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Sunday, January 13, 2019

Easy Like Sunday

AYLA:  Heres a thing TBT doesnt see often.  I mean, he always puts MY food bowl down on the kitchen floor, but I usually prance to the bedroom ta eat in peace.

I stayed this time.  It was toona, after all.
Marley left some.  Usually Iza runs over ta clean his bowl.
But *I* did this time.  Iza was quite surprised...  Sometimes ya gotta hold yer ground...

  ................

TBT Here:  And we dont want to miss remembering LC's Rainbow Bridge Day.   LC was a very calm cat.  She seldom did any damage, she gladly ate whatever she was given, she was kind to Mean Ole Tinkerbelle, and she was an epitome of litterbox cleanliness.

LC had a hard start.  Some of you know her story from years past, but I will repeat some of it...

Tinkerbelle (at about 6) was mean to Skeeter when I rescued him from a small pet store on Halloween night 1992.  The next year (Halloween Night again), I decided to get him a cat of his own (he so desperately wanted to be friends with Tinkerbelle but she wouldn't allow it).

It was a small pet store and they seemed very kind to the animals.  This time, there were only 2 kittens.  One was gorgeous (brown and black) and very friendly.  I asked for her, but she was just being held for newlyweds on a honeymoon cruise.  The other was a black and white patchy female who hissed and stayed on the far side of the cage.

Well, I hate shopping, so I took her.  $10...

I kept her in the guest room that weekend, visiting often with food and attention.  I sat still on the floor a lot.  She was stand-offish.  That was OK, I never met a cat that didn't come around to me eventually.

The next day, I had to go to work.  When I returned home, I let the new (unnamed) kitten out to explore after I had Tinkerbelle and Skeeter in the bedroom eating (a new spot for them, but then they would follow food anywhere).

I set a bowl out for the new kitten.  To my surprise, she bumped into furniture while trying to find the food!  I picked her up to examine her, and her eyes were shut!  I dampened them with a tissue and she opened them and looked around and I let her eat.

The next morning, her eyes were shut again, so I called the office to say I had a cat problem.  And brought her to my vet.  She had a mite infestation.  So bad that her ears weren't naturally black, it was "mite-stuff".  And the infection they caused created "sleepy-goop" that glued her eyelids shut.

The vet cleaned her ears and eyes and nose and said I should return her to the pet shop.  Yeah right, I was going to do THAT.  Guaranteed euthanasia.  And I said so.

The vet receptionist and bill-producer had heard what I said and she said the kitten's name should be "Lucky Cat".  I took the kitten back home, with medications.

The infection (and I had to get enough to treat Tinkerbelle and Skeeter too, just in case) was solved over a couple weeks.  She was utterly healthy the entire rest of her 16 years.

BTW:  The small pet shop immediately had a vet examine every animal they had for mites and other problems.  They were actually pretty good people.

But there was the question of a name.  Tinkerbelle came with one.  Skeeter got his by staying around me like a mosquito (once he discovered the magic fingers of scritchies).  The new kitten  had black splotches on white fur.  A co-worker reminded me of Elsie The Borden Cow who had splotches.  OK, I later learned that Elsie was brown on white, but the idea was the same.

And there it all was.  The vet receptionist saying Lucky Cat (initials LC), The co-worker mentioning "Elsie" (LC), and I was thinking of her as "Little Cat" (LC).  So her name was "LC"  The letters...

Skeeter was my cat, and LC was intended to be Skeeter's Cat.  He was kind and protective, so I left her to him.  I know that is not usual, that at the time it made sense.  I was getting up at 5 am every weekday to meet a carpool and get to work and getting home at 6 pm.

It was sort of the cats' house and I just stayed there at night, giving them what attention I could.

Skeeter adopted LC immediately and began to defend her from Mean Ole Tinkerbelle.  That's partly why I always want an orange/white male cat around.  Marley is like Skeeter, and I have this odd thought that they are good calm friendly protective cats to other cats.

LC lived a happy life here.  She was always closer to Skeeter than to me, and went outside with him.  They slept together, ate together, and walked around together.

When Skeeter started to fade in 2010, LC showed obvious signs of distress.  When he lost litter-box knowledge, she tried to cover after him.  When he peed on the floor, she called out for help and I always came with a towel.

Then Skeeter went over the Bridge with help.  LC sniffed his body and sat there a while.

She stayed by herself for a few days.  She seemed to sit with Ayla those few days, but I don't think she really felt a connection.  Then, one evening, she came and hopped onto my lap.  That was very rare.  She did that every few days after.  I knew she was searching for a replacement for Skeeter.  Eventually, she took her turn on my lap with Ayla and got along with her very well.

On January 12th, 2010, at night, I heard a noise in the basement.  No great surprise.  Cats knock things over.  But LC didn't show up for breakfast.  I went searching.  I found her under some stuff in the basement.  She was unmoving and didn't respond to poking.  I knew she was dead and went upstairs to cry for her death.

But after, I went to pick her up and she was still limp.  She wasn't dead.  I drove her the the vet and said it was an emergency.  The vet called me 4 hours later saying that she had died in the office.  They had tried everything they could but she stopped breathing.

The cause of death is not known.  Probably a stroke, because the signs in the basement suggested sudden confusion and spasms.  She was over 16.  Skeeter and LC lived almost exactly the same length of years/months.  16 years 6-8 month.

LC was a good cat.  She was not my heart cat because she was Skeeter's heart cat.  That doesn't mean I didn't love her for herself.  She was special to Skeeter.  It's altogether strange to explain.

LC was special to me because she was special to Skeeter and he was special to me.  They are buried near each other with little memorials over the spots.