Date: Thu, 10 Feb 2005
From: gaia@aol.com
To: Zeke Krahlin
Subject: Our Beloved Baby Cat is Dead; and We Need Support (cross posted)
Our Beloved Baby Cat is Dead; and We Need Support (cross posted)
On Monday night just before midnight met me at the BART system as I was returning from work. We have an emergency: Simba is really sick. We rushed him to the emergency after hours vet and they immediately put him on oxygen while they took X-rays and did blood work. At first we suspected some accidental poisoning and they one of the feline viruses, but the conclusion, after the tests came back as even more horrific. Due to some genetic misfiring our beautiful strong solid little guy had suddenly destroyed almost all of his red blood cells. His little pink nose and inside ear parts were white and his little chest was heaving.
When they typed his blood prior to a transfusion they revealed that even this might be very risky and make him sicker, but that if he were to continue to live, he needed this, and quickly. The vet said that he might be maintained through very frequent vet visits for tests, twice daily medications, and becoming an indoor, and castrated cat......
All this for a little guy who delighted in being free, who was incredibly clever and sneaky at getting out when he wanted out and accustomed to vanishing for 12 hours at a time about his catly business when he so chose. A cat to whom this freedom to prowl was his major joy. And given it, he was one of the most joyous beings I have ever known. The night before he'd seemed his normal self. Sitting on my lap and trying to eat all the shrimps out of my shrimp --fried rice. ( I didn't give him enough, I'm sorry to say). Maybe he was a little less reluctant to come out of the drizzle and get warm, but himself.
The vet told us that even with the transfusions and daily medications his prognosis was very guarded at best, he could easily go into crisis like now again. She recommended that we euthanize him and, finally we did. We returned to the hospital to say goodbye and so that he would at least die in our arms.
He was such a gallant kitty, after four hours on oxygen he felt a little stronger and walked off the metal examination table to perch on the nearby scale, he was still curious, still had some life in him, still wanted to live. We took the choice from him, explaining as best we could, told him we'd always love him and miss him and called in the vet to let him go. When I got home, I kept wanting to call him, kept sensing him outside wanting me to let him in. Finally I realized I had to tell his spirit that although he was always welcome, it was ok to move on and rest with Bast and Sekhmet. The pressure was less after that---but oh, we miss him.
Gaia Wildewoode
My turn, I guess. For anyone who has never loved an animal companion, whether cat, dog, parrot, horse or hamster or ?? we hold there is an empty place in that one's heart. Gaia wrote the title in the subject line; that's how much this has hit us and how deeply she feels the wound from our loss of a friend, a companion we loved as much as a human son.
No human love is as pure and honest as that of an animal who has chosen to live with us, and whom can we love with such abandon and so much?
We have had four cats in the 27+ years we've been together, and each was unique and wonderful. They were Graymalkin, Willow, Pyewackit and Simba.
Even Willow, whose time with us was brief; a feral kitty taught to sneak in the windows of cat owners by her endlessly preggie Momcat, who adopted us and came to stay, not too bright but sweet and looking for all the world like a "pussie willow," she endeared her to ourselves and, like Simba, died very suddenly and unexpectedly, and far too young. She was a companion and competitor with and for our Graymalkin, our poetic and gentle little trooper. He had an allergy from fleas, so he always itched and had sores all over. Some idiot shot him in the eye with a pellet or bb-gun, so we had a hellish time trying to at least keep the eye, though it was blinded. He was in varying degrees of pain all the fourteen years he gifted us with his presence, and we shed enough tears when he left us to fill a well.
Pyewackit was known to many, for we couldn't keep from talking about our little girl. She was love and comfort, a warm companion when we felt down, and a delight at all times. She was delicate and pretty, a lady among cats, a queen among queens.
Simba was our little lion. He came to us quite magically soon after we bid Pyewackit farewell, and he was every inch a boy. He was fearless and smart, an imp with an imperious "Lion King" quality. We don't know if he was ever a hunter, because, unlike all the others, he never gave us the offering of a mouse's head or some part of a bird. But he loved being outside. Once he had streaked by us to jet out the door, there was no keeping him in. He must have mated, at least once, because he would come home to us with that "Irish" look of having done his Tommy task.
When we came home from work or shopping, he would be running up the sidewalk to greet us. When we left to get on the train, he would follow us for blocks, sometimes making us even later than usual, and we are usually late everywhere. He had to be led back home, as he wouldn't be carried. In fact, he didn't like being carried or even held, as if that was too much intimate bonding for some reason, or he was fearful of imprisonment, of being trapped.
He was in control, and that never changed. He would sleep at our feet, but never cuddle at our breast, and if we picked him up, he would struggle to get free. Near the end though, he would sit on our laps while at this computer, purring and yet with mobile tail indicating inner conflict over this.
Like teenagers everywhere, his freedom was more than anything else to him. Feed him, water him, pet him, love him and then watch him go out to conquer worlds. We would put a belled collar on him, over and over, since he somehow managed to get all of them off, even when theoretically tight enough to stay on.
Even when so sick, he tried to stand up in the oxygen box so as to greet us. So full of life, (I can barely write) he was so beautiful. I will never know if letting him go was the right thing, though we imagine he would have been suffering in many ways if he were somehow maintained alive, since the only chance for that would have been strong immuno-suppressants, often in each day, that would leave him vulnerable for everything. And even the chance of that seemed iffy at best and following a full transfusion. (But I feel I am like him, since I live with injections and other constraints.) Yet I know why I do these things, and he could never understand.
The vet refused to say "Do it," or "Don't do it." We only had her word on how sick he was, and we feel horrible over letting him go, and we only hope it was the right thing to do, and we shall never know. Meanwhile we are in mourning.
Robin Goodfellow
Blesséd Be!
Gaia Wildewoode and
Robin Goodfellow
Quoting gaiarobin@aol.com:
Our Beloved Baby Cat is Dead; and We Need Support
(cross posted)
Plenty of support from this quarter, Gaia & Robin! The Romans had it right when they called Gaia's creatures "animals"...for it comes from the Latin "anima" which means "soul". How astute to call these creatures "little souls", for that is what they truly are.
You opened your home and your hearts to such creatures, in the feline family. You gave these delightful orphans a home filled with love, humor, and warmth. It is always a painful time when one of your best friends passes on. Having to perform a mercy killing is a travesty to all that preceded.
Yet you did the right thing. A painful, painful choice...but the only other option would have been incredibly prolonged suffering with little joy for your kitty. While he is free to move on, I have a strong hunch your brave tiger will visit often, in spirit. And you'll know it, by sounds of his feet padding, the knocking around of boxes, and other little activities particular to him, and him alone.
Love never dies; only the costumes change. Another furry darling will soon appear at your door. Meanwhile, I'll light a candle tonight, just for your loss and this most difficult passage. My prayers/spells are always powerful, so don't be surprised if something magickal happens to either or both or you, tonight during my meditation on your behelf. I will perform my ritual and spell casting from 9pm to 9:10pm. And then throughout the remainder of the night, I'll send an army of good thoughts your way.
Your friend across The Bay:
Zeke
P.S.: I'm proud to say I was BORN in the Year of the Tiger, and that my last name by birth is: CATalano.
--
Lavender-Velvet Revolution
gay-bible.org
Date: Sun, 13 Feb 2005 07:09:45 EST
From: Gaiarobin@aol.com
To: Zeke Krahlin
Subject: Light From Darkness
As you all know, because we could not contain our tears, our beloved Simba
was taken from us, all so suddenly. We know we needed to fill the void he left
in our hearts.
The most amazing thing happened today. I saw a strange black kitten sit on
the outer ledge of our opposite apartment neighbors. We had never seen her
before, yet she didn't mind being picked up and carried into our apartment.
Intuitively, I dubbed her "Nuit," as she's like the sky Goddess of ancient KMT
(Egypt). I thought later I might have called her Kali or Durga or any number of
dark goddesses, but Nuit came to my mind.
I went out to buy Kitten Chow® leaving a note on the door to warn Gaia
there's a kitten inside. When I got home, she had been spending some time
with said kitten on her lap, purrrrrring. This is a baby, too small for a
collar or to get shots or neutering, and cute, and curious, and friendly to us
weird Berkeley people!
Now, of course, we are going to be prepared to surrender her if anyone
leaves a note or other word of "ownership," (Cats own people; they just humor
us to a very limited degree by letting us think we own them.)
But, she seems a gift of the gods, and I keep getting Egyptian images
popping up in my mind as before when it was Bastet and Sekhmet who brought us
Simba. Strangely enough, as I returned from the store it was Anubis who
appeared in my visions. Now Anubis is not a god of cats, per se, so it puzzled me.
All I can think of is how the guardian of the underworld might be the one to
send out its Ka's, so a soul then represents the gods in this profound way.
Did Simba give the God this request to ease our loneliness?
Now we just wait until we are certain no one is looking for his or her
lost kitten. Then I think we can receive this gift with joy and gratitude.
Blesséd Be
Namasté
Robin Goodfellow
"May the long-time sun shine upon you,
All Love surround you,
And the Pure Light within you
Guide your Way on..." (Sufi blessing)
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