Visitor

   Mitty Moo, the neighbor cat, came around this evening & sat at my front door, crying out for his buddy Gypsy. He apparently doesn't realize she's not here to whisper sweet nothings to him anymore. He has always made me do a double-take because he looks so much like Atom, too... Double sadness for me.
   There are so many things I miss about having a kitty in the house... and the full impact of it has been hitting me the last two weeks. I miss having them run up and greet me at the door when I get home from work. I miss them snuggling up to me on the couch or in bed, purring like a motor. I miss them sitting on the toilet and waiting patiently for me to get out of the shower, so I can pay attention to them again. I miss Gyp yelling at me every time I whistled. She HATED it when I whistled—would come running from anywhere in the house and find me and demand that I stopped. I used to whistle the "I Dream of Jeanie" (or, more accurately, "I Dream of Gyppy") song when I wanted to get her attention. I miss seeing them rolling around on the deck in the sunshine.
   People often don't give cats enough credit for their companionship and unique personalities. Or maybe mine were uncommonly special. Maybe both.  :)

Gyppy Time

    Gypsy had several good days last week, and ate a little food Tuesday through Friday. On Saturday and Sunday, though, she started vomiting, and went off food again. She's not in pain, and still loves getting fluids, but I can tell she is having trouble getting comfortable. These days she usually doesn't want to sit on me, but still snuggles up next to me. It's comforting to feel her warm body up against me, and the low, steady rumble of her purring. She is still bright and alert and happy.
   I'm giving her hospice care; neither hastening nor prolonging her life, just providing support and giving her the best quality of life possible. She's clearly not ready to give up, but is becoming a shadow of her former self; quieter, and thin. It's so difficult to see her go through this.
   I'm realizing that in some ways, though I treasure the time I have with her, I'm in the most difficult phase of her life—for myself, emotionally. While Atom's death was heart-wrenchingly fast—only 4 days from diagnosis to his end—in some ways it was easier to take. I didn't see it coming. Gypsy was diagnosed with kidney disease the same day that Atom died, so I've basically been grieving for her ever since. I'm torn between the hope that she can overcome this for a time, and the pain of watching her decline. It is awful to be grieving for someone while they are still here, and I remind myself that she will sense this and take cues from me.

   I feel so deeply sad, but am trying to allow myself some grace. I remind myself that I've been fortunate to have been spared the loss of someone so close to me for many years. Atom was gone so quickly that I didn't have time to stop and think about it. I've lost both my grandmothers in the last few years, but never in my life did I live close to them, so although I loved them, we didn't have a tight bond. Mom has lost Bailey and Madison, her Golden Retrievers, with whom I used to live. But I was already living in Kansas City when they passed, so I was sheltered from the pain. They didn't feel like "mine" anymore—I was sad for her, not myself.

   The last time I felt such deep pain was when I had to say good-bye to Justin, another Golden, when I was in college. He was the family dog, but really he was mine—like a big, furry little brother. I grew up with him at my side. He was ten when he was diagnosed with cancer. I'll never forget that call from the vet. Justin had been dropped off for exploratory surgery, in an attempt to determine why he had been so sick for a few months. "His body is full of cancer," the vet said quietly. "What do you want us to do?"

   I knew that he was so uncomfortable that it didn't feel right to let him come home and continue to suffer. I met the vet at the office—Charlotte drove me there. Justin's tail thumped against the inside of the metal cage when he saw me. He thought he was going home. I knelt and held his big, heavy head in my lap while she gave him the injection. It was the hardest thing I'd even done. I was twenty-one.

   These intense feelings were matched when I said good-bye to Atom. He declined so rapidly, and when I went to the emergency vet to visit him (he was on an IV for the weekend, to see if he'd respond), I knew immediately that the right thing to do was to let him go. He looked miserable. Yet, almost imperceptibly, he lifted his head and purred when he felt my hand stroking his face. His nose twitched. He knew it was me, coming to say good-bye, and he was glad I was with him.

   Gypsy will be the hardest yet; she has been with me longer than any animal, and we've had the tightest bond. It's hard to even describe how close I feel to her. I can't imagine life without her.

   No matter how long our pets are with us, whether it's one year or twenty-five, it's never long enough. And there's really no way to prepare for the big hole that they leave in your heart when you lose them. No matter how difficult this is, I'm reminding myself that they all have had amazing, happy lives that I have helped provide for them. They are the family that you get to choose. And my life is immeasurably better because of them.

Best. Art. Ever.

   My bestest buddy, Kelly, is working on an awesome tribute to the furry friends in my life (including the recently departed). It's not quite complete, but I'm already frame-shopping. (((LOVE)))

If it pleases the queen...

   Allyson just told me that she bought her kitty, Lacey, a new fleece (dog) bed for Christmas, and Lacey has hardly stepped out of it ever since. I was beaming when I read it: so sweet! And it reminded me of something similar that my cats have done:

   In Atom's last few months, he got really bold about stealing the dogs' beds, and I frequently spotted him curled up into a tiny ball in the middle of their big beds, with the dogs nervously shuffling around, afraid to disturb him to reclaim their spot. It made me so happy for him to take charge.

   Similarly, recently Gypsy has said "screw your rules" and is now spending the majority of her time lounging on the dining room table, where the cats had never been allowed before. I willingly gave in, in an attempt to coax her to eat, and now her bowls are right in the middle. Who cares... as long as the queen is pleased!  :)

Happy Birthday, Lil' Attie!

   My lil' guy would have turned 13 years old today, had his life not been cut short by kidney disease. Gypsy and I still miss him and think about him every day. Her health took a turn for the worse right after we lost her friend, and I don't believe it's pure coincidence. I'm just starting to feel like I've nursed her back to a new normalcy, after nine days of attentive care.
   And the dogs? Well, dogs are dogs. They're a little clueless about everything but dinnertime.
   We miss you, buddy! Hope there's an endless supply of salmon treats and mice to chase, wherever you are!

Great Horned Owl

   I was following Joni on the way home from the hike, and she unexpectedly pulled over, telling me that she thought she had seen a owl on the side of the road. So we turned back and pulled safely over to the side of Highway 45, got out and crossed the street. From a distance I could see the telltale "horns" sticking up from the dead grasses. The owl flopped around, flailing its wings clumsily and tried to escape. The poor thing. As Joni noted, its wing bent the wrong direction—a serious, compound fracture. I took these photos from my lousy Blackberry-cam, which struggles in low light:

And Joni got this one with her camera:

   The owl glared at us as we stood there and marveled at its stunning, barred feathers, fuzzy "horns" and clear, brilliant eyes. It blinked slowly and softly, and I couldn't get over how much it looked like a cat—it really reminded me of Atom! Its talons were surprisingly large for the size of the bird, and looked fuzzy. Joni said these guys are called "the tiger of the sky" due to their ferocity. It was quieter now; perhaps because it realized we weren't there to eat it. The larger question was, were we there to rescue it?

   We debated for a few minutes. We'd have to safely catch it and get it into Joni's dog crate, keep it alive overnight, then deliver it to OWL (Operation Wildlife) tomorrow. Would it even make it that long? One eye now opened wider than the other, and the owl's life seemed to be draining away.

   Ultimately it was Joni's realization that convinced us to leave it where it was, so that nature could take its course. It would probably be eaten by a coyote. But the alternative—due to the severely broken wing—would be a life in captivity, at best. And that didn't seem to suit this noble, beautiful, and thoroughly wild creature. It wasn't an easy decision, given the extent to which both Joni and I are animal lovers. But it was the right one.

   I followed her home, and we both independently enjoyed the quiet contemplation of the harsh reality of nature, accompanied by a strikingly gorgeous sunset.

Nekonook

  Since I taught Gypsy to make the "maneki neko" gesture on command years ago, I've been enchanted by the Japanese symbol of luck-bringing. So when I ran across Megan's crochet work in her Etsy shop, Nekonook, I thought commissioning a custom kitty from her would be a great tribute to my dear friend. I don't have it yet, but it has just been completed & shipped, so I'm VERY excited to see it in person! it reminds me so much of Lil' Attie, too...

Worrisome Week...

   It has been a long, tiring week. Miss Gypsy has been sick, vomiting every day between the hours of 2 and 4 am, and sometimes while I'm at work, too. I'm very concerned about her, and about keeping her healthy and staving off the kidney disease as long as possible. I've been uneasy ever since I found out she was sick—the very night I had to say good-bye to Atom for the same illness. But overall she has seemed well. She has lost 1/4 of her body weight this year, but otherwise is her perky, friendly, outgoing, bright, talkative self. Her body may be sick, but her spirit is alive and well. Her eyes are bright... And she never takes them off of me. Nearly every moment that I'm home, she's right beside me. And so far, thank goodness, she loves the prescription diet and clamors for more.

   This morning I thought of Atom, and started remembering our final moments together. How extremely sick and weak he looked, but despite that, how loudly and contentedly he purred when I reached in to stroke his face. Remembering that was more than I could take and I burst into tears again. I feel like he was telling me it was okay, and that he was ready to leave. But I worry that he suffered and am devastated that I couldn't do anything to help him.

   I looked over and Gypsy was perched on the toilet, as she does every day, watching me brush my teeth and apply my makeup. She raised her paw and shook it, meowing, like a perfect 招き猫 - maneki neko. It is more than I can take, to imagine losing her... She has been my constant companion for over 14 years. All I can do is hope that her years of beckoning for my attention will beckon some luck to us as well. がんばって、ギップシ！　元気になってください。。。

Spoke Too Soon

   Today started out mega-awesome, but started to turn sour when I left work. I had planned to stop by the e-vet to pick up Atom's remains. I allowed almost a month to pass, thinking I was past the raw emotion from grief. I was wrong. The recpetionist was so quiet and kind; she went in the back to retrieve my box, and lovingly placed it in my hands, saying, "I am sincerely sorry for your loss." It was so sweet, but I wasn't ready. I had to put my sunglasses on as I left the building, to conceal the steady stream of tears rolling down my cheeks once again.
    I composed myself in the car and headed home. On Shawnee Mission Parkway, ironically RIGHT in front of the Toyota collision department building, a guy in the pickup in front of me slammed on his brakes and came to an *extremely* abrupt stop. I followed suit, but my brakes didn't get me there fast enough, & I rear-ended him.
    We both got out of our cars, and he greeted me in an understated but very friendly way. I asked him how bad the damage was, bracing for his answer. "My truck is fine," he said. "I've got a hitch on it. Unfortunately your car didn't fare so well."

    Yep, I had a hitch embedded in my front bumper. Groan. We exchanged cars and he told me that he didn't intend to report the accident to the police or the insurance company. " I have no damage to report," he said. Fortunately, me damage was minor—a dimple on the bumper. Although I don't think there was any way I could have avoided this (other than not being there right then!), the rear-ended is always at fault, right?
    He told me he hoped I'd have a better weekend and we left. As I drove home, I thought about how lucky I was for his hitch: although it damaged my car worse than it may have otherwise, at least it protected his car from harm.

   I came home and noticed a slip of paper tucked under the lid of Atom's box. It was a copy of "The Rainbow Bridge." Hello, uncontrollable tears of sadness. I stood in my kitchen bawling again, with my three pets wondering what the hell was wrong with me.
    Well, looking at the bright side, my weekend can only get better, right? :I

YOU'RE HOME.

   I think Gypsy missed me, after 48 hours alone in the house--for the first time since I adopted Atom over 12 years and 7 months ago. She greeted me at the door (like she usually does) and has followed me around all day. And I've encouaged it by giving her two helpings of the prescription canned food she loves (she was diagnosed with poor kidney function Thursday night), as well as some shrimp from the Vietnamese spring rolls I just made, and tons of love. She has been spoiled since the day I found her over 14 years ago, as a starving, feral, stray kitty. So now I'm upping the ante and she'll be spoiled on a completely different order of magnitude.
   While I was camping, Carolyn, in reference to my Shibas, quoted her grandmother: "They probably think they fell in the honey pot!" And I think that sums it up nicely. I adore these animals and would do anything for them. I cherish them for their companionship, for making me laugh, and for being an inspiration to my artwork. Just coming home to their eager, fuzzy faces makes me happy almost beyond imagination. :)

Spooky

   Just pulled in the driveway to see a cat that looked eerily like Atom sitting on my front porch. He even has the white patch on his chest! My heart stopped for a second, like I was seeing the ghost of my dear kitty.
   He was skittish but friendly, so I went inside and brought him a handful of cat food—which he appreciated and gobbled up, though he didn't appear to be underweight. He wasn't wearing a collar or ID. I'm NOT taking in another cat, but if he keeps coming around I'll get him to a shelter...

Tributes to my Lil' Buddy

   Kelly was with me the day I picked out Atom—he's known him as long as I have! He posted this sweet tribute and awesome illustration on his blog:

   I've received some cards from friends this week—thanks to all. I especially love the "angel Atom" that Charlotte drew for me. I have the best friends ever, and I really appreciate your kindness. (That goes for Atom's vet as well.)

   Coincidentally, Thursday's KC Star had a story about the famous old Katz drug store, whose mascot looks a little familiar...

Shout out to Red Bridge Animal Clinic

   I lost Atom just 4 days ago, and today I received a letter in the mail from K State University that Red Bridge had made a significant contribution to their veterinary program in Atom's name. I'm not sure how common a gesture this is (I have not heard of this before), but I thought that was pretty amazing, and a great tribute to a pet I loved very much—helping to educate the next generation of veterinarians!

   P.S. Kristin just sent a photo of her new, sweet, adorable, contraband cat, Mr. Drizzle. Don't tell her landlord!

Happy 6th Birthday, Mr. Tay!

   I met Taylor on June 21, 2008 at the Paws in the Park fundraiser, he joined my household shortly thereafter, and I've felt lucky to have him since day one! Today we celebrated his birthday in style, with a few extra treats and a romp at Stoll Park, with his Shiba buddies, Sookie (and Ryan), and Layla (and Ashley). He is snoozing so hard at my feet on the couch right now that I can assure you that he had a BLAST.
   Losing Atom this week has been a sobering reminder that we need to appreciate each and every moment with our loved ones, whether they walk on two legs or four. So give your pets an extra big hug and an extra treat today. Mr. Tay would be very pleased if you did.
   The clouds over the park tonight were dramatic and beautiful. We enjoyed quite a show as our doggies romped and played together. (If only I had brought my GOOD camera... AARGH!!)

Atom Drawing

   My friend Dave called tonight to check in on me, and while we were chatting, I drew this cartoon Atom. It simply says, "Atom was a very good kitty."

Autumn Wishes

   Autumn is a time of transition, and this week underscored that. Easily the worst week I've had at work in 14 years.... and it ended on a high note. I ended my relationship with my fella... and another suitor emerged. I said good-bye to an old best friend... and met a new one. I had a fun and joyful weekend, filled with friends and activities, breathtaking beauty... and experienced heartbreaking loss.
   It's an overused metaphor, but the leaves change from brilliant green to brilliant red and yellow literally overnight; the woods burst forth with color, but it is fleeting. The hot weather subsides in favor of cooler winds. Everything prepares for winter... a quieter, more reflective time.

   Atom passed on a beautiful, warm, clear night, with a sky full of stars. This weekend was the height of the fall color spectrum, and it was spectacular this year. He wasn't yet thirteen, and my aim was to have him around for at least twenty years, so his precious life was shorter than I ever would have imagined. He should have seen a lot more changing of the seasons. I wasn't ready.
   I bawled on the whole drive home from Mission Med Vet, and was still crying when I entered the house. I was worried that I smelled like the hospital and that my three pets would scatter when I came in. It was quite the opposite. The dogs rushed me first, Aki and Taylor both licking my hands, practically knocking me over, and when I knelt, they jumped in my lap and kissed my face, wiping away my tears. They were overjoyed to see me. Gypsy hung back at first. I knew that I smelled like Atom and the toxins in his body and assumed she would hide. But to my surprise, when the dogs backed off, she moved right in, and she, too, licked my hands and face (so forcefully with her raspy tongue that it actually hurt a bit), purred, and clung to me.
   Nothing could have made me happier or more secure than this welcome from the three of them. It felt like they understood and forgave me for what I had to do.
   My 2011 has had some of the highest highs and the lowest lows. Autumn is a time of transition, and I am ready for my life to stabilize and to experience happier days ahead. 

Love is Like Life...

   I wasn't familiar with the quote above, until I saw this stunning letterpress art by my dear friends, Madeline and Diane. I recently acquired the print and have it framed in my living room. When I walked past it today, it seemed like the perfect tribute to my little buddy, Atom, who passed away tonight after a brief battle with kidney failure.

   When I went to the emergency vet to visit him tonight, he leaned into my hand and purred and purred while I rubbed his head and neck. He was glad to see me, but he hadn't eaten in nearly three days, and he didn't even try to stand up. He still looked like his sweet self, but weary. There is no question in my mind that he was ready to say good-bye. And although I was not, I knew what was best for him.

Atom, 12/31/98 - 10/9/11

I will never forget any of my pets,

nor can they ever be replaced.

Each is unique.

Each is special.

Each is treasured.

There's a huge hole in my heart today.

I love you, lil' buddy.

Simon's Cat + My Cat

   Seeing Atom so sick has me reminiscing about his kitten-hood. I'm a huge fan of the "Simon's Cat" animated series, as the creator clearly understands feline behavior and illustrates it in a spectacularly simple way, to great effect. There was a new release this week, and it has me both laughing out loud and crying, because it so reminds me of introducing Gypsy to her new diminutive roommate—and the love-hate relationship with which they (and probably all cats) began.
   Kittens are inherently funny, and Atom was no exception. One specific incident: when I first brought him home, he was SO tiny. But he defined "small but mighty." Kelly, who was with me when I got him, had come over to visit him. He picked Atom up and was holding him up to his face, playing with him and teasing him and sticking his nose right in Atom's face. Atom playfully purred and growled and squirmed. Then suddenly he reeled back and popped Kelly in the face, sending his glasses flying across the room. For a second we were horrified because we were afraid the glasses were toast. But they were fine, and we couldn't stop laughing.

My Heart is Breaking...

   Unfortunately, the good morning did not carry into the afternoon. When I arrived at the vet, Atom's blood was being drawn, to see if 2.5 days on IV fluids had improved his numbers. Their blood machine wasn't working correctly, so I had to wait. I talked to the vet tech—who was awesome and made me feel good—and Atom sat in the kennel and purred as I rubbed his head. He looked tired, but not bad. But when Dr. Ebeling came up, I could tell it wasn't good news. Atom's creatinine had gone UP, not down. He was worse despite the treatment.
   There aren't many options. Any time spent off the IV, for now, will make him lose ground. There is no guarantee that he can get better, but since he looked good, the doc and the tech recommended up to 3 more days on the IV. Some cats DO overcome this. Their office isn't open on Sunday, and no one would be there to monitor Atom round-the-clock. So he had to go to the emergency vet, at least until Monday morning.
   I followed their advice and took Atom home to feed him, since he hadn't eaten in 24 hours. He was either too uncomfortable, or just too bewildered from staying at the vet's office. He refused to eat. He didn't want to be held. I could tell he didn't feel good. So I picked up Kelly and we took him to the e-vet, discussed all the options and I failed to fight back my tears. Atom looked good, but didn't feel good enough to eat. I hated to subject him to more treatment, but I also didn't want to give up on him too soon. It was heart wrenching.
   Euthanasia can be the kindest gift that we give our pets, to end their suffering. But when it's so unclear if they are ready to give up, or trying to rally, then the owner suffers. With Atom I just can't tell. I decided to leave him at the e-vet until Monday, transfer him to my own vet, and have them check his blood again. If he is improved, I'll let them administer more fluids. If he hasn't eaten or his levels worsen, then the decision will be made for me. I feel helpless. I love him so much and will only keep pushing if his quality of life is still good. But even if he is declining, on some level I will feel that I'm killing my friend.
   It has been many years, thankfully, that I've had to make this decision. It never gets easier.
   I'm going to spend tomorrow with friends, so that I won't be cooped up in my house with Atom being conspicuously absent. If you're reading this, please keep us in your thoughts.

Sunrise Surprises

   I got moving early this morning for an intense Vinyassa class at Darling Yoga. It was my last day for the Groupon, and I wanted to make it count. As I signed in at the desk, I noticed the name before me was a woman named Sawako... Not your standard name in the Midwest! I went into the studio, laid out my mat and started stretching. Two women came in and set up across from me.
   One said, "What is it again?" And her friend answered, "Kon-ni-chi-wa." They went back and forth until the first woman pronounced it correctly. (Well, almost correctly!)
   I finally got up the nerve to say「おはようございます!」
   The Japanese woman, Sawako, did a double-take. 「ああ！日本語が話せます？」
 「はい、でも少しだけ出来ますよ。」
   She looked shocked. She complimented me on my speaking and pronunciation, to which I demurred. I haven't practiced in over 3 years! Her friend jumped in, "She just moved here from Japan with her husband five months ago."
   We talked for a few more minutes, until Emily came in to lead the class. I couldn't wait to talk to Sawako some more. After 90 minutes of challenging yoga that included half moon, reversed half moon, crow, handstands and more, we finally got to meet out in the lobby.
   Sawako lived her whole life in Okinawa, which has a climate like Hawaii. She has seen snow, but never lived in a cold and snowy place. I told her about the climate, and not to believe anyone who said that Kansas City has nothing to do. I told her about some of my favorite things, including One Bite Japanese Grill, for when she has a craving for home-cooking and authentic okonomiyaki. She said she needed to practice her English, since in middle school she was taught British English, and in high school, American English. She still finds the accents confusing, though it was hard to believe considering how well she spoke. I told her I'd love to have someone to practice Japanese with too. I gave her my business card and sincerely hope that she'll get in touch. I so enjoyed talking with her!
   When I returned home, I found Bob, my next-door neighbor, mowing and mulching my front yard. I love my neighbors!!!
   It was a gorgeous day, and I was hoping for a good one. I went to pick up Atom from the vet at noon, to find out if the IV fluid treatments kicked his kidneys back in gear. Before I knew Atom was sick, Kelly and I had planned to take the pups up to Weston today for a beautiful fall hike. Today seemed too perfect and gorgeous for bad news, so I was counting on Atom to pull through...

   And so was his best buddy, Gypsy. She's been missing him ever since I dropped him at the vet yesterday morning... And following me around, clinging to me, meowing and purring incessantly. I can't sit down without her muscle-ing into my lap, even if I playfully hold her back. I could tell she would be so happy when Lil' Attie returned!