Neko-Chan, March 31st, 2000~
When life begins, everyone comes out into the cold, cold world naked and totally helpless. If our mother abandons us, we will die, so our only hope is that someone will come along and save us.
Neko-Chan befriended Camus during the Winter, we only caught brief glimpses of the timid little grey and white cat. Spring came, the green, lush grass covered the entire backyard (actually a field with a stream running through it) and the Oregon sky was the kind of blue you could only find in the most remote parts of California. Neko-chan means "little cat child", the "chan" part is an endearing attachment in the Japanese language. Before I knew Neko-chan was a boy, I would call to him, "Neko, Neko!" and leave him a plate of kitty food and a bowl of water beside the cat tree (we have a huge pine tree surrounded by juniper bushs several cats sleep under because it's planted on upraised ground, and therefore less drafty). It took him a week to get used to me bringing him food, and another week to let him approach him and actually let me touch him. Neko-chan only looked to be a few months old, he was barely five pounds, and he seemed very sick. He had forgotten what it was like to be pet by a human, and it took him another week to become used to being pet and actually enjoy it.
Neko-chan was very sick, however, when I pet him he would hunch over and seem to be trying to cough up a hairball when he started to purr. "Krrreeeeeh-keh, Kreeeeeh-keh-keh", he sounded like a car trying to turn it's engine over and then coughing at the end. And he would shake so badly, and his little green, crossed eyes would bulge out, and all I could do was pet him. I prayed he didn't have Feline Leukemia. The boys came out and pet him before the went to school, and when they came back, and they agreed to help pay for food and vet bills if I took him in and got him examined to make sure he was okay...
Neko-chan cried when I put him into the car in the carrier, he was scared, but he trusted me and I stuck my fingers through the holes to comfort him. The vet looked him over, and I explained the strange sounds he had been making--and the vet informed me that he wasn't six months old, he was full-grown! He was tiny. Neko-chan started to purr-cough out of fear, and the doctor shook his head and suggested a Feline leukemia test, I just held Neko-chan and prayed, and comforted him, and Dan, who had driven me there because Brushie was at school, just waited with me and pet Neko.
Neko-chan's test came back positive, and I was wrought with sadness and despair--I didn't want Neko-chan to die. He was so sickly, I couldn't stand to see him suffer so badly as the sickness in him devoured his poor little body till he was nothing more than a quivering shell...So, that day, we put Neko-chan to sleep, and I held his little paw and stroked his panicked little face as the doctor administered the shot. I watched the light in his eyes grow dimmer and dimmer, until it went out forever--I wanted to see that light again, I had seen my Kristofur die this way before, the spirit left so quickly, it was like grasping at straws.
I took Neko-chan home in the cat box, the vets reduced the price of euthinasia because I was taking his body home and the wouldn't have to dispose of him/sell his body to the local pet food distributer (see my kitties.html page for information on this sick trade). I left him outside the front door while I cried in Brushie's arms. I didn't have a shovel, so I went from apartment to apartment asking the neighbours for one. With a handheld gardening spade and a little claw looking object, me and Brushie descended with the sun to the opposite side of the same lush valley Camus and Neko-chan used to play in. We dug till the sun was down, and it was getting very dark, under the biggest oak tree beside the stream. I picked flowers and lay them into the grave before I lay Neko-chan down and positioned him so he looked as if he were sleeping peacefully. We covered him and we managed to carry one of the 50 lb boulders at the bridge over him so the coyotes couldn't dig him up. I lay more flowers atop the rock, and we went home...
It wasn't fair, he had just come to me, only to have him slip through my fingers...I wanted to save him and give him the happy life he truly deserved...I try to think that I gave him a merciful release from his sickness and pain, I try to stay positive, but it's so sad. If only someone before me had cared, he wouldn't be dead, he wouldn't be gone, he would be sitting in a windowsill somewhere watching birds catching worms on the lawn. Happy and warm, loved, like all animals deserve. I try to remind people to get their animals vaccinated and tested now, try to inform them of the dangers of their cats being outside, exposed to all kinds of dangerous animals, objects, and sicknesses...but some of them just won't listen...Are their hearts as deaf as their ears? Will it take an incident like Neko-chan to make them realize prevention is as simple as one shot, or one test? Or as easy as never letting their cat get outside to begin with?
Silkie, May sometime, 2000~
The month after Neko-chan passed away I had just stopped crying for some two weeks. It was cold and raining outside, as it does often in Oregon during spring. I heard my neighbours car honking it's horn and the owner screaming at someone. I'm nosey, so I poked my head out my curtain and peeked down at whoever he was yelling at. The soggy black dog screamed as it dodged the bumper as the car sped off into the road. It hobbled off to the graveled portion of the parking lot and I grabbed my coat and ran down the stairs and out the door to see if it was okay. I called to it, "Here puppie! Puppie puppie!" She was apprehensive, would I try to run her over, or hurt her too? I patted my thighs and raised my voice to make a friendly, mommy-type tone that makes babies and animals less afraid, and she came to me wagging her tail.
I called her Silkie, because if she had been clean she would have been very soft and nice to touch. She looked like Bear-Bear, like a sheepdog, except she was all black, and covered in matted fur that ranged from softball size to volleyball size. I put her in the downstairs bathroom and herded the cats upstairs into our room. I brought her out and gave her food while I cut most of the mats out and brushed her. She had been outside so long, any Lost ads would have been taken off long ago, but I dug through my newspaper recycling area and checked for them...No one was missing a black dog, I was disenheartened. I couldn't keep her here in the apartment or else I would risk being evicted. I dried her off and put lotion on her cracked paws, talked to her and pet her. She had the most soulful brown eyes, so much like Bear-bear's it made me cry to think of how much I missed him and he missed me.
Dan came home and after we played with Silkie a bit more, he took us around to the various vet offices and posted LOST notes on their bulletin boards. The last stop was the local (in)Humane Society, which I knew would be the very last stop for Silkie...They gave me two options: I would surrender Silkie to them, she would be held for 3 days in case someone claimed her, and if not, she would be put up for public adoption--and then destroyed if no one claimed her in a week; or, I could keep her at my home and post signs and ads in papers for 21 straight days. I started crying, people don't want old dogs like Silkie, they want cute little puppies or healthy, younger dogs. Silkie was sentenced to death that day, but I couldn't keep her in the apartment, I didn't want to leave her. The employees were cold, and they stared at me unsympathetically as they ignored me after a while and went back to their paperwork. One of the workers gave me her collar, and as she was lead away on the thin braided rope, she looked back over her shoulder at me and wagged her tail with so much hope and love in her soulful brown eyes.
The only things I have left of her now are her black, dirty collar and the final image of her being lead away, which will always be burned into the back of my heart...
