We've Lost Another Furbaby

Hello. It's been over a year since I posted here last. I first posted in October 2008, when my black cat Vicki was mauled to death by dogs on October 8. Since then, we've had a rough year. At this time last year, I was caregiver to my mother-in-law, who was dying of Alzheimer's. This past December 5, this dear lady lost her battle with that terrible disease. We've been battling financial difficulties and also I had to have surgery (thyroid removed). And now we have lost another cat.

This time it was Anna, our white cat with the striped raccoon tail. She was so sweet. She had the softest meow, the softest purr. She loved laps. If you sat down, she'd be in your lap. And when I'd be on the computer, she'd lay on top of the monitor and hang her little head over the edge and look at me while she dropped off for a nap. Now she is gone.

We don't know what killed her. 3 weeks ago today, she got out of the house and disappeared. No one saw her go. My daughter Sara and I searched the house for her. We searched the yard outside. For the next 2 1/2 weeks I walked through the neighborhood, calling her name and knocking on doors and asking neighbors if they had seen a white cat with a coon tail and for them to please be on the lookout for her. Everyone was very kind and promised they would keep an eye out, but no one had seen her. My husband told me that one night when he was working (he's a Papa John's pizza delivery driver), as he was driving home he thought he saw a white cat, but he couldn't stop and anyway he said it was just a glimpse and he didn't know where the cat went. We had no idea where she was, and I was hoping that maybe she had found another loving family. She was so friendly, she'd go up to anybody.

This past Sunday, at around midnight, my daughter Sara (who is 13) ran into my room. Anna was Sara's special kitty, and Sara had been missing her so. "Anna's home, Anna's home!" she cried happily. "Wonderful!" I responded, and together we ran down to the basement to see her.

The minute I saw her, however, I knew that something was wrong. She was huddled up on the floor, not moving. I bent down and petted her gently, calling her name and touching her with my hands. She had lost weight, and her fur was dingy. She did not respond to me. She didn't look at me. We put food and water in front of her, and she wouldn't eat or even drink any water. She couldn't walk. All she would do was sort of creep, inch by inch, across the floor.

My older daughter, Marianne, told us that she had been upstairs in our den. There's a sliding glass door that leads out to our back yard. Marianne said she heard a cat's meow, looked up, and there was Anna looking in! Marianne hollered out that Anna was back, and Sara ran out immediately, picked her up, and brought her inside. Sara told me that Anna purred when she picked her up.

I was really worried about this strange behavior. She looked really sick. She felt sort of cold to the touch. We lined her pet bed with warm towels, gently lifted her into it, and wrapped the towels snugly around her. Once or twice, she meowed, and that worried me. It was a loud, piercing meow, so unlike her usual very soft meow. She must have been in pain, or frightened. I felt so bad I wasn't able to help her. But then she settled down and seemed to be resting quietly. My last memory of her in life was of her lying in her pet bed, wrapped in warm towels and resting peacefully.

At this point, it was about 2 am. We discussed how strangely she was acting and how she didn't look well. We finally decided that we would take her to the vet the very first thing in the morning and find out what was wrong. Marianne took the pet bed, with Anna safely wrapped up in the towels lying in it, into her own bed so she could watch her throughout the night.

We didn't get the chance to take her to the vet. At about 6:30 am, Marianne came upstairs and told us, "Anna died."

What happened to her during those 2 1/2 weeks, we don't know. We don't know where she was. We don't know if she had some sort of accident or if she simply died of exposure and starvation. Before this happened, she was perfectly healthy. She was 6 years old. She had no wounds on her when she came home and was not bleeding, although Marianne told us it seemed to her that one of Anna's legs was broken. She seemed unable to walk, and how she managed to drag herself home with a broken leg I don't know. All we know is that she somehow made her way home before she died, and that she spent her last hours surrounded by our love. I am glad that God brought her home to us and that she didn't die out in the woods somewhere with no one to know or care.

I wonder if I could have done more. I walked through the neighborhood calling her name and asking neighbors if they had seen her. I went to the animal shelter, checked the cat room, and gave her description to them. Maybe I just didn't go to the right place, that one place where she could have been. I will always wonder what she went through and where she was during those 2 1/2 week.

Thanks for reading my story. Any words of comfort will be appreciated.

Cathy

My Beloved Vicki Is Dead

I'm glad I found this site. It has just been over 48 hours since I lost my precious kitty. She was 7 years old, named Vicki, pure black. (I have a thing for black cats; I think they are the most beautiful creatures on earth!) She was a housecat, but she had lately gotten into the habit of slipping out the front door whenever someone opened it, going out onto the porch, and rolling around on her back. I mistakingly thought, oh, she's right here in our yard, she'll be all right.

Day before yesterday, my 12-year-old daughter was returning from a 3-day field trip at about 5:30 p.m. She told me that when she opened the door, Vicki scooted out. I was downstairs in the basement. A couple of minutes later, it was that quick, she ran down screaming, "Vicki!" and "dogs!" I ran, my heart in my throat.

My husband was in the back yard, yelling at a large black dog. My poor baby was lying on the wet grass (it was raining), not moving, still trying to breathe but her eyes already glazing over. I ran and got a box, and we tenderly lifted her into it. My husband and I ran to try to phone the vet. He had to call, I was so hysterical. I ran back out to the front porch, where my daughter was stroking her, in tears, begging her, "Hang on, Vicki, please hang on." She was still trying to breathe. In a minute, though, she was breathing no more. Her glazed eyes and perfectly still body showed all too clearly that she was gone.

My poor daughter cried, "Mommy, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I should have made her come back inside!" And I hugged her and said, "No, honey, it's not your fault." I was feeling that it was MY fault for not coming up and getting Vicki inside, but I had no idea at all, and neither did my husband.

There were 2 dogs, and they grabbed her and mauled her. I did not see this, but my daughter did. She said they had her up in the air, chewing on her. We couldn't have done anything. It happened so fast. I have never felt so devastated. I picked her poor still body up and practically howled with pain and grief. I must have stood there crying for 15 minutes, holding her like a baby. I didn't feel this bad with our last cat, who died of old age back in 2001. I cried when she died, but she died peacefully, just crawled under a chair and went to sleep and never woke up. But my poor Vicki--I can still see her gasping for breath, her eyes already glazed over. I hope she was able to feel our gentle hands trying to comfort her in her last moments.

We have already buried her. The night of her death she spent in our freezer, wrapped in a garbage bag. I went out several times to pet her cold, stiff body and cry. I cut some of her black fur, which I put into an envelope as a keepsake. I think I will sleep with it under my pillow tonight. A friend of my older daughter's dug a grave yesterday, and we buried her yesterday afternoon. I wrote her a farewell note and put it under her paws and kissed her goodbye. I put a vase of black silk roses at the grave and wrote her name on a rock with Liquid Paper.

How I miss her! She used to lounge on my bed all day, and whenever I go into my room I remember her being there. She would lay at my feet while I was in bed and walk up to my head and butt my face with hers. And if I got up to go to the bathroom, she would follow me in there. If I shut the door she would scratch at the door, meow, and even extend her paws under the door until I opened it, and then she'd come in with her fussy little "meow" to scold me!

The night before she died, she was real lovey-dovey, in a way she had not been for a long time. She went back and forth, rubbing my leg, and she spent over half an hour lying in my lap. Now I wonder if the Lord had her do this to tell me good-bye. I will cherish it always.

I have to pull myself together because I have so much to do that cannot wait. We are in financial difficulties and do not even answer the phone if we don't know who it is because creditors are calling us all day long. I'm also the primary caregiver for my elderly mother-in-law, who is here with us and has advanced Alzheimer's. Plus we are concerned about our 17-year-old daughter, who has diabetes and is missing too much school. I'm trying to cope with all this, and I have bipolar disorder, and I'm just hoping that my grief over Vicki won't send me into another episode. Vicki helped me chill out in the midst of all this. And now she is gone.

I feel so bad for my 12-year-old daughter. She blames herself for not bringing Vicki back into the house. She also saw the dogs attacking Vicki. How I wish she had not seen that.

We have 2 other cats, and they are sweet, but it won't be the same without my Vicki. She was my kitty cat, and I was her pet person. I just hope that she remembers her pet person where she is now.

Thanks for reading this long post. Please remember us in your prayers.

Cathy in GA