This is a story I wrote after I lost my beloved Marina Mar in November of 2000.
In remembrance of you, my precious little ebony furbaby.
My Little Butterfly
by Donna Ploss.........................................
Marina Mar came into my life the day I began volunteering for an animal rescue organization called CATALES. Marina was born to a feral mother on a boat in a Marina, hence her name. Mar is Spanish for ocean. Marina was 2 weeks old when we rescued her. Hand-fed, she had a very rough beginning. As I hand fed her and looked into her beautiful blue eyes, we bonded instantly. She was tiny, weak and not eating. We had to force feed her in order to fatten her up. As time went by, she went from a cocoon to a beautiful little butterfly. Her fur was long and black with a touch of white on her belly. That was my favorite spot. I took Marina to my vet to be tested for Feline Aids and Feline Leukemia. The vet called me on a Saturday and told me that she tested positive for Feline Leukemia. She asked me when I wanted to euthanize her. I was horrified and confused. I told her I didn’t want to put her down. She was only a baby. Because she tested positive, I didn’t want to bring her home and expose my cats to the Leukemia. I drove to the vet’s office and took my furbaby out of the cage, cradled her and began sobbing. I was so confused. I asked the vet if she could keep her over the weekend so I could think about to do. She said no problem. I went home and cried buckets. I had never had this kind of decision to make before and didn’t know what to do. I called my friend Debi, who was the president of CATALES, to ask her advice. She told me that kittens often test a false positive. Since Marina was only 9 weeks old, she has a suspicion that’s what happened. She told me to go get Marina on Monday and bring her over. Debi was going to take her to another vet and have blood drawn to have a Titer test done. She said that the Titer test takes 3 days much accurate than the snap tests they do in the vet’s office. If this would save my furbaby’s life, that’s what I’d do. It was the longest 3 days of my life, but the good news is, the test came back negative! I went and brought Marina Mar home. I put her in my back bedroom in order to gradually introduce her to my other two cats, Mollie Rose, 6 and Casey, 5. During that time, she developed ringworm and had to stay in my back bedroom for almost 2 months until it cleared up. My daughter and I took turns sleeping in the room with her. By the time the ringworm cleared up, my cats already knew she was around and were used to her scent. Mollie Rose began her surrogate mother role, bathing Marina and sleeping with her. Marina developed into this beautiful, sleek black Turkish Angora mix with a poofy tail, golden eyes and a very distinctive purr all her own. She lived a very normal, healthy life until one day she developed painful scabs on both her ears which caused her to lose the fur on them. I took her to vet after vet. No one could figure out what the problem was. The first vet said it was earmites and treated it topically. The second vet said it could be a food allergy. That misdiagnosis cost me $16 per week for special food. A food allergy it was not. Finally, after almost $300 in vet bills, special foods and medicines with no luck, a woman vet by the name of Jen, a recent graduate of Tufts University, said that it might be Pemphigus Areolas. It is an incurable disease that makes her immune system attack the cells that make new skin. She said the only way to find out is to take a piece of Marina’s ear and send it out to be biopsied. We scheduled the surgery for Thursday. My poor cat was in pain and confused as to why she was being stuck poked and prodded. I felt terrible having to put her through it but needed to find out what it was so that it could be treated. The test results came back and it was confirmed. I read up on the disease a lot. Jen told me that not only had it affected her ears, but it was in her nail beds as well. The disease was routinely treated with steroids. But…steroids could affect Marina’s liver. We decided to try Prednisone, which worked temporarily. Marina was a great cat who didn’t mind having to take a pill twice a day. But after a while, her system became immune to it and the painful scabs came back. Marina was miserable. We gave it one last try and decided on Depo-Medrol shots, a stronger steroid that would last longer than the pills did. She had her first shot and the scabs cleared up. Unfortunately, the medicine did not last as long as we expected and the scabs came back again. Only this time there were more of them and Marina became depressed and listless. My heart ached to see my furbaby in such pain. I then took her to one more vet, an expert in immune problems. He said there was another medicine that we could try that was comparable to kitty chemotherapy. The downside was it would make her terribly sick and there was no guarantee it would work. For two days I agonized over what to do. By that time my veterinary bills were well over $800. Money, although I am not financially well off, I would’ve done anything if the treatment would make her quality of life the way it used to be. But there are no guarantees in life. I realized then that it was time to make a decision. I had Marina Mar in my life for over two and a half years. We had a very special bond that I don’t have with my other cats. I will miss that. The night before she was scheduled to go to the vet, she slept on my chest all night, purring that magnificent purr. I lay in my bed and cried, hugging her and telling her how much I loved her and would miss her. The next morning I drove 30 minutes to the vet with Marina Mar in her carrier looking wide-eyed and meowing. My heart was breaking. The vet was wonderful. He explained everything to me and asked me if I wanted to be with her when he gave her the injection. I said absolutely. This was the first time I ever had to do anything like this in my entire life. There was no way I was going to let her die alone. As I stroked her head and smothered her with kisses, telling her how much I loved her, the vet gave her a sedative to calm her down. She hissed at him in her typical Marina way. This seemed to relax her. I spent about 15 minutes with her saying good-bye, crying so hard that I couldn’t breathe. The vet came in and gave her the final injection. Within seconds it was all over and my precious little butterfly was gone. She’s now at the Rainbow Bridge, where the sun is shining, the birds are singing and she is no longer in pain. She’s prancing with my Dad’s kitty Tigger waiting for me. Be at peace my precious little butterfly. Know that I love you and miss you every single day of my life, and look forward to seeing you again at the Rainbow Bridge. Hugs, Mommy XOXOXOOX
12/02
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