Malibu's Mom
07-22-2011, 11:57 PM
http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5284/5267397186_151d808271.jpg (http://www.flickr.com/photos/digbarkrun/5267397186/)
Tiger yawning (http://www.flickr.com/photos/digbarkrun/5267397186/) by seekingsolace (http://www.flickr.com/people/digbarkrun/), on Flickr
July 13, 2008. Tiger had been with us for several years. I was the reason that Tiger stuck around. He had been thrown out of a car window at the stop sign in front of our house and permanently injured his tail in the process, though it did not bother him. I was explicitly told by my parents that I was to NOT to feed him, because if I did, he'd stick around. That was exactly what I wanted. I went out and snuck him kibble and water, and, yes, he did stick around. And became an awesome cat that we all loved and adored.
Kind, tolerant and charmingly chubby, he helped to raise two kittens and taught the dog appropriate behavior. He was just plain sweet and loving. What I like to call a "buddha cat", seemingly eternally peaceful. He was diagnosed with a heart murmur early on. Unfortunately, it continued to progress. It was just a matter of time.
There I sat when the emergency vet called. He's going into cardiac arrest and the kindest thing to do is emergency euthanasia, she told us. He had gone in a few days before, and bounced back between improving and getting worse. Nobody was sure exactly what was wrong with him, although it undoubtedly had to do with his heart. But now it did not matter.
We all cried. Me, my brother, my mom and it sounded like the vet was getting a little choked up, too. I'm sure she had fallen in love with him just like everybody else.
He was a little over 5 years old. The first cat I had ever lost. The only cat my curmudgeony senior Amber ever bonded with. The cat that charmed everybody he met. Never again would I feel his soft fur, gently scritch his chin, or giggle at him as he would try his hand at acrobatics whilst playing with a feather toy. It just hit me like a brick wall. He was simply gone forever.
http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5255/5489290401_bac68f9b86.jpg (http://www.flickr.com/photos/digbarkrun/5489290401/)
Malibu portrait (http://www.flickr.com/photos/digbarkrun/5489290401/) by seekingsolace (http://www.flickr.com/people/digbarkrun/), on Flickr
July 13, 2009. A small, malnourished and petrified kitten seeking shelter from the frighteningly large world around her, seemingly finds safety in the wheel housing of a car, a somewhat older model Chevrolet Malibu, one of the "abused cars" that my brother likes to take in. When she sees a large man, 6'4 tall, approaching her tiny self, she panics and squeezes into the car engine, only to find herself stuck. The more terrified she becomes, the more she finds herself lodged.
The man, however, has no ill intentions, rather he wants to help. He summons me to assist in the rescue mission, and we soon find it takes more time than we originally expected. Standing directly in the hot July sun, more than likely an 100 degree day, waves radiating off the hot street and sweat dripping heavily from our brows, he finishes in over an hour.
"Clang!", the kitten drops down suddenly, and of all directions she chooses, it's to the porch where I have prepared a carrier. She charges, tiny feet pounding the ground, heart beating tremendously fast. I run after her and I pick her up. I don't think, I just do. I find myself with arms decorated with so many scratches and bites, I'm not sure if I just caught a kitten or a bobcat. I am, however, still satisfied with myself for having wrangled her in spite.
The little kitten is scared of people. She hides in a small box whenever she sees them coming and hisses when they come too close. She scratches and bites when handled. She doesn't want to come out too far when you feed her wet food. She most certainly does not want to be handled. People have captued her, put her in a cage, vets have poked and prodded her. Why would she be anything BUT afraid of them? People have brought her nothing but stress.
I knew that animals don't learn to like people overnight. It's a process. I started to spend more time with her. I moved her into the bathroom, which usually has plenty of traffic going in and out. I started putting her wet food further away from the box. I would wiggle a toy in front of her. Nearly irresistible, she would run out and realize that she had "put herself in danger", and run right back in. It was a process, indeed, but not as long as it could have been. A few weeks and she made a breakthrough. People were OK, she realized. And she never went back.
Heart cat, hopeful therapy cat, show cat. That's what Malibu is today. She is sitting next to me as I write, watching the world go by through the window with her beautiful gem like eyes, one emerald and one sapphire. Her long fluffy tail flicks occasionally and the somewhat harsh artificial light does not do justice to her beautiful ticked coat. She reminds me of a living painting, all the details carefully crafted, from each strand of hair that has two alternating bands of color, to her elegant long fur, to her lovely contrasting eyes. She is the single most beautiful cat I have laid eyes on, and she is mine.
Malibu will never fill the hole in my heart that Tiger left. No one ever can. But I know God gave me Malibu to ease the suffering I felt and the suffering I was going to feel in the rough years that followed. He gave me a most wonderful gift that I will always treasure.
And I find solace in the fact that one day, far from now if God is willing, I will be reunited with them all for the rest of eternity.
(please excuse my grammar, it is not my forte :))
Tiger yawning (http://www.flickr.com/photos/digbarkrun/5267397186/) by seekingsolace (http://www.flickr.com/people/digbarkrun/), on Flickr
July 13, 2008. Tiger had been with us for several years. I was the reason that Tiger stuck around. He had been thrown out of a car window at the stop sign in front of our house and permanently injured his tail in the process, though it did not bother him. I was explicitly told by my parents that I was to NOT to feed him, because if I did, he'd stick around. That was exactly what I wanted. I went out and snuck him kibble and water, and, yes, he did stick around. And became an awesome cat that we all loved and adored.
Kind, tolerant and charmingly chubby, he helped to raise two kittens and taught the dog appropriate behavior. He was just plain sweet and loving. What I like to call a "buddha cat", seemingly eternally peaceful. He was diagnosed with a heart murmur early on. Unfortunately, it continued to progress. It was just a matter of time.
There I sat when the emergency vet called. He's going into cardiac arrest and the kindest thing to do is emergency euthanasia, she told us. He had gone in a few days before, and bounced back between improving and getting worse. Nobody was sure exactly what was wrong with him, although it undoubtedly had to do with his heart. But now it did not matter.
We all cried. Me, my brother, my mom and it sounded like the vet was getting a little choked up, too. I'm sure she had fallen in love with him just like everybody else.
He was a little over 5 years old. The first cat I had ever lost. The only cat my curmudgeony senior Amber ever bonded with. The cat that charmed everybody he met. Never again would I feel his soft fur, gently scritch his chin, or giggle at him as he would try his hand at acrobatics whilst playing with a feather toy. It just hit me like a brick wall. He was simply gone forever.
http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5255/5489290401_bac68f9b86.jpg (http://www.flickr.com/photos/digbarkrun/5489290401/)
Malibu portrait (http://www.flickr.com/photos/digbarkrun/5489290401/) by seekingsolace (http://www.flickr.com/people/digbarkrun/), on Flickr
July 13, 2009. A small, malnourished and petrified kitten seeking shelter from the frighteningly large world around her, seemingly finds safety in the wheel housing of a car, a somewhat older model Chevrolet Malibu, one of the "abused cars" that my brother likes to take in. When she sees a large man, 6'4 tall, approaching her tiny self, she panics and squeezes into the car engine, only to find herself stuck. The more terrified she becomes, the more she finds herself lodged.
The man, however, has no ill intentions, rather he wants to help. He summons me to assist in the rescue mission, and we soon find it takes more time than we originally expected. Standing directly in the hot July sun, more than likely an 100 degree day, waves radiating off the hot street and sweat dripping heavily from our brows, he finishes in over an hour.
"Clang!", the kitten drops down suddenly, and of all directions she chooses, it's to the porch where I have prepared a carrier. She charges, tiny feet pounding the ground, heart beating tremendously fast. I run after her and I pick her up. I don't think, I just do. I find myself with arms decorated with so many scratches and bites, I'm not sure if I just caught a kitten or a bobcat. I am, however, still satisfied with myself for having wrangled her in spite.
The little kitten is scared of people. She hides in a small box whenever she sees them coming and hisses when they come too close. She scratches and bites when handled. She doesn't want to come out too far when you feed her wet food. She most certainly does not want to be handled. People have captued her, put her in a cage, vets have poked and prodded her. Why would she be anything BUT afraid of them? People have brought her nothing but stress.
I knew that animals don't learn to like people overnight. It's a process. I started to spend more time with her. I moved her into the bathroom, which usually has plenty of traffic going in and out. I started putting her wet food further away from the box. I would wiggle a toy in front of her. Nearly irresistible, she would run out and realize that she had "put herself in danger", and run right back in. It was a process, indeed, but not as long as it could have been. A few weeks and she made a breakthrough. People were OK, she realized. And she never went back.
Heart cat, hopeful therapy cat, show cat. That's what Malibu is today. She is sitting next to me as I write, watching the world go by through the window with her beautiful gem like eyes, one emerald and one sapphire. Her long fluffy tail flicks occasionally and the somewhat harsh artificial light does not do justice to her beautiful ticked coat. She reminds me of a living painting, all the details carefully crafted, from each strand of hair that has two alternating bands of color, to her elegant long fur, to her lovely contrasting eyes. She is the single most beautiful cat I have laid eyes on, and she is mine.
Malibu will never fill the hole in my heart that Tiger left. No one ever can. But I know God gave me Malibu to ease the suffering I felt and the suffering I was going to feel in the rough years that followed. He gave me a most wonderful gift that I will always treasure.
And I find solace in the fact that one day, far from now if God is willing, I will be reunited with them all for the rest of eternity.
(please excuse my grammar, it is not my forte :))