WeeBit 1999 - 2011

WeeBit 1999 - 2011

We must now say fare well to yet another of our cats. This one hurt - not that they don't ALL hurt when you lose one, but every now and then, it somehow seems to hurt worse than usual. This one did.
12 years ago, I adopted a little kitten that I named WeeBit. She was a tiny bit of fluff, a black midnight calico or properly a Tortoiseshell , with a gorgeous white ruff and glorious orange accents all over her. She was a ball of lightening fast energy, with 2 speeds - full bore all out, and passed out sound asleep and God did not remotely install a reverse gear in this cat. She could literally jump from one side of a room to the other in one leap, no touch down (and did, constantly). I used to put a little kitten play toy ball in a card board box and toss her in to play, hoping she'd wear out before I had to go to bed, because EVERYONE must play when the WeeBit was awake. She was sweet and feisty in a rolling boil of a mix and she loved life. (Somewhere, I have pictures of her as a kitten, which I will post when I find them.)

WeeBit, with her fluffy tail, BeeWit.

She grew into a lovely small cat, with medium long fur, still a rambunctious bundle of energy. And she evolved the craziest relationship with her tail that I have ever seen in a cat. Basically, she didn't know WHAT that fluffy thing at the end of her butt was, and it was obviously out to get her. Her tail would twitch and flip randomly and WeeBit would jump, and stare at it and then do her very best to catch the obviously demon possessed thing following her around. I remember watching her chase her tail at high speed for hours up and around and through and over the back of a metal folding chair in a never ending circle, determined to GET that...that...thing. She never did figure out that it was HER tail, and an actual part of her...the last week of her life she was still trying to catch the darn tail. This resulted in the tail acquiring its own name...the BeeWit. If we posit that BeeWit really was a separate entity, I don't think it was any more resigned being attached to WeeBit as her tail than she was, and it appeared to torment her deliberately.

WeeBit mothered a number of kitten litters before we managed to get her spayed. Three of her offspring are worth mentioning here - one was a TINY kitten that got named Snuggles because that was all the kitten wanted to do - snuggle. Now...99.9 % of the time, calico's are female - the coloring is linked to sex. (Everyone once in a long while a male calico will be born, but is sterile, and then in an even smaller number than that, a fertile male calico will be born, which is like winning the sweepstakes at Vegas odds.)  Snuggles unfortunately, was not a very healthy kitten though extremely cute - he was the only calico kitten she birthed that had her tortoiseshell coloring. Snuggles had a recurring problem of his - yes, HIS -  front legs popping out of socket - you'd look up and there would be Snuggles, limping and staggering, and you'd have to pick the kitten up and gently pop them back in, which never seemed to upset Snuggles, however much it distressed us. So I had Snuggles in my hand one day, gently easing the front leg back into place and did a double take. Snuggles was a male calico! I couldn't believe it! Unfortunately he had other problems as well, one of which included a soft spot on his skull that instead of closing as he grew, spread wider and wider. And I think there were probably other internal problems as well. Sadly, he did not live much past 6-8 weeks. But we've never forgotten him either.

Lugh and Persephone - WeeBit's Kittens, now grown adult cats.

WeeBit's other memorable kitten litter is quite the story. I was cleaning house one day about 6 years ago, and moved a piece of furniture to mop under it. Um. There were two baby-just-born-kittens curled up there together. Insanely healthy, happy well fed chunky kittens. We didn't even know one of our cats was pregnant, let alone who! What the...! So I called Dreamweaver at work and I said "You're not going to believe this, but we have kittens."
Her response: "WHAT!?!?!? How? Who's the mother?"
"I have no idea!" All I could do was settle in and watch, to see who showed up to nurse them, as we had several unspayed lady cats at the time. Sure enough, WeeBit strolled over after getting some food and water and plopped down to nurse. Congratulations! Gave a whole new meaning to the term "stealth pregnancy" - heck, we never realized she'd gone into heat! One was a little all black female kitten, the other was a tabby and white male. We named the little girl Persephone and the little boy Lugh - and they are to this day two of our most amazing cats. Its like Weebit split her personality - Lugh has all her tender sweetness and Persephone has all the vinegar and feistiness. These two kittens incidently provoked the memorable phrase from a friend of mine - "Little wee WeeBit bits with with little wee BeeWits" - say that five times fast.

Lugh and Persephone were the last "wee WeeBits", as we managed to get WeeBit spayed after that. She grew older, over the next six years, as we all do, still able to leap high kitchen cabinets at single bound and sleeping on our bed with us...until about 2 months ago we noticed that she was showing distension in her abdomen. We took her to the vet and that was when we got the shattering diagnosis of Feline Infectious Peritonitis which is fatal. She had the  fast moving kind and the vet told us gently to take her home and make her as comfortable as possible - as long as she had good quality of life, we were good, but we would have to decide when she would have to be put down. Her prognosis was only a matter of weeks, though the vet said doubtfully that she might live a little longer. Heartbroken, we took our little WeeBit home and proceeded to set out to spoil her rotten...er...rottener.

A few weeks went by and aside from distinctly waddling a little from the distension in her belly, she was fine. She was happy...she ate and drank, and slept on the bed with us, demanded being petted and chased the BeeWit routinely. A month went by. She was still in her mind a quite going concern, and very pleased with her world. A few more weeks went by and we began to be in awe of her resiliency and tenaciousness! We would get up every morning and call "WeeBit!" And her head would pop up from where she would be curled up on the foot of the bed and she'd go "Yes? Whats up?", bright eyed and attentive. Two more good weeks passed, where we would check in with her every morning, and go, OK, she's good, we have another good day! Two months of this - both happy and sad and bittersweet.

WeeBit on a pillow in my lap. 

And then, this past Thursday, we could see the downshift. She grew quiet, and began to struggle to get from place to place in the house, and her breathing became labored off and on. She was still eating and drinking and affectionate, but the fun was going out of living, and that was our line in the sand with this - we would not let her suffer into a decline. We had researched vets and prices, so I placed the call and got an appointment on Saturday morning to have her euthanized. We spent Thursday evening and Friday redoubling the spoiling factor - that cat got steak and turkey! She remained affectionate and interested in food, but became increasingly distressed by her inability to make it to the litter pan. She insisted on being near us, preferably in our arms, and cried so piteously when I tried to set her up a nest box on the floor so she could make it to the litter pan, that I gave up and put her back on the bed with us with some towels down for her. Dreamweaver had taken her into the bed room, as I was finishing up on the computer for the evening, when I looked up and saw her - jauntily! - trotting back from the litter pans in the next room, going "Look! See! I can too still use the litter pan!" Sadly, about half way back to the bed room her steps slowed as she ran out of breath and she had to lie down. I picked Weebit up gently and took her to Dreamweaver, where she curled up in her arms.

Dreamweaver held WeeBit for the first part of the night Friday night, and then passed her to me to hold and  cradle. If we put her down for a second, to go to the bathroom or something, she would cry until we picked her back up. Around 2:30 AM, she suddenly mewed a little, and snuggled down closer in my arms....and then simply, quietly, quit breathing. She went in her own time and her own way, curled up with us, and we never had to take her to be put to sleep. We did decide to have her cremated, so I took her body on to the vet anyway to be dropped off for this service, and they were so kind to me there.

WeeBit

So we come to the end of our twelve years with WeeBit (and BeeWit!) - a long and happy life that we were blessed to have shared with this very special cat. There will never be another like her! Blessed be, WeeBit - see you in the summer lands!

Sé do bheatha, agus slán a fhágáil

Last night, sadly, we lost another one of our kitten tribe. Séamus, the little black one, had begun to lag behind the others developmentally in terms of being active and strong. I was afraid we were seeing a case of failure to thrive...the day before he abruptly developed a fast moving upper respiratory, and despite immediately getting antibiotics, food and fluids, and vitamin B into him, he did not respond to any of it. Last night he passed away on my chest, curled up next to my heart. I am grateful for the time I was granted with him. Sé do bheatha, agus slán a fhágáil, Séamus is féidir ... muid le chéile arís.

Tully 1999 - 2011

Tully
1999-2011

Our cat Tully, who was diagnosed officially with cancer 2 weeks ago passed away today. He has probably had the cancer for a long time, undiagnosed. This was not a kind of cancer that responded well to treatment - basically we were told to take him home, love him and spoil him rotten. Which we did...he's been getting food and treats any time he wanted and his very own plate of bacon and eggs. We actually manage to put about a pound and a half back on him! 

He has been cheerful, loving and even playful. He has stuck close, curling up in laps or on shoulders, purring and snuggling. Today however, he refused food, and curled up with us and lapsed into semi-consciousness, though he would acknowledge that he knew we were there when we petted him. We discussed taking him to the vet to be put down, but he wasn't having seizures or anything like that, so we decided to wait and see...dragging him into the vet, for several hours in a sterile waiting room that made no sense to him when he was comfortable and curled up next to us or in our arms and still purring just did not strike us as the best thing to do for him. Of course, if he had begun to show signs of pain or seizures, we would have had to rethink that. 

 However he passed quickly, and we buried him under the pussy willow tree this evening. I am going to miss him so much...but I am so grateful he was in our lives. And we have the wonderful loving kittens to comfort us with their antics. I am writing this right now with a kitten curled up asleep on my shoulder - little black Séamus with a little tiny kitten purr. No one of them could take Tully's place, but then, like he did, they will grow up into their own unique wonderful selves. 

Goodbye till we meet again, Tully! Thank you for being your wonderful self and my friend and little fur brother all these years. 

What is remembered, lives.  

We Are Grieving a Loss....

We were stunned today by the death of one of our younger cats.

Buddha, known as BooBoo, was only four years old.He was an incredibly enthusiastic solid cat who meeped and mrrped and headbutted and loved on us with all the affection in his body for the brief time we had with him.

There was no visible reason for his passing...his weight, health and hydration all appeared good. He was, however, from a very inbred population and I think his heart basically stopped. None of his brothers and sisters survived birth. I suspect we had him as long as we were meant to have him.

I cannot believe he is gone - Dreamweaver and I are both devasted. I thank God for the blessings of BooBoo in our lives.

May he be well in the Summerlands, until we meet again.

Hard news to share...the passing of Marco

Dreamweaver chronicled some of this on her blog, too, but I also wish to speak of Marco, a precious gray and white cat that we have lost. In the picture to the left he is the cat on the right, on the left is his litter mate, Legba. This picture of them was taken last week before Marco went on walk-about one last time. Marco was born about 8-9 years ago, when Luna and I shared a house and had very little financially to be able to get cats fixed. There were a number of litters born, and many of them carried this characteristic grey and white color and pattern marking. They were all affectionate, loyal, sturdy and maybe not too bright. Marco was probably in the second or third generation of greyboys born, and I held him in my hand when he was less than half an hour old. When Dreamweaver had to move in with us for a while when she came to the area from another city, Marco adopted her hook, line and sinker. He squirmed his way into her heart and her room and announced this was his person and went with her when she found her new home.


Later, when I moved in with Dreamweaver 6 years ago, of course, Marco and I were reunited!Then he discovered the joy of the out of doors, and took to being a get-out-the-door cat. Eventually his wanderings grew longer and further away. Then came a long gap where we did not see him. When Marco turned up again a year or so later, he wore a collar and was fat and sassy. He had evidently charmed his way into yet another home! Over the 6 years we have been here, he showed up two or three times, would get fed and petted and then disappear again. We missed him sorely, but we honored that he had chosen a new home.


Until last fall. In September, Dreamweaver was going out the door at 4:30 am to leave for work, and when she opened the door, there was Marco. I was wakened to find her standing by the bed holding him in her arms; he was desperately sick and dying. He was dehydrated, starved, emaciated and crusted with snot, virtually unable to breathe. We only recognized him by his distinctive markings, which included a white spot on his right hip. Needless to say, I took him straight to the vet and was there at the door when they opened. The dr. was concerned, ran tests, gave me meds and an IV water drip to take home and frankly did not expect him to live. While at the vet, Marco endearingly climbed onto my back and shoulders while we were waiting for the dr., put his chin on the top of my head, heaved a deep sigh and began purring. I was sort of stuck there, since he was dug into my shirt with his claws. The vet and vet assistants thought he was adorable and took a picture before rescuing me!







It took a few days of giving him meds, hand feeding him, and administering fluids by IV, but finally he responded to the meds and began to eat and drink on his own. One further round of antibiotics to get the last of the congestion cleared up and he defied the vets dire predictions and began to gain weight and thrive.



He happily reintegrated into the house, reforged his old bond with us, slept on the water bed at night with us, reconnected with his old cat friends, especially his litter mate, Legba. Marco loved to be petted, and would plop onto his side, all paws up to be chin skritched and belly rubbed at the slightest excuse. We could only speculate on why he came home in such horrible shape, when he was obviously being loved and cared for at his other home. Our conjecture was that maybe they had moved and been forced to abandon him, or not been able to find him in time? We will probably never know. And yes...he did resume his old dash out the door to run outside pattern, which distressed us at first. However, short of duct taping him to a wall, there was not much to be done with him - he was fast enough that I would call it teleporting! However, while he loved to play catch me if you can, he never wandered off again, clearly having chosen to return to us permanently. Eventually, I discovered that if you didn't chase him around like a maniac, but sat down and "ignored" him, in about less than two minutes he would come tail waving to be picked up and petted! What Marco wanted was the thrill and attention of being chased!


However, this last weekend, in the confusion of the crowd sleeping over for the funeral, Marco slipped out again, and stayed gone a for a week. We wondered if the confusion had been a little too much and if he had decided to see if his "other home" was still there. All we could do was hope he would return; both Dreamweaver and I separately drove and walked around neighborhoods looking for him. Until last night. My neighbor across the way knocked on my door while Dreamweaver was on the way home. Shaken and concerned, she told me that there was a dead cat at her place and she was afraid it was one of mine. My heart sank. "What does the cat look like? I asked. "He's grey and white..." she said, and my heart broke.


Sure enough it was him - the while mark on his hip and the distinctive pattern of grey and white. Evidently he had gone to sleep that afternoon in her yard in the sun by the porch, and simply never waked up again. He had not been hit, or savaged by another animal, no sign of poison, nothing. He lay just as he had been, asleep. We suspect that his heart gave out. He was close to on to 9 years old, and the grey boy cats of his generation had, due to some inbreeding, a tendency to a heart condition. He was not the first one to go of heart failure. We are devastated. We have had too damn many losses too close together and we simply don't quite know what to do. However, he had a full long life, he was loved and happy. He died peacefully evidently in his sleep at a full age. While we deeply regret having so little time with him, due to his wandering ways, we are so grateful that we had him back the last 9 months before he passed.


I wasn't ready for you to go Marco. It's gonna take a long, long time to grieve you. I love you, and I look forward to being reunited with you in the Summerlands someday and see you coming towards me, grey tail waving, to get your chin skritched and your belly rubbed. I held you in my hands just minutes after you were born, when you were a little scrap of hissing white and grey fur....likewise I will hold you in my heart, until we meet again, little brother.

Farewell Ewok

Friday afternoon my two sneaky dogs, Ewok and MacDhu - who are house dogs and NOT allowed to roam - nosed the back door open and got out. By the time DreamWeaver woke up from her nap and I got home from work, they were no where in sight.Now, they have done this before occasionally despite our best efforts to prevent it, but they have always ALWAYS come home, even the 2 times they stayed gone over night over the years. So I went and looked for them, and was very worried, but not panicked, even when I finally had to give it up and go to bed. If they weren't home by tomorrow, I would panic then. Not much else to do at this point.

So...Saturday morning - yesterday - I got up at about 7:30 and went out. A few minutes later, MacDhu came up to me, alone, limping. I went over to him and petted him and said "MacDhu, where's Ewok?", at which point he began whining and crying piteously and pushing his head against my leg.

Heart sinking, I knew then...Ewok and MacDhu were inseperable by anything, but death.So I helped Macdhu inside, checked him over for injuries, but he appeared to be only strained and bruised on his left side. I told DreamWeaver what was going on, and set out with a leash and some dog treats in my car to run the local roads, looking to see if I could spot Ewok - please God! - wandering somewhere. I ran the back roads for about 40 minutes, and finally was coming down 357 back towards the house after getting gas.

And I found him about a quarter of a mile from the house in the center of the road. However it happened, it was fairly recent, just long enough for rigor to have passed off. And it was quick and clean; he was unmarked, except that his neck was broken. I pulled into a drive way further down and got a neighbor in a house there to come out and block traffic for me. I keep a blanket in my car, and I went and got his body and wrapped him in the blanket and got him out of the road and down to my car and safe. Then I had to pull over in a subdivision and cried my eyes out.We took him to the vet clinic to get him cremated and will get his ashes back.

Ewok was 12 years old, but as playful and energetic as a puppy. The only real sign of age was a faint beginning of cataracts and the fact that he had gotten very deaf over the last year. That proved his undoing, ultimately. My guess is he did not hear or see the car in the early light before dawn. MacDhu either got slammed with him at the same time, or got bumped trying to stay with the body untlil day light came. I can only guess which. So one of my precious little buddies is gone. And I feel like my heart is broken in pieces. Ewok always, as a young dog and through out his life, had a bad pattern of running off, if he wasn't on a leash or in a fenced in yard. And the way he could dig, well, fences rarely held him. Despite carefully minimizing or preventing his opportunities to run, it did happen off and on. Because of this pattern, that we never could train out of him, he was courting this death for a long time. He no longer had the reflexes of youth to protect him, and he could not dodge this one last time.

MacDhu is grieving. He will be ok, eventually. He will eat if I sit with him, and he even has played a little with his favorite toy. But its very obvious that his heart is broken too. He is moving a little better to day, and walking better, but he will not willing let me or out of his sight. I had rescued him 2 years before when he was a wandering stray dog because he and Ewok had become buddies on Ewoks daily walks back then. And MacDhu LOVES to chase cars and will hang himself on a leash to try to get one. (he may have precipitated the accident, who knows? I don't think so though because of where Ewoks body was.)

However, when I was gently walking MacDhu yesterday to go potty, a car went by and he immediately pressed up against my leg and just shook. I was horrified. If it broke MacDhu of car chasing, that would be one good thing from this nightmare, but I feel so bad for the trauma he obviously went through!

Life will go on, and time will pass. We all have wonderful memories of Ewok and will treasure him in our hearts always. Macdhu is still with us and will be ok, and we will happily spoil him rotten - er - rottener than he is already spoiled, ahem. And we will learn from Macdhu because he has important lessons to teach us. He is teaching us that it's ok to grieve. It's ok to play with your toys a little, even if you are sad. Food still tastes good, and treats are still fun. Be near to your best friends and they will help you when you are sad. And maybe squirrels really are small cats and when you are not sore any more you might just catch one. And you are not alone because you are loved. I am going to do my best to follow my sweet dog's example...I think he maybe wiser than me.

Hail and farewell Ewok! Good dog and much loved ... you will not be forgotten!