or a bird not to fly.

I leave you with a quote from Jeremy Bentham, “The question is not “Can they reason?” nor, “Can they talk?” but, “Can they suffer?“

The answer? Yes, indeed cats can suffer and they do so at the hands of their doctors every day in this country. It is time to end the suffering. I hope this story has moved you to join the crusade to end declawing in the United States. Please consider joining or donating to the Paw Project and help us end this madness.

On behalf of the memory of Kodiak Bears please stop the suffering.

Freyja

Probably about 16 or 17 years old here!

Freyja was honestly one of the kittens that drew the urge to keep the whole litter, I just thought she was so scrumptious. She grew up to be, what I think, was our most beautiful cat we have ever had. She lived up the goddess’s name we bestowed her. Our best friends nicknamed her Sasquatch! They would pet sit for us and leave us notes (remember, she was around before smartphones) or send texts that they had a “Sasquatch sighting!” I always thought this was hilarious but also tells you how elusive she was. She had no shortage of nicknames that is for sure. One that stuck the most, was “Bloomies” or “Bloomers”. You see, I have a thing for calling everyone some variation of “pants”, Leftypants, tortiepants, you name it. Freyja was too classy for pants, she wore bloomers! She also shopped at Bloomingdales (she told me), “Bloomingdale Blooms” was not a rare thing to hear me shouting around the house! I do realize that I am mildly insane, but hey, it’s fun to have nicknames!

Our dear Freyja. Her name means the goddess of love and beauty in Norse mythology. If you have not gathered by now, I’m of Swedish and Norwegian heritage so we have a bit of Scandinavian flare with some of the names we have chosen over the years. Freyja is the last kitten to feature in the “Mammas and her babies” category. I am sharing everyone in the order that we adopted them!

Freyja was a shy kitten and remained a shy cat for most of her life. This is a good life lesson for all of us. You cannot necessarily make a cat be who you want them to be. I adopted these kittens at barely 4 weeks old and they were all so different, every single one of them! Loads of commonality too, so much so that I do think there was only one father, plus the color patterns makes sense, and lead to just the one dad. Still, so much personality variation and I raised them all the same, offering the same experiences. I think it is important to learn to love your cats for who they are and the unique qualities each one offers.

You had to sneak up on her for good pics!

Full blown Sasquatch mode right here! Look at that lush coat.

She was a screamer like her siblings, the whole family was so vocal. I can recall all of the typical young cat naughtiness she embraced like getting in the fireplace, shy, skittish, super fun to bathe! If you even made eye contact with her downstairs she would bolt, you definitely could not bend over and pet her or pick her up! No way! However, she did always seem to know that when you were on the toilet, fresh out of the shower or horizontal in bed and that meant you were safe. She would get on our chests and embrace shoulder scratches and drool little drool drops right into our mouths if we weren’t careful! Such a wonderful purr and cooing, it was a special gift. I was the only one who could medicate her and trim her nails her whole life!

Chillin' in her condo. Look but do not touch!

Captured a pic of her playing! A rare photo indeed.

Some pics are not the best because so elusive!

It was as a senior that we really got to know and appreciate her. She gradually started to lose her hearing and it was actually a good thing! We had a new cat! She was far less noise phobic, she started to come downstairs to “meds time” wondering what all the fuss was about, she started to allow us to handle her and once in a while she would grace us with her presence of the sofa. If Freyja came to see you , you did not dare to breathe or move a muscle, it was a special gift and you embraced it! I even trained her to a leash and harness at 18 years of age and she enjoyed our “supervised yard fun” time. It was amazing!

So many words! "You're doing it wrong!" Is what I'm sure she is saying!

Waiting for our bi-cavity ultrasound at the internist's office!

At the vet for lab work recheck.

She lived almost exclusively upstairs at the top of the “treehouse” (the vertical space treehouse we built in our master bedroom) until she lost her hearing. Then she decided she needed a change of scenery and decided to join the family. It was awesome. She pretty much set up shop on a cat condo right in-between the kitchen and living room, she was in the heart of the action for her last 4-5 years of life. She would bark orders at us from the top of the condo, it was glorious! She demanded a lot of room service and we obliged, we were a very dedicated staff. This also led to us missing her more than we ever thought because she blossomed into such a big personality!

Enjoying meds time with a syringe of yummy food.

A "Mommy and Me" day at the office!

Still puzzlin'! Foraging right up until the end.

"Did someone say sparkly puff?"

This cat played with interactive wand toys and foraged for food up until a few weeks before she died. She was also a fierce hunter of sparkly puff balls and “called” while carrying through the house. This is a behavior that we sorely miss and loved the sound of her “calling” us to a meal with her prey. She also truly loved our dogs, groomed them, and even herded them! It was pretty hilarious to watch 20 year old, 7# Freyja, tell 100# Sebastian that he needs to move, “no, over here, never mind go over there!” And he would go! She had a lot of opinions! Her quality of life was outstanding. Even at 21 years of age, the top of a six-foot-tall cat condo (complete with heating pad) was where she lived. Needless to say, I start joint support very early in life, she started around age 12, and never showed a single symptom of arthritis or stiffness.

Freyja loved all of her doggies. She groomed them and taught them well!

Freyja blooms knew every single animal that I have cared for in my adult life. She was strong, survived so much, including our housefire, and had great quality of life well into her geriatric years. She is dearly missed, but we hold no regrets with this one. Others have left us feeling robbed and heartbroken. Some we did so much for and still lost them so young. Twenty-one years, 5 months and 10 days is a pretty good run that we can accept. She will always be our beautiful goddess.

Her last day with us, since 4 weeks old. We had a good run. She was finally tired.

How lucky are we to have these amazing and gorgeous animals that someone else just threw away?

Simon

Simon during professional photo shoot reaching for lure toy.

Baby Simon and family.

Simon the “sci-fi guy” was another one of Asia’s four kittens and littermate to Vader, Wick and Freyja. Having a seal point Siamese was certainly on my “dream cat” list. I thought I could never have one without purchasing one, which I would never do. Boy, was I wrong, as there are a ridiculous number of purebred or purebred looking cats in need of adoption. Simon may not have been a “real Siamese”, but he had all the fantastic qualities and was loaded with personality.

Simon LOVED his mother. He was a mamma’s boy to the core, nursed until he was about 9 months old (or tried to at least), constantly followed her around. She smacked him away a lot, he kept coming back for more, he was relentless. We never intervened, she was an excellent mother and knew far better than we did how to communicate with her children. You can see evidence in so many of the photos, though I tried hard to show pics that she was not in just for something different. Simon was often found cuddled up in a pile of cats, he had a lot of feline friends.

In his "gloves". Note the coat color change throughout life. It's a Siamese thing!

I will never forget the day Jake and I were in a local pizzeria and Simon appeared on television! There was your typical football broadcast on most of the TV’s but the one near where we were sitting had Animal Planet playing. When our home and family were filmed for Animal Planet’s Cats101 TV show we signed our lives away and they had permission to use the B roll footage however they wanted. There was a segment on “America’s Most Vocal Cats” show and there was our silly Simon! Simon was a screamer. We adored how chatty he was, full conversations were had with he and his family members. He cooed and trilled and brrrpped like nobody’s business! Needless to say, we were pretty blown away to see our cat on TV in a public place when we had not a clue it was going to happen. Later, we found some clips from our home and Cats 101 shoot on the “Must Love Cats” TV show theme song.

Holiday time Simon and friends!

Someone is very excited about kittens!

A posing Simon.

Since he was with us for 19 years he grew and changed with me as I learned more and dove into this career in cat behavior. He learned clicker training around 10-12 years of age and was great at it, he stars in many of my educational videos and of course was a fantastic forager. I have video of him learning new puzzle toys at age 18. I liken food puzzles to a human keeping their mind sharp via crossword puzzles, reading and the like. Simon kept learning.

Simon and Freyja as teenagers.

We really had a houseful at one point.

Cuddling with his mother and sister.

Cuddling with Soren.

Cuddling with Wally.

Strollin'!!

Cuddling with Baby Willow!

Clicker training, learning to target a mat.

Enjoying supervised yard time wondering why we didn't do this his whole life!

Bookends!

Simon and Wiccas, siblings.

Lived long enough to enjoy our first catio!

One thing I have prided myself on with many of our cats, but Simon most especially, was his distinct independence and will to live. We provide a life here that allows choice, helps them thrive by following a routine and this really helps one gauge their quality as they age. Simon deteriorated VERY slowly and had excellent quality of life right to the very end. We treat chronic disease early and act as preventatively as possible. Simon was on SQ fluids for 5 years before we lost him! Sure, he became a skinny old geezer, but that cat was still jumping out the living room window like clockwork every morning for his screen porch time. He sought out sunbeams in his favorite spots and foraged, even if just for fun, because we catered to his every whim. He was still chasing interactive wand toys at age 18 years! He knew what he wanted to do, and he maintained his schedule. We are here to care for them, but they have a life without us as well and I think it is important that they have their own “to do” list!

We miss this cat so much; our home is so quiet without him. Keep on screaming Simon!

Traveling Simon!

Muses

Clearly Grant's behavior improved around he cats and he thought they were pillows!

Footer