Muses

Albert

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

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

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

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

At the clinic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quite the stunning coat for a cat with chronic ringworm!

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

He was right at home on our living room rug!

He was quite the specimen wasn't he?

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

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

Just so handsome!

I love this one, so many great captions!

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

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

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

Ok, they were huge, but adorbs.

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

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

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

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

RIP Albert.

Yukon

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

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

First week home all scrawny and moth eaten fur.

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

Look at how gross his ears were!

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

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

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

At the grandparents for the holidays.

A sleepy pack.

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

Fireman Nilius to the resuce!

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

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

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

So well behaved on our walks.

Performing minor surgery at home in the living room!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Via agility training they learned to jump and climb.

Majestic!

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

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

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

The Three Musketeers.

Our annual Fall hike to Red Top Mountain

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

Robust an at his healthiest.

On top of the world!

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

The whole team. Maple, Grant and Yukon.

So cute. Watching mommy for commands.

Iittala (Tallas)

On sofa, first few days home.

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

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

I just love this pic, stunning.

Classic pose for her, loved to dangle her legs.

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

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

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

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

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

Doggy headbutts. This was her with Grant.

Little supermodel here.

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

Paper bag fun!

Would you look at that tail! Talla Tails!

Even fancy ladies like boxes and bags!

Hanging with her friends on the screen porch.

Loving the porch!

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

All the toys!!!

She loved to be up high and survey her kingdom.

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

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

Sunflower

Looking fancy and cute on her red blanket.

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

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

In her previous humans home with her housemate, Daisy.

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

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

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

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

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

An example of the cleanliness, would you use it?

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

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

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

She loved our screened porch.

Cuddling together. She was a very sweet cat.

In the "recovery bathroom".

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

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

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

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

Post op pic.

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

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.

Muses

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

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