NIMBUS
In late June Mama and I got called to the south side of Malden because a friend of hers had this little guy running around outside her place. She couldn't take him due to her children's allergies, so we volunteered. This is what we got.
He reminded me of rain clouds, so I christened the new arrival Nimbus. He had a cold and fleas, thus the crud on his face. I was terrified that his eyes would get infected like Pebbles' did, but mercifully, they didn't. Nimbus settled in, was fed, vetted, and de-fleaed. He ate like a horse and cleaned up well.
Nimbus had a big mouth and a big purr, and he was affectionate and mischievous. Then one Saturday in late July I got up to feed him and found him limp, minimally responsive, and cold to the touch. His heart rate was low. We rushed him to the vet, but even after a battery of tests Dr. Kyle had no idea what was wrong with him. Nimbus survived Saturday and Sunday, but died early Monday morning. Dr. Kyle STILL has no clue what caused his illness.
PUNKIN
We scalded Nimbus's cage and litter box, and we washed his blanket in anticipation of a new arrival. Sure enough, yesterday another friend of ours came up with this.
I think I should point out right now that I've wanted a tortoiseshell cat ever since I was a little girl. This little fur baby was quite obviously a tortoiseshell cat, and she even had extra toes! She lived in someone's back yard and had a ton of fleas. Miss Cindy is an animal rescuer herself, and she took this kitten in for three days to nurse her. She had trouble getting her to eat, but she had a superb little personality. After the three days had passed, Mama gave in to my begging and we went to fetch our new little bundle of joy.
I named her Punkin, and I cuddled with her all last night. Like Nimbus, she had a big meow and a big purr, and she loved to be cuddled. Her favorite spot was up on my shoulder. I had a terrible time getting her to eat her own food, but she had no trouble getting into my ice cream! I know that kittens are not supposed to have milk products, but she begged so strongly that I figured a little swallow of ice cream couldn't hurt.
I'm glad I did give her that ice cream now, because Punkin died today. We were going to take her to the vet anyway to get her shots, but when I went to the cage it was Nimbus's story all over again. Punkin was more active than Nimbus was at the end, but she couldn't walk, and she flatly refused to eat. Dr. Kyle is away on vacation, so a gentleman named Dr. McCoy saw Punkin instead. As soon as he saw her, he said "I know what this is, it's flea anemia." He explained that Punkin would not survive without a blood transfusion, and due to complexities involved in cat blood transfusions, a procedure was not possible unless we saw a specialist. Dr. McCoy then gently told me that the most humane option would be to put Punkin to sleep, so that's what I chose. My perfect little tortoiseshell cat with extra toes crossed the Rainbow Bridge at eleven this morning.
It saddens me to lose pets, and it's particularly hard when they're so young like Nimbus and Punkin were. However, I take solace in the fact that Jesus has two furry little playmates, and in our surviving cats, all of whom are perfectly healthy. Plus, the shelters are full of pretty little tortoiseshells, fuzzy little grays, and whimsy little polydactl cats, so if I so choose, I can pick out a lookalike!
