As the “mother” in our maiden, mother, matriarch trio, I will occasionally be writing about being a mom. Yes, this is a story about a five year old. Be forewarned it is also a story about cats. That’s right, I’m that lady…the one sitting next to you on a crowded plane talking, talking, and talking about kids and cats!! This story actually begins way back when my son was born, our cat Yeats (a.k.a. Buddha), fell madly in love with him. She had always been a loving cat, but more of a watcher than a participator where children were concerned. She was 17 when my son was born and the two were inseparable. His fourth word was “Buddha”, right after “moon”, “Momma” and “Poppa”. If that weren’t remarkable enough, she would actually come running to him whenever he said her name. A cat, an old cat, who learned to come when she was called. They had three and half lovely years together before we lost Yeats to old age and several months later her lifelong companion Keats also passed on. We had had them both since they were kittens. They spent nearly all of twenty one years together and their loss left a big hole in our family. We have two other cats, Tennyson and Poe (you’re seeing a pattern?) and a dog named Xana. We also have a yard full of chickens. None of them have the same relationship with my son that he had had with Yeats. However, my husband and I were not all too eager to get new pets. We had no intentions of “replacing” our beloved cats.
So nearly two years passed, all the while with my son asking nicely for a new kitten…a cuddly kitten…one that would be his. It was really a fair request. Our other pets were older, set in their ways and not prone to playfulness. Occasionally Poe would chase a laser light for Thackery and often Tennyson would snuggle with him during a movie or a nap, but neither were kittens anymore. Every time he sought one of them out and carried them to a nice spot to cuddle, my heart would break a little bit watching him get one or two pets in before the cat lost interest and left him alone; he would look at me and say, “I miss Buddha.” You can only say, “Me too, baby”, so many times. Then my beautiful indigo child found the phrases that persuaded me over to his way of thinking.
“Momma, do you know that at the pound some kitties die before they ever have a home?”
“Yeah, I did know that. That’s sad, huh?”
“Do you think that in the spirit world Keats and Yeats are sad about those kitties that could be living here with me to love them?”
Yeah, whatever, judge me all that you want, but you would have been off to the pound just as quickly as I was. And even though you are sitting there all judgey right now, I will give you some very helpful advice…NEVER (in case there is some confusion here…NOT EVER, AT NO TIME, UNDER NO CONDITIONS, NOT ON YOUR LIFE!!!) take a child to the pound with you. You may all on your own, not even be able to withstand the abject desolation. You may all on your own, leave with more companions than you intended, but if you take a child…multiple adoptions are guaranteed. You were warned.
I had no one to give such sage advice. In fact my husband and I reasoned that, of course, Thackery should come. After all, we were getting him a kitten, it should be one with which he had a connection. That’s rational. Ration and reason are useless tools when facing a room full of desolate kitties in tiny cages all desperately in need of a home. We began by asking to see the actual kittens, ones that were obviously only a couple of months old. He selected kitten after kitten to “meet and greet”, only to be told that they were already adopted. So, we learned to decode the all important paperwork at the front of the tiny cages. (Or, so we thought.) We started to look at cats whose paper work said 6 months old, 1 year, 18 months, 2 years…reasoning that they would still have many kitten like qualities and let’s face it, once you go through those doors - no vaguely sentient human being is leaving without saving someone. When Thackery says, “These two look like Keats.” Yes…he said TWO, two 1 year old tortie calicoes sharing one of those tiny cages. One up at the front of the cage reaching her little paw out and one curled up at the back of the cage trying very hard to be ignored.
I speak fluent cat-ese, so I will translate the next portion for you. Imagine a polite British accent and sunny voice for the soon to be named Wordsworth and a British, less sunny, rather stiff and grumpy voice for the soon to be named Coleridge. Wordsworth with her paw through the cage gives a little sorry-to-interrupt-you cough and says, “Oh, excuse me, very kind and busy people. You seem to be quite civilised individuals and I was wondering if I could perhaps persuade you to lend some assistance. You see, my cell mate and I are here utterly by some horrible, egregious error and we were truly hoping that you might be capable of remedying our unpleasant situation. Perhaps, speak to someone on our behalf and get us released from this obviously inappropriate environment. What say you kindly gentle folk?” Meanwhile, at the back of the cell, Coleridge glances our direction with a slight humpf of derision and says to her companion, “Give it up old Sot!! They are fekking PEOPLE!! You have been at this for a fekking month, when will you learn old girl? People don’t give a rat’s brown arse about us and they obviously never will!! Uncultured, boorish, crass philistines wouldn’t recognise true aristocracy if we were free from this hellish prison and could bite them on their arse!!” Nearly at once, a volunteer ushered our two new family members into the meet and greet room where, if it is possible for something to occur faster than instantaneously, Thackery fell madly in love.
Once out of the tiny prison, Coleridge warmed up slightly. “Perhaps you aren’t quite so horrible as other humans, let me just make a little comfy spot here on your lap (knead, knead, knead). Cough, cough,…don’t presume that my purring has anything to do with some sort of affinity for you, just an uncontrolled biological response. Yes, you may pet me if it is absolutely necessary.” Wordsworth became positively giddy. “Oh, isn’t this lovely? Are we going home with you then? That would be divine. Yes, I looove tummy rubs, Let’s play over here…and over here…and oooh look at this. Pet me more, pet me more!!”
“We’ll take them.” We said to the volunteer who was pleased and went to get their paperwork. Their non-existent paperwork. “Did you bring their papers in with you?” he asked. We had not. He went searching and came back quite dejected. “You can’t adopt these two,” he said. Oh no, we thought, had someone already adopted them, as well? It was explained to us that no, no one had adopted them or could adopt them; that little cough that they had developed was probably upper respiratory infections (URI) for which they don’t offer treatment at the pound. The two had been scheduled to be euthanized, in fact, immediately. That is where their paperwork was and if we would be so kind as to hand him the kitties, that’s where they were headed.
These two kitties that we are holding and petting and loving? Hand them to you to be killed? Right now? Take from the hands of my angelic child the kittie he is holding on his lap and dangling a little bell for and giggling with? Just rip the kittie away from his adoring gaze and give her to you to be murdered?
Coleridge said, “Silly, silly volunteer. I have only had the pleasure of this family’s company for a few short minutes. I, who generally abhors humans, know that since our plight has become known to these kind people, it is not bloody likely that we will be going anywhere with you ever again!!” Wordsworth said, ““Euthanized” sounds quite unpleasant indeed. Thank you, but no thank you!! We will quite happily be going home with this lovely family, hopefully by tea time, they look as though they make a lovely tea and crumpets!!”
The following TWO HOURS was spent filling out paperwork (one stack for each cat – each stack thicker than my mortgage paperwork) to file for a “Special Needs” adoption. The special need being a long overdue visit to the Veterinarian. We scheduled an appointment for them both at Acacia Animal Hospital on Campbell while we filled out and signed document after document. “In the event that this animal is too ill to treat and must be euthanized, I will not bill the county for the cost.” Sign one, sign two. “In the event that this animal’s treatment costs exceeds my ability to pay, I will not bill the county” Sign one, sign two. “In the event that the necessary euthanization of this animal causes trauma to me or my family, I will not bill the county.” Sign one, sign two. “When this animal is deemed healthy, I will incur the cost of have them spayed or neutered.” Sign one, sign two. You get the idea. After my hand was numb from signing, I gave them $15.00 (they were a Monday, two for one special!!) and took my kitties to a kind a loving vet.
The vet determined that they were only 8 months old, ran tests for any serious and potentially contagious diseases, started them on antibiotics for their URI, loaded them up with fluids and healthy vitamins and sent us home with organic shampoo and conditioner to get them clean. It took several visits to the vet to get them healthy and I will admit it was not cheap, (although many vets, Acacia included, will give you discounts for rescuing shelter animals), but we are over the moon happy to have our two new family members, home, healthy, happy and thriving. They were thrilled to be able to come home with us at all, even when they were convalescing, not too mobile, coughing and sneezing and having to be bundled up in warm places all day. “Cough, cough…yes, yes right kind of you…sneeze, sneeze,…quite civil and all…yes, another blankie would be most appreciated, good chap...organic oatmeal and aloe shampoo and conditioner? Well, maybe just one little warm bath...cough, cough.. much obliged.”
Now that they are well…all is right with the world. They are excessively loving and cuddly, “Oh, I say…you’d like to carry me about like a babe in arms? Well, isn’t that lovely? Quite kind, I’ll just use this opportunity to clean my paws, thanks so much.” “Hmmm, sleeping were we? Mind if I just join you…how about right here under the covers with you? Were you using these pajamas just for yourself? Plenty of room for us both, you’re quite obliging, much gratitude.” In addition to that they are obviously still kittens. We invested in several new kitten toys to keep them engaged and give the older cats a little break from their near constant capacity to play. Thackery is radiant in their love.
No comments:
Post a Comment