Limes with Orange

Well, I guess I'm finally ready to talk about it...

My cat Tobi was a foundling. She had been born on a farm neighbouring the barn where I kept my horse, but she'd wandered off the farm at far too early an age and eventually ended up living in our hay barn. Some misguided soul tried to catch this feral kitten with his bare hands and she ended up biting him right through his thumbnail. Only then did he worry about rabies (he wasn't the brightest bulb on the tree). So this poor little freaked out kitty had to be caught and quarantined to make sure that she wasn't infected.

I adopted her at the end of the two-week quarantine period. And let me tell you, trying to tame a feral cat in a studio apartment is not so much fun. At first, she wouldn't come near me. She hid during the day and only came out when I was in bed. I had these vertical blinds that she would race through, apparently loving the whap-whap-whap noise they would make. I learned to keep the blinds open to avoid that sound. I had a covered litter box that she thought was a sandbox and she would play in there, seemingly endlessly, apparently loving the sound of the litter against the cover. I stopped covering the litter box. Then, having taken away her other amusements, she decided to watch me while I was sleeping. Apparently, eyelids are quite tantalizing to a kitten when you're in REM sleep. Fortunately, no claws were used in the pouncing on my eyes. I then tried putting Tobi in the bathroom, providing food, water and litter. I just wanted one good night's sleep. Well, that was the night that Tobi discovered she had a voice. And she didn't stop talking to me from that day until the day she died.

Tobi was a special cat. Because of her start, she missed her socialization period and was traumatized during her fear period. This meant that she would never learn to trust people in general, she needed to get to know and trust people one on one. Not easy to do when your cat has chosen to live in the closet. Eventually, she behaved normally with me (as normally as a cat can behave), but she still hid when anyone else came over. People would refer to her as my imaginary cat. One of my vet school classmates crashed on my living room floor one night and actually saw her briefly, but promptly denied it to the rest of the class, feeding into the myth.

I have a million Tobi stories. Like the one where she hunted so methodically for the Q-tip she was playing with that I ended up arguing with my behaviour professor that cats are indeed capable of reason. Or the one and only time that she tried to assert herself, "helping" my new kitten Emma (who had already invaded ALL of Tobi's personal space) fall through the open concept stairs (I picture Tobi rubbing her paws together with glee when she finally saw her chance). But what's freshest in my mind is how her life ended.

When I came home from Inuvik this summer, Tobi was off her food a bit. I wasn't really concerned, though, until she refused her Greenies (pet treats aka "kitty crack"). Then I made an appointment with the vet straight away. The immediate problem was a dental abscess. But blood work for dental surgery showed that she was severely hyperthyroid, although her symptoms were hard to detect since she's always been skinny and vocal… and apparently the dental pain was masking her increased appetite. We started her on thyroid medication and then discovered that she had complications to her heart, liver and kidney (these things sometimes aren't detectable until the hyperthyroidism is under control).

It was the cardiac complications that worried me most. The day after I got back from the imagineNATIVE Film Festival, Tobi threw a small blood clot. Her meow ended in a yelp. I went running to her and found her sitting with her back end flopped on the floor, freaked out. She was trying to walk but her hind legs weren't cooperating. Not paralyzed, but definitely weak. I called the emergency clinic but by the time I was talking to the vet tech, Tobi was walking away as if nothing had happened.

But I went to vet school. I know the dangers of an acute arterial thromboembolism in a hyperthyroid cat. I've seen it first hand. Blood clots become lodged where the aorta divides to supply blood to the rear legs, causing instantaneous and painful paralysis of the hind end. No cat should ever have to go through that. And no cat owner should ever have to witness it. Tobi's embolism was minor, but the fact that she'd had an embolism at all… well, the chances of another clot instantly escalate. I went to the vet the next day and we started her on aspirin to reduce clotting and other medication to reduce her blood pressure.

Nothing helped though. While the tooth abscess had cleared up, she was still in desperate need of a dental surgery. But it was becoming clear that Tobi would never be fit enough to survive any kind of surgery. So, after several months of vet visits, lab tests and medication, I made the hardest decision of my life and euthanized her. I didn't want to wait for that awful embolism. I didn't want her to die in a panicked, painful way. I've never been in a position of having a choice on how and when my pet will die. I thought it would be easier if it was peaceful and at a time of my choosing. But nothing makes it easier. I just keep telling myself that I spared her from something much worse. And I do believe that. In my head. Maybe someday my heart will believe it, too.

But right now... well, she was like a cross between my child and my best friend; she was my constant companion for the last 15 years and I miss her terribly.

Labels: animals