Some Thoughts about Sosha's Last Day

Today my friend Michelle posted on Facebook that she was having to put her 12 year old cat Sosha to sleep. I posted some encouraging thoughts as a reply. She responded that she was having to wait till 4pm to take Sosha in for her final vet visit and it was hard because Sosha was getting worse by the hour. She went on to post "I wish pets could live longer than they do. I always say, NO MORE, then a stray comes along, or an abused pet, and I take them home. I wish I could own a humane society of my own."

For me, these thoughts of Michelle's illustrate how God's gift of compassion works. Michelle could have put her own emotional needs first by making herself absent from Sosha's last day. Michelle could have taken Sosha to animal control or some vet's office and left her there to be euthanized, thus protecting herself from the pain of that final good-bye. Many people go this route because they simply don't have the emotional fortitude to witness the death of their pet. While this saddens me, I understand that not everyone has the gift of compassion that compels them to be nowhere else but with their pet during those final moments.

Obviously I am of this latter sort. I have been with all my little ones when it came time to send them back home to the loving Father who made them; I would have it no other way. The Lord has charged us with taking care of our fellow creatures with whom we share Creation. I feel that we would be remiss to do so for all but their final day. Most people hope to die peacefully in bed, surrounded by their loved ones. Our pets can't express their wishes to us, but I doubt that their wish is to die abandoned and alone in a strange place rather than with those who have loved and cared for them their whole lives.

In once sense Michelle expressed this desire to be emotionally shielded when she talked about bringing home NO MORE pets. But, like me, she will answer compassion's call when that next stray or abused animal comes along looking for a home. And where do these stray and abused animals come from? From someone who declared "no more!" and abused, abandoned or neglected that pet in the first place. For my part, I declare back "no more!" to abandoning pets for our own convenience, to abusing the innocent, to behaving as if the world revolves around us and there are no consequences for our actions. Finally, I declare "no more!" to justifying it all by saying "it's just a cat, who cares?"

Michelle cares, she's at the vet with Sosha as I write this. I care, that's why I'm writing this in the first place. God cares most of all: He's the one who has to watch those He made in His own image treating the rest of His creation like it's disposable: use as needed then throw away when convenient.

Most people probably won't see this story of a friend putting her cat to sleep as I have seen it. But maybe by reading this it's given you pause to think about our culture's--and your own--attitude toward animals. I hope it does; that's what makes me the Christian Cat Guy.

Empathizing with a blind cat

Those who know me would most likely not be surprised with me empathizing with a blind cat.  But I'm learning that the actual mechanics of that maybe aren't as simple as one might think.

Greta is a foster cat.  She is completely blind.  She is a victim of animal hoarding.  The brownish-yellow stains you see on her front legs are from years and years of living with urine soil on her coat.  Her right eye is basically a shriveled raisin; her left eye is damaged and sightless so far as we can tell.  These injuries are the result untreated viral infections, ulcerations or who knows what.  Since she came to foster with us she has gained weight and cleaned up; her coat is soft and her eyes are no longer crusty (though there is always some discharge from them). 

So what do you do with a blind foster cat?  Well, I've been keeping her in her own kennel in the garage as I do initially with all fosters while their parasites die and their digestive systems adjust to the offered fare of the Ottocat household.  So after all that necessary stuff happened there she'd sit, blind, in her quiet kennel, sitting, all blind and sitting there . . . .

So yeah, what do you do with a blind foster cat?  I mean, she can't observe her environment while she sits there all day.  I'm sure her hearing is fairly acute to make up for her loss of sight, but I don't know that the sounds audible from my garage provide a day's worth of entertainment for a blind cat.  So I began bringing her inside in the evenings to sit on my lap while I sat at the computer.  She is very loving and affectionate and enjoys our evening time together.  This past weekend I decided it was time for her to explore on her own, with my supervision of course; the Ottocats, I knew, would not be beside themselves with joy to find some strange cat--which so far as they knew had just dropped out of the sky--walking around in their house.  Greta, surprisingly, was likewise not fond of contact with them.  Given the hoarding situation she'd lived in for who knows how many years one would assume that she'd be used to other cats.  And that she may be, but the Ottocats aren't the cats that she's been used to I suppose, so she would hiss and swat at anyone that made contact with her.  I'm sure that part of this behavior is stress-related--it can't be all fun and laughter learning to navigate a new house as the (sighted) resident cats run to or from you, depending on their level of fear or curiosity.

Greta spent most of the day Saturday in the house.  In the mid afternoon I began to worry that perhaps she needed to potty and didn't know where the litter boxes are.  Eventually she meandered over that way, so I lifted her front paws up and placed them on the lip of the box (which is actually one of those 18 gallon Rubbermaid totes you store your holiday decorations in during the off season).  After touching her paws to the lip of the tote so she would know how tall it is, I lifted her into it and set her on the litter.  She immediately did her business and then carefully if not skillfully jumped up to the lip of the tote and carefully eased herself back onto the floor. 

I was thrilled with her success and expressed as much.  My wife pointed out that I seemed "quite delighted" with our little, blind charge.  "Well," I confessed, "I'm trying to make things easy for her while still letting her learn for herself.  I've never been a cat and I've never been blind, so I'm kinda making this up as I go and hoping it works!"

Indeed:  never been a cat, never been blind but nevertheless empathizing with this little, blind girl who is exploring her new lease on life which includes a clean home, a loving foster family, enough to eat and medical care.  Most people wouldn't give a urine stained, blind cat a second thought.  But, I'm not most people:  I'm the Christian Cat Guy.