Thursday, June 4, 2009

Your Never Too Old to Cry for Your Cat

I lost a great friend today. My cat of 6 years was struck by a car and killed. I am so sad, and yet I can't help but smile through my tears when I think of all the happiness that cat brought me. Patrick came into my life one warm sunny spring day in the hands of my younger brother. I was working in the kitchen when through the open window I heard my 11 year old brother calling my name loudly as he ran toward the house. I came out to see what all the ruckus was about, when he slid to a stop in front of me with his hands out in front of him. Inside those cupped hands was a tiny tiger striped kitten all fluffy and orangey-yellow. He was so new that his eyes were still fused shut and his tiny head still wiggled and bobbed when he tried to lift it. Patrick had been left or had scooted himself into a tool bucket in my parents barn and had become stuck. My brother was playing near the barn and heard the tiny cries coming from the bucket and investigated. So then the next step was to get help and that is where I came in. Nathan brought me this tiny little thing and said,"please save him, he has no momma!". I put my new baby in a little box of warm soft towels and started my research. I called my vet and poked around online for tips on how to care for a newborn kitten. I made a mad dash to Wal-mart to get tiny kitten bottles and milk replacer. When I arrived home I discovered that the nipples designed for newborn kittens were still too much of a mouthful for My newborn kitten. So, I rummaged around and found a tiny medicine dropper in a junk drawer and I fed my little Patrick his warmed milk every two hours a drop at a time.
Caring for Patrick was like having a baby all over again. I had the late night feedings, and then I had to massage his belly to get the air out. Kept him near my bed with a heat lamp nearby to keep him warm. When I went to work he stayed in a little box under the desk in my office. It was alot of work taking care of him, but I didn't mind, I was completely in love.
Over time Patrick grew from a tiny kitten to a huge yellow and orange striped tiger of a cat. He was regal and majestic; he ruled like a farm version of the king of beasts. He would hunt and stalk and dolefully watch his subjects from his perch on the front step but he was still my baby. Patrick was a prolific hunter and he loved to hunt in the woods across the road from my parents' farm. He had been living with my parents while I was saving up to have him de-clawed so that he could live in my apartment with the kids and I. He was a very large cat and I wanted to give the kids and our very small dog a fighting chance. The daily trek across the road would be Patrick's downfall. My wonderful father found him shortly after the accident and buried him next to my other companion Patches who I had since childhood and lost to kidney disease. I was so grateful to my Dad for taking the extra time and care, for knowing what it would mean to me. My mother came all the way to Springfield to tell me and held me while I cried out my grief over the loss of my sweet pet. I know to some this would seem silly, but Patrick was no ordinary cat. Patrick was a big part of my family, and his loss is felt strongly by every one of us. So here is to pets, friends, confidantes, companions.

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