Tekila

- DSH Calico – July 2006 – 16 years.

Tekila came to us via a friend. One of the girls that ran the deli where I work had several kittens. I wanted one of the little Siamese ones, but my son wanted the Calico. She was his cat from the minute I brought her in the door (but then most of them are). In fact, she was really a one-person cat and had little use for anyone else, especially females. She would tolarate my son’s friends but she wanted nothing at all to do with me…..unless I happened to be eating chicken. For some reason, she seemed to believe she could convince me she wanted to be my friend…at least long enough to get a bite.

Tekila had always been a heathy cat but she suddenly started losing weight (and I do mean suddenly) the latter part of June. I took her to the Vet who ran tests and said they could find nothing wrong except a slightly elevated white cell count. She gave us antibiotics to give to her but about three weeks later she lay down for a nap and woke up unable to move her hind legs and crying in pain. It was a Sunday and there was nothing to do but to take her to emergency.
They said it was apparently a fast moving cancer because they could feel nodules everywhere. We could only do for her what we would hope someone would be kind enough to do for us. We will always love her.

Thai Chi

- Chocolate Pt. Siamese – June 2002 – 23 years Old.

Thai Chi was actually my mother’s cat. I saw an ad for her in the newspaper and drove all around Sonoma County (we had just moved here) trying to find the Cattery. She was such a tiny little thing, pure white and timid as h**l. She was also a ‘wedgehead’ as opposed to the ‘appleheads’ we were used to, but she came home with us and was my mother’s constant companion until Mom died in 1988. Then she became mine, sleeping with me each night and following at my heels everywhere I went. When she got to be so old and arthritic she had trouble walking and jumping, I would pick her up and put her wherever she wanted to go. We went through a hot spell in 2002 and it just proved to be too much for her. I believe she had a stroke, and she went to sleep in my arms.

Shasta

Bluepoint Siamese – 1987 – 17 years old

Shasta was my Aunt’s kitty and came to us after her death in 1982. He was a ‘box’ kitty. I took her grocery shopping one day and two little girls had a box of kittens outside the grocery store they were giving away. Her eyes fell on him immediately. I asked the girls if they meant to give away the Siamese too and they said yes. I actually asked them twice because I couldn’t believe they would give away a pure bred Siamese. They said yes, he was free, so we grabbed him and headed home, groceries forgotten. He was quite some personality. He owned my Aunt completely and he never let her forget it. He answered the phone for her, screening her calls but he never learned to hang up the receiver. I would often call her during the day and he would answer. Sometimes I would take her to visit her sister (who didn’t like cats) for the weekend. When we would get back, he would have all the blankets and pillows he could find piled up in front of the front door (essentially packing her bags) and he would pout for several days afterward. (for other stories about this guy, see ‘Cat Tales’). When she died he came to live with me. Finally, at the age of 17, he became so weak and arthritic he could barely stand.
My other aunt (the one who didn’t like cats) waited until I went to work and had him put down, something she had been wanting to do for years.

Tiger

DSH Orange Tabby – 1980 – 6 years old

Tiger was the most loving, empathic cat we have ever had. He was a ‘box kitty’ my son picked out while we were shopping one day. He immediately jumped out of his arms and crawled under some cars and we had almost everyone in the parking lot trying to coax him out. He slept in my son’s bed every night, his head on the pillow. When my son would get sick, Tiger would give him extra loving and would never leave his side. When Tiger was two, he was diagnosed with Urinary Calcifers, a situation where crystals would form in his urine causing blockages. He was hospitalized several times for it. It was, then, an incurable situation. We tried every treatment that was known at the time, the medications, change in diet, etc. With each outbreak, his condition grew worse. Finally, the only thing the vet could suggest was an experimental operation which had no guarantee of success and cost over $7000.00. At that time I had no extra money, I was barely getting by, and my Mother was dying of cancer. I just didn’t have the money, so we had to have him put down. We grieved for a long time over him, especially my son.

Blue

- Russian Blue – 1965 – 2 years old

Blue (his AFC name was “Edie’s Blue Beatle”) was given to me after my marriage and my husband never liked cats. He wouldn’t let Blue stay in the house, so, predictibly, one night Blue didn’t come home. We found him dead on the street. Blue was a beautiful cat with his double-thick plush blue fur and green eyes. After what happened with him, I never had another cat during our marriage which only lasted 7 years. It proves the old adage, ‘how a person treats animals is how they treat people’.

Chan Lei

Sealpoint Siamese – 1963 – 19 years

Chan, who I often referred to as ‘my brother’, was my Father’s cat and the cat I was raised with. My Father had always had a cat or two around, always strays. When I was born and diagnosed with Asthma, the doctors told him that I couldn’t be around cats because their hair would set off an attack. That made Dad sad because he had grown up with animals. Finally, his doctor (not mine) told him that Siamese seemed to have a different kind of hair. My Aunt (Dad’s youngest sister) and her husband bought Chan (for what at that time was an outrageous price of $250.00) for Dad for his birthday. He became Dad’s best friend, going fishing with him and riding in the car with him everywhere, lying across his shoulders. He went on picnics with us and I have pictures of him hunting Easter eggs with me. When Dad died when I was 15, Chan became mine and stayed with me until after my marriage. When he was 19, he was diagnosed with Cancer of the Kidneys. I held him in my arms as he went to join my Dad.

Pedro

- North American Raccoon – 1969 – 17 years

After my Dad couldn’t work any more, he used to go fishing across the bay almost every day. One day he, my cousin, Chan and I went fishing. He and my cousin were walking around and found a dead Raccoon. He could tell that she had just had babies, so he and my cousin went looking for them. I was watching the poles when he walked up to be with a paper bag. The bag made strange sounds and it moved. It contained two tiny Raccoon’s, their eyes still closed. He said he doubted if they would live but we would try. My aunt and I woke up every two hours to feed the little guys and they did live. Even though Pedro was obviously female (lighter mask) , Dad couldn’t talk me out of naming her Pedro. I don’t remember why at this time. She slept with me, curled up on my pillow. She ruled the household, there was no doubt of that. She loved spaghetti and corn on the cob. She also loved Coca Cola and would balance the bottle with her hind feet while she drank. My cousin kept the male, which was named Diablo. Pedro stayed with us and was a community attraction, until she was eight. Laws prohibiting keeping wild animals as pets were just being enacted and although, as a tribal member, my mother was exempt from many wildlife laws, many neighbors became concerned with her presence.

We gave her to the Louise A Boyd Natural Museum in Marin County with the assurance that she would be used in their Wildlife Education Program and would not be destroyed. She clung to my neck with her little hands, crying, when I went to give her up. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I visited her frequently at first and she was always glad to see me. She actually had better living conditions. They built her a huge pen with trees (no Coke or spaghetti though). I began to visit her less frequently at the caretaker’s insistence. She lived to be 17 year old, which is very long for a Raccoon. I haven’t been to the museum for many years now, I don’t even know if it still exists, but the last time I was there they had a plaque in her honor, listing me as her donor and companion.

Gabriel

- North American Bobcat – 1961 – 12 years

Gabriel was a Bobcat that came to live with us when I was about 6 or 7. Dad had found him in a trap and brought him home to nurse him back to health. He was just never inclined to leave. We lived out of town at the time and there were no ordinances against keeping him so it was no problem having him around. I guess he started my love affair with large cats (my current companions are 23lbs and 15lbs respectively). He was a loving boy too… Later on, when my Dad’s health worsened to the point that the altitude made it difficult for him, we were faced with the prospect to moving back to a more populated area and the difficulty of taking Gabriel with us. Gabriel went to live with my cousin on the reservation where he lived to be quite an old guy for a bobcat. He certainly wouldn’t have lived so long as a wild bobcat.