Muses

Sebastian

One of my all time favorite photos of this dog! Taken the very next day after we rescued him-so happy! Beware of Bash!

Sebastian became a part of our family after being dogless for a whole 13 months. We had been waiting and pondering about who our next giant would be, but nothing had stuck. One day, I got a call from my friend and past co-worker that the people that lived next door to the shop where she worked in South Carolina were moving. They had four dogs, 3 tiny ones and Sebastian. Sebastian was not included in their moving plans which included downsizing to a smaller place with less yard; since he was so huge and had spent his entire life 100% outdoors, only the small dogs were coming with them.

I was sent a few pictures and videos so we could get a feel for his size and temperament around his people and other animals. He was definitely a bit of a wild card to bring into this house that, at the time was still chock full of cats. He had lived with a cat in his puppyhood, but that cat was hit by a car early on and was his only experience with cats.

One of only two puppy pics, but glad to have what we have.

He was not neutered, had never been to a vet, did not go for walks on a leash and had no training other than “sit”. He had NO SHELTER, when we arrived! Yes, I know he was a Pyrenees, but that does not matter, he should have had the option for shelter, they are tough, but not invincible. They said he had a doghouse early on but he wouldn’t use it, so they got rid of it. He had about a one-foot overhang around the roof of the shed, and he had dug himself a hole in the clay under their deck and that is where he slept. Clearly flea and heartworm prevention were also off the table. I remember when we pulled into the driveway I said to Jake, “I hope he is really big, what if the videos were deceiving?” In my mind, it is a good deed that we want to rescue these giant beasts as they can be hard to handle and expensive to care for, not to mention a lot of responsibility to keep groomed, so I want to go BIG or bust! We pulled in the driveway and Bash met our vehicle at the fence, he stood. He was nearly six feet tall, and his head was ENORMOUS. I was in love before I even stepped out of the car!

One of only two puppy pics, but glad to have what we have

The below photos depict how unkempt he was when we met him.

Here you can see how matted his mane had become.

As we entered the yard, he switched from guard dog to boisterous and welcoming! I noticed his stainless-steel food bowl hanging from a fence post, filled with kibble and rainwater. His meal was literally floating in water and debris. Sigh. I sat down in the grass, and he smothered me! That was it! We were taking him, he made me so happy, and Jake was so happy to see me so happy!

A healthy coat cools and insulates the body! An unhealthy coat can do neither of those tasks well.

If he didn’t jive with the cats well, then we would foster him and find him safe haven, but we couldn’t leave him there. I remember the woman said to me, “So glad it rained so he got rinsed off for you, he was black a few days ago” (insert eye-roll emoticon here). That was enough, let’s get him in the car, I thought to myself. It was bad enough that he was completely gross to the touch, matted and orange. The car was another thing Sebastian had never experienced. We coaxed and attempted to lure him but ultimately Jake had to pick him up and swiftly close the hatch behind him. Let’s remember, Pyrs are stubborn and not easily bribed by food! The family never even said goodbye to him, in fact, as we were parting I learned that the husband wanted me to pay for him! Yea, no.

I did NOT mind this!

Clearly, starved for love.

Our boy.

On the ride home I sat in the back and combed and brushed the ENTIRE drive home to Atlanta from South Carolina. I weighed the fur and I had exactly ONE POUND of fur that I had combed and brushed out of him. I was filthy when we rolled in the driveway. I was reddish and my arms were textured. He was almost white again however, and you know what? Not a single flea or flea dirt to be found!! Blown away. We needed a bath plan, it started to pour rain just as we got in the yard.

Finally got him in the car! "His people" didn't even say goodbye to him. Unbelievable.

We took cover under our little gazebo, not that Sebastian cared, he was like, “What is this fake plastic grass and where is all of the mud?!” I went inside and got the tub ready with a bazillion towels. He tolerated us, but just this one time. He did stand up, completely erect, covered in soap in the tub! He was A LOT from day one! From that day forward, he became the first dog that was always a two-person job to bathe, all of the other four dogs I could do entirely on my own, but not these Pyr boys, they have opinions!

Looking better already! We haven't even made it home to the ATL yet!

The literal ONE POUND bag of fur! It is very densely stuffed.

Pics of me smothering him in the car on the ride back to Atlanta, dogs love it when strange people do that! 😉

First time in the yard, drizzling rain, "I don't need a bath, I just got brushed out!"

SPARKLING! Now, THAT is our dog!

When all was said and done, Sebastian settled down on his hand me down bed in the living room and chilled. He was so calm and delightful. He was immediately respectful of the cats. Our cats were so dog savvy, they didn’t really give him a choice, “Hello pup, I’m going to rub my face on your face, and you shall stay there and like it! Signed Hitchinson!” He was home. The crate was a different story. Did I mention Pyrs are not so bribable and not always the most food motivated? We struggled for three days to get him in the giant dog crate that we always have set up in our master bedroom, 24/7/365, even if a dog doesn’t use it is a feline hospitalization center should someone need to be on an IV catheter etc. He said no, this was an insane crapshoot but we just could not get him in the crate and we did not want to close him in a room and have him chew through a door, and he was so good….it was stupid, but we left him out in the main kitchen, living, dining space where all of the dogs have had free roam, baby gates separating some of the “feline only” areas and he was an angel. He respected the baby gate. He never ever ate the wet cat food, could leave it on the floor all night and if the cats didn’t eat it all it would still be there in the morning, he didn’t eat cat poop or his own, he didn’t chase the cats or eat their toys. He never ever chewed up anything that was not a dog toy (none of our dogs did-still have all of our remote controls!) He was perfection.

"Thank you for my new puppy! I will love him and hug him and call him, Bash!" ~Hitch

The first week we were eating dinner on the sofa watching TV as many of us non-breeders do and he simply jumped over the arm of the couch, over Jake and landed right in between us and well, we suddenly had a dog we allowed on the couch. We would check in on the home cameras to find him belly up with his head on the pillows. Sometimes he would bark into the air, but not be so bothered that he had to get up. Ridiculous! This dog took in all of the comforts this home had to offer.

Even Hitch was cleaning him-Ha!

An everyday scene. He was shameless.

He absolutely did not mind the bed either.

He shared nicely.

Back when I was trying to get to know him better and asking his previous owner about his likes and dislikes I was told he likes tennis balls and milk bones. Could there have been a more standard answer? I thought to myself, guess you don’t really know him or have not offered him much. Nonetheless, I was sure to have a box of Milk bones here at the house upon is arrival. I’m a big believer in trying to give adoptees all the things they were used to, know their preferences, their nicknames, how they like to be touched and pet, so often we are never privy to this information, but sometimes people just don’t care enough to find out.

"Hello, I'm here to check in for my neuter."

Bash, as he affectionately came to be called, because he bashed into things, learned to forage (no surprise), was offered a repertoire of enrichment items and was trained. He was a spectacle, and we couldn’t get through a walk without being asked, “Is that a Polar Bear?”, “What kind of dog is that?”, “How much does he weigh?”

"Wait, that involves what exactly?"

Post neuter pants. Hey, we had them for Yukon, might as well put them to use!

Initially, Bash was more bonded to me, I trained him, groomed him, taught him how to be part of society. But shortly after we adopted him Jake’s job changed, he was home more, walked him more, Sebastian would hang outside with Jake for hours. They became really close, and I would say that Sebastian was probably the first dog that was more Jake’s than mine.

We were still very close.

We matched, his purple pants and my purple everything.

One day, early on in his time here, Sebastian FOUND A DOG! He was freaking out at the back corner of our yard and there Jake found a brindle and white pit pup with a mangled and twisted harness hiding in our neighbors’ bushes. We thought it was so sweet and they seemed to dig each other at first…we did try to find the owner and also a home, but then we thought, well, we’ve had three before, we can manage two. Well, we could not. Was it testosterone poisoning or just a bad match, I really do not know, but these two would fight, sometimes weeks in-between the spats so we thought things would be ok, but when it happened it was really vicious, and it was all we could do to get them apart. There was blood, dog and human, and that just could not go on. We were quite fortunate to be able to find a home for Lil’ Gus, and he is still living his best life and literally has an entire room in his house filled with hundreds of tennis balls, so that worked out. Bash was into rescue but was not in to sharing his home. And perhaps that was part of it, perhaps it was all just too new, and he was finally the center of attention and he was not about to share that.

His first hike to Red Top Mountain.

Obligatory selfie with the parents.

Daddy, my very own daddy!

Our last hike, Fall of 2021, just didn't know it.

We walked, we hiked mountains, we traveled to Delaware to visit family, we cuddled with kitties, we helped out around the house, helped Jake build his workshop where all of the Fundamentally Feline action happens, we made other BIG friends and TINY friends, Sebastian made up for 2.5 years in solitude, we tried very hard to give him loads of fun experiences and a full life.

Our last hike, Fall of 2021, just didn't know it.

Workshop construction supervision.

Protector of the sisal stash.

Little friend, Yahtzee.

Big friend, Tuuli.

Little friend, Webster.

He inspired aw. He was so graceful and agile for someone so huge. Even his orthopedic doctor was blown away by his agility. So powerful, you usually do not see dogs this size jumping like this, he was not a boarder collie after all. He always gave great hugs. I would say “give me hug” and he would stand up and tightly hold his legs at my waist. He was SO TALL! He makes Sven look like Lil’ Short Stuff. Another funny trait he had was to stand completely erect at the fence. People would be coming by, and he would just stand up, he didn’t even need to lean on the fence with his paws his core was so hardcore. Hello, don’t mind my six-foot-tall dog barking at you as you pass by. Always felt safe here, no one would come in the yard with Bash here.

Couldn't upload a cool video of him jumping and climbing rock walls so just another still pic!

Freyja really loved him, she "herded" him around-hilarious!

Two beauties.

I could've filled this whole post with them, they were ridiculous together.

Hitchinson loved all of the dogs so much.

Cuddling with brother, Simon.

Despite his menacing size, he was truly a gentle giant. Having had little to no experience with children, his instincts told him all he needed to know. If we were on a walk and there was a crying, hysterical child on the street, Bash was immediately alerted and had to go see what was wrong. This could be a little intimidating for some, but most parents welcomed his approach. He would sniff all around the child’s face, nuzzle his head up under their hand, lick their salty tears, and when the crying stopped, he was like, “My work here is done, let’s get on with the walk.” And that was it, he completely lost interest and moved on. It was really cool.

I donated my childhood stuffed animal to him. It was his doppelganger.

We would also call him Pouchiere (Poo cher) as if he were French. He enjoyed cheese rinds that jake would bring him from work and he would specifically bring him cheese from the region where his breed was from so it would be authentic. Yeah, guess he was kind of bougie too, but he deserved it!

Clearly, there were some clues from childhood as to how things were going to pan out for me!

I remember the day we brought Tonka home, wow, that was a NIGHTMARE of a night. Sometimes I look back on these stories and just think, “How did we mange through all of this?” Remember, we adopted Tonka because Finn needed a friend of similar age and activity level as he was too much for our existing cats, just keep that in mind as you continue to read. And this totally comes back to Bash full circle.

Preferred position the bulk of the time. Guess he felt pretty safe here.

I pull in the driveway with Tonka in a carrier and I quickly run inside to set up the bathroom where all cats start their life here and Jake says, “ I think something is wrong with Sebastian, he doesn’t really want to get up”. So, I tend to Bash, try to get him to eat something special, try to get him to stand, try to see what if anything elicits a pain response, take his temperature, simultaneously on the phone with the ER, setting up a bathroom for a new cat. Shit! New cat is still in the car in a carrier! We pretty much tossed Tonka into the bathroom and had to get Bash to the ER. Jake’s closing up the porch and house so we can leave, and he can’t find Finn, what did he find? A GIANT hole in the screen on the catio! Really? So, we then turn into search and rescue mode trying to find Finn in the yard, we do, but he is crazy skiddish and practically feral at this point. We had only had him a month and he is bolting all over our yard and the neighbors’ yard. Little bond or attachment to us at this point. It finally got dark and catching him felt futile, and we had a dog that needed to go to the ER, and we needed a Have a Hart trap, so off we went.

He and Tonka became good friends too!

Let’s recap real quick, we have a brand new cat in the house that we just set up in a room and left all alone, our other new cat, Finn, the reason we adopted Tonka is missing, and our 100# dog suddenly cannot stand up. I, of course, assume the worst based on our history and think ruptured spleen. Off to a great start to the evening, eh?

Me being briefly swallowed by Tonka and Sebastian.

At the ER we determined that Bash had some spinal pain, possibly a herniated disc but they thought nothing that needed surgery, just anti-inflammatories and pain meds and rest, ok, cool. Load up the dog, off to the clinic to get the human traps, then a stop at CVS for dinner (yes-dinner of champions!) and junky, stinky cat food for the traps, and we made it home by 3:30 AM! We ended up leaving the screen porch open, the window to Finn’s room open and I made trail of Greenies Smartbites out into the yard as well as setting the traps. It helped that Tonka vocalized and screamed his head off in the bathroom all night, I think that lured Finn in! Tonka was all, “Hi, I’m your new friend, please come back!” When I awoke at 6 am (yup) I checked the cameras and there was Finn sitting in the middle of the room looking towards the windows, content as can be with himself! I ran around the front of the house, careful not to make a peep and closed all of the doors as I moved towards his window and slammed it closed! Crisis resolved, Bash was up and walking by morning. O. M. G!!!!

We had a few good years, five in fact, but Sebastian slipped away from us as quickly as he integrated. We had a few weirdnesses that arose in the weeks before his passing, but like so many of the others before him, labs, exams, preventative care X-rays were all normal, until they weren’t. February 23^rd, 2022, we reluctantly entered the ER with him again, this time he never came home. I’m not a vet, but I know enough, and I do not feel as though I was treated professionally this time. The staff were very green and not forthcoming with the information I had to guess in order to leave with a half-hearted diagnosis. The diagnosis I guessed at was exactly what was wrong, another god damn ruptured splenic mass that had already metastasized to his liver. His abdomen was full of free fluid, and he was bleeding internally, just like our others. We cuddled him, we cried, we hand fed him what was to be his last meal and turned him over to the ER staff. I can still recall watching him walk away from me behind those doors. We came back to euthanize him the next morning and I truly regret having left him there to spend his last night alone, scared and painful amid bright lights and hecticness, knowing he would likely never come home. I hate how this ended, I absolutely hate it.

Sebastian was our biggest boy to date. We had high hopes he would be our longest lived giant as he seemed so healthy and robust. Great Pyrenees dogs are supposedly one of the longest lived of all of the giant breeds. When we adopted Sven, our adoption counselor told us her first Pyrs lived to be 22 and 21 years old. Sebastian was seven. We feel so cheated, but at the same time so fortunate to have known him and all that came before him. Thank you, Bash, for all of the fantastic memories, for your amazing personality, for how sweet you were protecting our kitties and our home. For absolutely everything.

Bash, Sven got your title, “Guardian of the Cats” but he has some big shoes to fill, we are working on it!

Jake and I carted his very heavy, limp body all the way home and into the house so that the cats could understand why he was gone. It is VERY IMPORTANT to allow your pets to know and understand where their friends have gone to help them with mourning. They understand the smell of death, they need to know so that they are not lost and calling for them, I find this helps immensely with combating depression and inappetence after the loss of a companion animal friend.

Goodbye Bash.

Samson

Samson came to us at 9 ½ years of age. I had known him since he was only 9months old, when he came to see me for his first grooming appointment. Samson was owned by an elderly couple who had never had a cat before. They purchased him from a breeder in South Georgia, and when they went to pick him up the kittens were living on the front porch, free reign! Probably not much of an actual breeder I would suspect. Nonetheless, Samson, a “purebred Ragdoll” was one of the coolest cats I have ever known. Every time they brought him in for grooming, he was a MUSH! He would willingly lay on his back for his stomach shave, I could comb him out, trim his nails, shave his tush all on my own without needing any assistance. He purred through the whole thing. In fact, most of the time, he brushed himself!

Meeting Soren, just introduced!

Exploring his new digs, first few weeks home!

Guess he was feeling pretty "safe" in his safe room!

His parents and I really got to know each other over the years. After all they came in four times a year for a while you wait grooming appointment and visited us in between for medical visits and food pickups. I made it abundantly clear that if anything ever happened to them that I would gladly take Samson and provide him with safe haven. One day, when Samson was about 8 years old, they broke the news to me that his mom had been diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer. She did not have long to live, took a few trips, visited with dear friends, planned her own funeral, and basically had a goodbye gathering before she started to feel really bad. Samson was by her side, like a good little nurse, once she became bedridden. The story is just so sad, when she passed her husband was lying beside her in bed holding her hand and Samson was right there beside her until her last breath. I wasn’t sure what his dad would do, but he kept Samson and tried to do right by him for a year and a half. Then I got the call.

He was a sloshy guys! A MUSH!

Samson’s human, his dad, called the clinic one day and as soon as I was told that he was on the phone I knew why. He told me that he had had a heart attack a few months back and an ambulance came. The doors to the house were left open and all he could think about was what if Samson got outside? He also said that he thought he missed a woman’s touch and that he wasn’t enough for him. I completely understood and told him to bring him to me. Now, this was a bit of a crapshoot mind you, Samson had lived as a single cat his entire life and had never lived with a dog. We had about 9 cats when we brought him home (I think, maybe 11?) and we had Elsa, the Bernese Mountain Dog. This could have proven to be a recipe for disaster, but did I mention how amazing Samson was? He was cool as a cucumber!

The cat loved hard surfaces, sinks, cardboard, no fuzzy beds for Jams!

As per usual Samson was set up in the “purple bathroom”, the room where all animals start and end life in this house. Soren was the ambassador of happiness and welcomed Sammy Jams with open paws. Samson did not eat wet food, cat treats or human food. He was raised on Hill’s t/d his whole life and that was really all he liked; positive reinforcement was a challenge is my point. Oh, yeah and he also “didn’t play”. And well, he didn’t really play a whole lot, but with time we got him interested in and acknowledging some lure toys, mostly liking the stick end and not the attachment. So, for the introduction to the other cats, we got creative, one thing Samson could not get enough of was brushing, so every time he would see the other cats, he was brushed! We put up these baby gates and would play and offer treats to our guys and brush Samson’s little cheeks! Thankfully, he was incredibly easy going and this worked like a dream. He introduced himself to the household quite quickly. It was eating here that was going to be a challenge!

"Can I get some service in this place!?"

We have fed exclusively out of foraging toys for 17 years now. And remember, he didn’t like wet food or treats. Cats typically will not work for food out of food puzzles that has been free, so filling up a food puzzle full of Hill’s t/d was not exactly going to teach him to forage. So, even though Samson was getting along with everyone way quicker than expected, he went to bed in his own room each night so he could learn how to eat in this house! Boy oh boy did I make it easy for him and all of this became excellent fodder for my foraging lecture!

This is Jams, "ordering drinks at the bar!"

Overstuffed foraging board, SUPER easy!

Same foraging board the next morning! He was getting it!

Attempting to offer wet food and an easy foraging cup-open!

I would put Jams in his room with loads of food puzzles, gushing with kibble. I left my Foraging Cups “open” and laid on their side so he could easily extract food with his paws, I gave him super easy muffin tins with a few balls and mice as obstacles (counted the pieces of kibble in each well to monitor use!) as well as other, overstuffed, stationary foraging boards gushing with novel kibble and some treats, just hoping. I even left a plate of wet food for him each night, just to see if he might take me up on it. He didn’t. I would take photos of the foraging boards the night before and then compare in the am to see if he engaged with them. It is imperative to remember that you absolutely cannot force a cat into eating how and what we want them to eat, that is a great way to make your cat very sick. In as quickly as three days without eating, fat can mobilize to the liver causing hepatic lipidosis, (a.k.a. fatty liver disease), this results in your cat’s skin turning yellow and is very serious. We had to take our time and ensure he ate each day.

Learning to ride a skateboard WITH Willow.!

You start on a rug so it does not roll and they build trust!

His interpretation of balance beam use.

But he got it! Boy, did he get it. In fact, Samson became what I would call a “master forager”, chirping and brrrping and purring all the way! It was so incredibly precious to see him light up, engage and be a cat! Samson became the super star of my Fundamentally Feline YouTube channel; he is still featured in my talks and pics of him doing all kinds of amazing and adorable behaviors are plastered across my social pages. This cat did find ONE wet food he would accept as a treat, Hill’s a/d! He learned to ride a skateboard at the age of ten with a/d as his reward! Once we found this as a tool, we could teach him anything! His repertoire of tricks included go to mat, go to stool, sit, shake, hi-five, give ten, spin in a circle, run through a tunnel, thrash on his skateboard, sit up and we even used clicker training to acclimate him to his asthma inhaler later in life when that developed. No surprise, there is a how-to video for that, starring Jams!

Testing out one of his new daddy's scoops!

This was NOT an unusual scene to come home to. So naughty!

Sammy Jams decided that living on the countertop and the adjacent kitchen table was to be his home base. This was awesome as Jake missed having a Sous Chef after Kodiak Bears passed away and we adored having him front and center. It also meant a bigger hole was left when he was gone. Jams filled the Sous Chef shoes nicely, complete with a set of naughty attention seeking behaviors…he truly enjoyed knocking everything off the counter. This did not start immediately. He let us get good and comfortable. And at first it was little things, soft things, unimportant things. Gradually, overtime he upped his game. He was free to do whatever he wanted, could’ve gotten in our laps while we watched TV, instead, he enjoyed sitting on the counter, glancing over at us innocently, giving us one of his classic Samson, “brrrps” and just ever so slightly pushing the treat jars off, then my water bottle, then he really kicked it up a notch and moved on to full sized canisters of sugar and flour! Keep in mind, he didn’t want the cat treats, wouldn’t eat them if they were free, this was truly attention seeking behavior and we did try to secure items to the countertop so we could more effectively ignore him, but he literally started trying to move the entire coffee maker! One night we came home from being out to dinner and the floor was just littered with stuff, he was busy in our absence! Naughty, naughty Jams!! Not gonna lie, we freakin’ loved it.

Tonka and Jams.

The last straw was Kodiak’s urn, yep, guess Samson decided, “I have replaced you as Sous Chef, you must go”. Yeah, that’s right one of our cat’s urns is on the kitchen counter, what? That was his favorite spot, best place for it! And by last straw, well, I don’t know what I mean, except that we glued what we could back together, got a new urn for Kodiak Bears and literally fixed all canisters to the counter with museum gel! He did try knocking the ENTIRE DISHRACK off the counter a few times but quickly gave up on that.

Soren, the welcoming committee, and Jams.

Strollin' Jams!

Samson's kitchen table set up. Whatever he needed!

I can’t say enough good things about this cat. He got to really be a cat while he was with us. He learned to ride in the stroller and that was pretty bee’s knees, he even came out on his leash and harness and enjoyed a good roll in the bazillion pieces of yard debris leaving his fur in shambles. The only toy his dad told me he liked were sparkly puff balls! We would toss them to him, and he would bat them back to us using both of his precious giant fuzzy mitts! This was a great game and one I wish I had more of on video. He loved the cat tunnel and cardboard boxes were well, his jam. This cat could not get enough, if only he were here to have helped with the CNN piece on cats and cardboard boxes. He would’ve been perfect. Our kitchen table was set up exclusively for Samson, complete with FOUR cardboard boxes on each corner and a Catit Self Grooming station in the center, because he could never get enough cheek scratching sometimes, we had to let him take care of that on his own. I didn’t even give him bedding when I brough him up to the clinic for blood work, he preferred the hard cage floor and a cardboard canned food tray, by far! Damn bedding was just in the way.

At the clinic, we brought his box for exams!

Sparkly puff fun.

Foraging is exhausting!

So many photos of him in this position!

This is how he was most comfortable and he did permit belly rubs!

His dad came to visit him at the clinic twice when he came in for rechecks and one Sunday, he even came all the way down to our house to see Samson in his new habitat! It was sweet that he made the effort to do that and see that he was safe and thriving with us. Samson did not have a dramatic display to these visits. It was a little sad, but it also helped me feel good in that I think Samson was pretty happy here and had truly settled in. His first human dad passed away a few years after he gave Jams to us. I think Samson was about 11 or 12 years old. I used to send him photos and videos of all of Samson’s adventures and he really seemed to enjoy them. Then I stopped getting replies…one day I called, and a friend answered, Samson’s previous human dad had made the right decision in giving him to us when he did. That was the last time I spoke to him, he was in hospice, and passed shortly thereafter. I can only hope that someone will do for me what I did for Samson when it is my turn to leave this world. I hope to time it just right and not leave anyone behind, but that is near impossible to predict.

He was beyond squaeezable!

One of the first ways that you know that something is amiss with your cat is a change in behavior. All of a sudden, Samson started coming upstairs, A LOT, and even started sleeping with us. He never did this the first few years. We loved it, but it gave us pause. We would even say to him, “Jams, you dying? You got a tumor? Why do you love us more all of a sudden”? He would “brrrp” and purr and make his ginormous biscuits on us as his answer. He still engaged in all of his normal behaviors he was just now sleeping in bed with us. Hard to complain, but I now believe this was the start of a problem we never actually diagnosed.

Our cats are weighed every month, I’ve been told I can tell they have lost weight when they have only farted! Samson’s weight was stable. He had developed asthma over the years, and we had that under control, but he had other weird, not descript things happen. Even the asthma diagnosis seemed like we were reaching to fix a cough that was not 100% asthma. He would have really thick mucousy, yellow discharge from one nostril, only the one. I would get it cleared up, but it would recur. In the early stages of weirdness labs were beautiful, X-rays and ultrasound normal. It was hard to be alarmed.

Mommy and Me day! Off to the office.

Part of the Royal Canin photo shoot for the article I authored in their magazine!

He just continued to get weirder. His kidney values started creeping up, ok, no big deal, we can treat that! Then he started having accidents on the bed but we could not pinpoint why, waterproof blankets on the bed it is, we’ve been here before (Vader), nothing we can’t handle! Then he started getting weak, hard time even standing up, this became a little dangerous as he lived on the kitchen counter and table and we didn’t want him to fall, but it was also a good sign that he was still in his routine and wanted to be in these places. Then, what seemed to be neuro issues started. He would try to squeeze himself into weird spaces, he was incredibly lethargic, body temperature having a hard time regulating. We were hospitalizing him at home in the giant breed dog crate, he was on an IV catheter here at the house and I would wake every few hours to check on him and turn him over. I did this for many nights. I would express his bladder to lessen the mess but ultimately, I had to bathe him daily and blow him dry to keep him clean and warm.

We had an appointment at the neurologist, but the morning that I awoke to bring him, his temp was low and he was not stable enough to undergo any diagnostics there. We were frantically trying to treat what was possible acute kidney failure that came on like a bolt of lightning and or some sort of brain tumor that was setting a cascade of other weirdness’s throughout the rest of his little body. We had to call it, he could stand or eat on his own, the dignity was gone. It wasn’t fair. Nor was it fair that we only got to love him from age 9-1/2 to 14 years. We missed out on so much and he was ripped away from us far too soon. He had so much left to do here!

We let Samson go that night, we said goodbye in his favorite spot on the kitchen counter.

We miss you so much, Samson! What did Samson teach us? Do NOT underestimate your cats! Cats CAN be trained, senior cats CAN learn to forage, walk on harnesses, and take stroller rides, sometimes single cats CAN mesh into a multi-pet household and thrive (though he was an exception and not the rule) and you can absolutely train an old cat to learn new tricks.

There are now TWO cat urns on our kitchen counter. As it should be.

He was King.

We loved you so much, Samson!

This is the pic I sent to Jake the day I brought him home. There was no asking, but I at least introduced them first!

Fluffy

Fluffy, Fluffernutter, Flufferschteen, Schteen, Butters, you name it, we called him pretty much anything but Fluffy. Still cannot believe we had a cat named Fluffy. But here goes…

I knew Fluffy for a looooong time. I was his hair stylist for many years! He came to see me at my previous clinic as well as the one where I work now. He and his litter mate were both patients. Fluffy was grossly obese. If I remember correctly, he was 29.25# the day he was relinquished to us (to me-basically). He would get lion cuts a few times a year and in-between the clients were encouraged to bring him in for sanitary shaves because this cat had not seen his own rear in years! This rarely happened. He was always so caked with feces and dried urine over his prepuce and anus. It was so sad, and he was so itchy not being able to satiate the itch and effectively groom himself.

The day he was relinquished.

Fluffy and his brother Reginald were super sweet cats. Both were huge but Fluffy was spectacular! It always bothered me that Reginald got a “real” name. They never really wanted to keep Fluffy, and I guess that showed in the lack of originality. Both cats were indoor/outdoor, and I recall that Reginald ate some lilies outside the home one day. Odd because they had been planted and blooming there his entire life, but this one spring he decided to munch on them needless to say we treated him for acute kidney failure and he lived!!! He is the ONLY cat that I have known that has had Lillie poisoning that lived, the only one! It was remarkable.

Relinquishment day before photos.

One of his first few days home, really wish this pic was lighter!

Still caged at the clinic here. Wondering why he has to forage for his food.

I never thought the day would come, but one day I got the dreaded call. Fluffy was urinating outside of the litter box and they were going to have none of that. He also scratched on the furniture. I tried. I tried to help and educate, but the things Fluffy needed to be successful were not going to be provided. Let me tell you this cat did not have a “behavior problem” this cat had a “humans problem”!!! He was completely set up to fail. Grossly obese, feces matted to his rear on the regular and would anyone like to guess how big this cats litter box was???? It was 8 ½ x 11!!!! It was one of those tiny pans we use in a cage at the clinic for the day if a cat is dropped off. He wasn’t “eliminating outside the box” it was all a case of simple logistics and he was simply over shooting the pan. He was IN THE BOX, it is just that his pee and poop were going over the side because he was well, GIANT!

I love this photo of him.

Anyone want to take a guess as to where this cat’s scratching post was located and what it looked like? It was in the basement right next to the litter box, and it was about 18 inches tall. The end! Bring him to me, there is nothing wrong with this delicious, scrumptious muffin except that he lives in YOUR house and you refuse to meet his environmental needs!

Big boys club! Hitch, Fluffy and Bears.

Fluffernutter was perfect in every freakin’ way! This cat had nothing wrong with his urine, he used the boxes provided perfectly right up until the day he died and he was so sweet. I am a BIG fan of spaying and neutering but OMG if he and Peaches could have had kittens. One can dream.

Look at how well he fit in!

First on the agenda, weight loss! I will say that he is the first cat (at the time) that bit holes in his foraging toy instead of manipulating them as intended to acquire the food. He was a brute and we thought it was hilarious but he did eventually get the concept and stopped chewing them up like a puppy. When G.G. and Crusty came home that one Thanksgiving week, so did Schteen, and well, he stayed too. They were all just so easy and happy and grateful. How could we not? Plus, I had loved him for so long. I was glad he was mine, finally.

He was not small.

The largest cat we have ever had.

Butters made it to 19# without even doing anything drastic. We opened four 5.5oz cans of wet food twice a day at that juncture in our feline husbandry, and much of that was Hill’s w/d, a weight loss food. Then, all his dry was in food puzzles and not bowls, voila, he lost weight, the healthy way and without frustration and he also became an indoor only cat which for most that would have resulted in weight gain, but not when they are working for their dry food, enriched and playing etc. Makes a difference when one does not rely on any one thing to achieve that weight loss.

Look at that sweet face, he can pee on my floor anytime!

I absolutley love this photo!

We made a half-hearted attempt to make him a full-figured spokes cat for Revolution, the plus size, back the day, he did not become rich and famous, but it was fun. He got to try out our cat stroller and he loved it. So often I am told, “oh, he doesn’t play” and I just love it when I get them home and comfortable, and they actually start to enjoy playtime. That was true for all three of these clinic cats, despite being older, got them all playing. We also continued to maintain his linocut regularly, it helped him “feel” thinner! Ha!

Zoetis really missed the boat with this spokesmodel!

Hanging with his PWC peeps in the sun.

Strollin'!

Cozy time Schteen!

Stunning little guy.

Fierce killer.

Fluffernutter did succumb to cancer and was taken from us far too soon. We tried very hard to save his life, but he had something really weird that we were never able to precisely diagnose, and it made him terribly anemic and weak. Sad to see for such a big, tough guy, but he was always a sweet little teddy bear on the inside.

We never really called him Fluffy; we don’t think he cared.

Playing!!

At least he was happy here for a while, loved and accepted.

Mr. Seymour Crusty

One of his cleanest and most handsome pics

Don’t laugh, but Crusty was found with a Fritos bag on his head! We affectionately referred to this as him being an “original forager”, bringing a real life meaning to what we know to be all about toys and enrichment at our house. He was foraging for his life. I’m sure licking the contents out of the bag was delicious!

G.G. and Crusty, "Early bird special at Denny's"

A local rescue woman brought him to see us at the office because he was a such a mess she didn’t want to take him to one of her many “regular vets”, Crust needed cat people! Let’s see if I can recall his myriad of issues, a mouth full of horrible teeth which resulted in full mouth extractions, he was FIV+, he had Pododermatitis on all four feet, a condition seen with FIV+ cats and interestingly more common in male cats as well. He had the Feline Herpes Virus, no surprise when you look at his pics and runny eyes and nose. His body was covered in scars. You can see in all of his photos, even at his most handsome and with hair styling by Moi, he looks a bit motheaten and splotchy. Feet chronically stained from his eye discharge, and well, he was old, old as crust! This is how he got the name, old and crusty, but then we didn’t want his name to be too derogatory, so we added the “Mr.” and “Seymour” and see, now his name was fancy and fun!

Supervising Yukon's Laser treatments.

This pic taken while still living the life of a clinic cat.

Snuggled up to Yukon's bloomers!

Remarkable interest in dogs after life on the street.

This cat was something else. Super timid with people at first, he was a “cats’ cat” and that became ever so much more evident as he healed and we introduced him to G.G. They made the cutest little senior citizen couple! He was not exactly adoptable. I mean, to the right individual, but he needed to be with other cats and with a whole host of medical issue we were not exactly advertising to place him. He became a staple at the clinic, and he was even ok with dogs. I brought Yukon, our German Shepard up for cold laser therapy pretty regularly for a while, and you can see that Crust happily nestled into the tail fur and supervised my treatments!

After dinner activities at the senior center with GG and Crust!

Peek-a-boo Crusty!

He, along with G.G. and Fluffy (I know!), were the three clinic cats I brought home that one Thanksgiving week and never brought them back. To see them blossom in a home, enjoy the fireplace, sofa, screened porch and to sleep in our bed, how could I possible return them to clinic life at their age? Now clinic cats were not exactly destitute at our practice, they lived the lap of luxury compared to most, but it was still a “harder” environment. No rugs, no soft furnishings, no bed or human to sleep with and they deserved that.

He was a "classic" kinda guy!

Strollin' Crust!

Crusty fully took advantage of all of the amenities! He really settled in, let his guard down and played a lot for a senior cat with medical problems. He even got to go for stroller walks! A far cry from fighting for his life on the street. He practically lived out on the screen porch and being a cat’s cat, he had SO MANY friends here. I have always found males to be a bit more easy going and accepting of others and this could not have been more true in our home. We had an overwhelming number of boys and he could often be found in the cuddle puddle. In preparing for this post, I was reminded of many videos of he and Hitch wrestling together, grooming each other, lots of mutual grooming. He was in heaven!

Makes one wonder what he thought of all of this?

Cuddle puddle

Still choosing to hang out with his clinic cat friends.

Cuddle train.

Cuddle puddle.

Boys club!

He and Vader became buds too.

Screen porch time!

While he was living with us, he also developed diabetes (Yay! He became my THIRD diabetic cat AT THE SAME TIME!) likely subsequent to the steroids used to treat his pododermatitis. He also developed heart disease and chronic kidney disease. So his laundry list of medications and treatments grew.

We love how much he played here!

Killing blue mouse toy!

I have no idea how old Crust was, we guessed maybe 15 years or so. Who knows how old he was when he passed. He’s one of those cats with lots of secrets we will never know. I got the call while I was at work, Jake came home from work and found Mr. Seymour Crusty had passed away. He looked to have fallen asleep quite peacefully in a soft, fuzzy, plush bed. His little heart just gave out. We understood this might happen but we always hope to be with them to help them leave us and be there to say our goodbyes. It doesn’t happen often, but at the time he was the second cat we found deceased and did not plan for. This is never a good feeling. Looking back on all of the photos and videos though helps us know we did right by him. He had a nice retirement here with us. We have no regrets. We like to think he enjoyed our snacks more than Frito crumbs!

He loved the sun, as most senior cats do.

Classic photo of him, just a wee bit of snot coming from his nose!

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.