Another One Bites the Dust

In 1999, when I was relatively new to the feral cat “community” and Trap/Neuter/Return I answered a call from a very nice woman who needed help trapping a litter of 8 – 10 week old feral kittens.  She had managed to trap the mother cat and her semi-grown kittens from a previous litter and get them all fixed through Orange County’s CARE program.  In 1999 I had recently become the president of CARE and we did not normally go out and do the trapping.  She was a very sweet woman and desperately worried that the homeowner’s association would call either animal control or critter control and the kittens along with the ones she had already fixed (and bonded with) would be trapped and killed.  I talked at a meeting of the homeowner’s association and convinced them to hold off on trapping, explaining that CARE worked in partnership with Orange County Animal Services to trap, alter and vaccinate cats.  My intention was to trap the kittens and return them “to the wild.”  

I only managed to catch one kitten on my first attempt.  She was absolutely beautiful, but completely wild.  Being a novice I felt she was too old to try to tame/socialize her.  So, once she was spayed and recovered, I returned her.  She died within 2 days, which devastated me.  I decided once I trapped the rest (actually 4 remaining littermates and 2 from the litter of another female), I would make every effort to socialize them and find homes for them, although CARE did not do adoptions.  I felt I had enough contacts in the rescue community that I could easily find a group who would handle the adoptions.  I was ridiculously lucky, trapping all 6 kittens at once, something I never managed to do again in the following 8 years of trapping expeditions.  

After dropping the little ones off at the clinic in the morning, I saw a kitten blithely walking across a normally very busy road as I was driving home.  Of course, I stopped and picked him up and took him home.  He was about the same age as the kittens, but he was the friendliest kitten I had ever seen.  He cuddled on my chest and purred all the way home.  

Within two days of bringing the 6 kittens home, I noticed one of them (Chaz) had a beard of bubbles on his chin.  I called my veterinarian and she told me to come in the next morning with all of the kittens because, at least, Chaz had calicivirus, which was/is highly contagious.  No doubt they had contracted it at the animal services clinic and that is probably what caused their sister’s death.  Charlise, Chaz’ sister was the only one in the 2 litters who got sick, seriously sick.  However, Clark, the sweet boy I picked up off the street, got deathly ill as well, along with one of my adult cats, Catherine.  All were bundled off to the veterinary clinic, where both Charlise and Catherine spent 2 weeks for treatment and force-feeding.  Clark was the sickest and spent a month at the vet’s office before he began eating on his own.  Whew – we had dodged a bullet.  It is always dreadful to lose one of my animals, but losing kittens is the worst by far for me.  As of tonight, Charlise is the last of this little family of kittens/cats.

CISCO

I lost Cisco suddenly on February 16, 2008.  I had taken him to my vet because the nictitating membranes (third eyelid) in both of his eyes were partially up.  He had no other signs of illness.  He hadn’t lost weight, he was eating, so I didn’t suspect there was anything seriously wrong.  Within 2 or 3 days, he had died.  The vet suspected either liver or pancreatic cancer.  

Darling Clark, the kitten rescued from the 6 lane highway died, after a long wasting, undiagnosed illness, on February 25, 2010.  He had grown into a Velcro cat.  He would leap through the air, almost like a bird, to be in my arms.  He would leap from the floor, from a countertop, the bed or the arm of a chair, flying into my arms without scratching me or digging in with his claws.  Turning my back did not do any good in dissuading him from his goal, so there were many times he would end up on my back, much like a living backpack.  

CHAZ

Chaz first developed plasma cell stomatitis, a common result of having had calicivirus in early 2008.   I had most of his teeth removed in April, 2008.  He was fine for awhile.  By the end of 2010 it was obvious he had a problem with one of his ears.  Cordelia, one of my dogs, would continuously clean Chaz’ ear, while Chaz would lie there seeming to enjoy the cleaning, grooming process.  I took Chaz to my vet and she found that he had a cancerous, inoperable tumor in his ear.  His health deteriorated and I had to have him euthanized on February 12, 2011.  

CHARLIE

As Chaz was going through his illness, his brother Charlie, another sweet, extremely affectionate boy began losing weight much like Clark   He would lose weight, and then seem to recover and start putting some of the weight back on he had lost for a period, and then start losing weight again.  I took him to the vet on numerous occasions, had tests run again and again to no avail  X-rays, blood tests, nothing revealed what was causing the weight loss.  I had to force feed him from time to time, as well as give him sub-cutaneous fluids to keep him hydrated.  Finally, it became obvious that he wasn’t going to recover and his weight loss was decimating him.   I had often brought him to work with me, and everyone on staff fell in love with him.  He was happiest in someone’s arms.  I let him go and had him put down on June 14^th, 2011.  

At that point, I had only 3 cats of the original 6 remaining.  Of those one had never become tame, Chandler.  Over the years, I had only managed to get a quick “pet” of him while he was eating.  Generally, If I got within about 3 feet of him, he would hiss and take off.  Courtney, one of Chaz’ and Charlie’s sisters who was among the three, had remained feral for the first year after joining my herd of cats.  Then, surprisingly, she lay on the edge of the bed, rolled onto her back and looked up at me, asking for a belly rub.  At the top of my can’t resist list is a kitty tummy.  Regardless of the potential danger, the soft fur of a kitty tummy is totally irresistible to me. From that moment on, I could pet her and love on her and she never failed to offer me her tummy for a rub.  

COURTNEY

Courtney developed a snuffing noise during the time I was dealing with other seriously ill cats.  I assumed it was an upper respiratory problem, so I used a vaporizer to try to clear it up.  I tried a nebulizer, but neither did any good.  I took her to the vet, who insisted it was, in fact, an upper respiratory illness despite my insistence that wasn’t the problem.  In late 2011 she spent a week at the vet’s office, but she continued snuffling when I took her home.  I did some research on the internet, the vet did x-rays because I was certain she had a nasal tumor.  I ended up taking her to the area veterinary specialists, where they did a CAT scan.  Unfortunately, I was right.  She has nasopharyngeal carcinoma.   It was an inoperable, fatal condition.  She was fine for a while, but one morning she started having seizures.  I rushed her to the vet and had her euthanized.  That was on January 12, 2012.  

About a month or two after losing Courtney, Chandler began losing weight, much like Clark and Charlie had done.  After visiting two different vets, both of whom failed to diagnose either Clark’s or Charlie’s conditions, I saw no need to go through the frustration and enormous costs just to be told either “don’t know” or “can’t treat”. Chandler continued to eat, quite a bit, being the first cat with his head in a bowl of food.  As he continued to lose weight, I called my vet’s office to alert them that I would be dropping him off, explaining he was feral and would have to be sedated to be examined.  The problem?  I couldn’t catch him.  After making several attempts, I gave up.  Then one day, to my great surprise, he allowed me to pet him.  Within a week or two, he allowed me to pick him up, and even carry him around.  I took him into the vet and she postulated, due to feeling a mass in his abdominal region that he either had a kidney tumor or one in his spleen.  By this time he had lost a considerable amount of weight and certainly could not withstand a major surgery.  

CHANDLER

I refuse to sanction surgeries to remove tumors, especially internal ones.  Every time I’ve had that done to other dogs or cats, the cancer spread like wild fire throughout their bodies.  I had put Cricket through 5 surgeries for mammary cancer, many years before.  After the 5^th surgery, the tumors returned within 2 days.  The vet suggested subcutaneous fluids daily for Chandler after giving him an antibiotic injection. He lasted 2 weeks.  Although he ate a small amount yesterday morning before I left for work, and the fact that I knew his remaining time was very limited, I chose not to take him to the vet on Thursday to have him euthanized.  I wasn’t ready to give up and he didn’t seem to be ready either.  However, when I got home from work, it was obvious that it was time. He’d spent the day in a carrier.  When I first looked at him, lying with his head in a awkward, unnatural position, I feared he had died while I was at work.  He was alive but terribly weak, so I arranged to bring him to the vet in the morning.  It became obvious within the hour that he probably wouldn’t last the night.  He was uncomfortable and probably in pain. I took him to the nearest emergency clinic and had him euthanized.  At least, after 13 years of longing to touch him, pet him and hold him, I had the opportunity to do that for the final weeks of his life.  It was a special gift he gave me in the end that I will always treasure.  To hear him purr for me when I petted him and hold him was a reward that I shall always cherish.  

Little, petite Charlise, stunted by her early illness, remains the last of the group of kittens saved from a shorter, more difficult life on their own.  May she live many, many more years.  

CHARLISE

Hopelessness?

Where once there seemed to be a bright, shining future now all seems dark.  This past week has been one of an inordinate amount of bad, sad, gloomy news.  

 First three icons have died.  Dick Clark’s death was the first announced.  American Bandstand lives in such fond memories of my childhood.  Not all of the new dances those kids in Philadelphia introduced on the show were all that easy for me to pick up.  My father, on the other hand, was a great dancer.  Not in the professional sense, but when he and my mother were young they used to go dancing to all of the Big Bands before “the War”, which was WWII.  I remember my dad teaching me how to do the stroll.  And then there were all of the stars Dick Clark brought on the show.  I fell head over heels in love with Frankie Avalon, Fabian and my personal favorite, James Darren.  Yeah, I really loved those Italian boys.  SWOON!

Next was Levon Helm, drummer and singer for The Band.  I really wasn’t a big fan of The Band, although I liked several of their most popular songs.  Way back when, I had purchased their Rock of Ages album.  I played it once and never played it again.  A few years ago I gave it to a young friend, who is a Bob Dylan devotee (not my taste) because I figured she would enjoy it. 

 

 

And then yesterday the death of Jonathan Frid was announced.  My mom always said, “they come in threes” when a celebrity death was first announced.  True?  I don’t know.  When you are looking for a pattern, you usually notice one.  Dark Shadows, after so many years, is back in the news because of the impending premiere of the Johnny Depp/Tim Burton movie release.  It is a remake of the late 60s, early 70s afternoon ABC Gothic soap opera of my youth.  I was mad crazy for Jonathan Frid’s vampire, Barnabas Collins.  Dark, brooding, troubled, sensitive and sad – what young girl wouldn’t fall in love?  If you read any of the tributes on the web or in the newspapers, apparently LOTS of young girls did fall in love with Frid/Barnabas and carried that flaming torch throughout their lives.  While it hadn’t occurred to me before reading the posts, many suggested that the character of Barnabas Collins ushered in a new type of vampire, leading the way for Louis from Interview With the Vampire, Angel (oh,my) of Buffy The Vampire Slayer (personally I’m a Spike aficionado) and Edward Cullen of The Twilight series.  I think the authors are correct.  Jonathan Frid’s portrayal of the vampire Barnabas Collins was a new perspective on the age old monsters that previously had only terrified us.  They became romantic figures.

Adding to these sad reports, April 20^th was the second anniversary of the explosion of the Deepwater Horizon oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico.  Contrary to Oh, Happy Day! Commercials on TV, all is far from well in the Gulf of Mexico and the states which border it.  The dolphin and turtle deaths on the coasts have seen record numbers.  The nesting sites of most sea birds are either in decline or absent.  Deformed shrimp, fish and crabs are being caught in the Gulf waters.  The people aren’t doing well either, experiencing many health problems.  To read a compilation of the many stories, check out this link:  http://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2012/04/guest-post-the-gulf-ecosystem-is-being-decimated.html  

As if that wasn’t enough to drag me to the depths over concern over the very survival of our planet and amazing wildlife who share it with us, I listened to Science Friday on Talk of the Nation.  You can listen to it here:  http://www.npr.org/2012/04/20/151047262/exploring-the-deepest-darkest-spots-on-earth   Hope, maybe.  Optimism, not much.

 

The final thing that brought me to full fledged tears this morning was totally unexpected.  I went on an Amazon buying spree about 2 weeks ago after listening to Terry Gross’ interview with Carole King (give it a listen here:

http://www.npr.org/2012/04/11/150418594/for-carole-king-songwriting-is-a-natural-talent ) .

Maybe I should listen to it again, because it was wonderful, delightful and just made me smile.  But, I digress.  One of the things I bought was The Definitive John Denver Greatest Hits.  Denver, the epitome of sunshine, rainbows and roses, right?  Well, I couldn’t wait for my absolute favorite John Denver song of all time to come on.  Calypso, a song he wrote because of his trip with Jacques Cousteau (the man who opened the world’s eyes to the wonders of the world’s oceans and marine life) onboard Cousteau’s ship, Calypso.  The ocean, John Denver and Jacques Cousteau, two of which are dead and the other dying at the hands of humans, not exactly where I had expected the song to take me.  So instead of feeling transported and uplifted, it was more like a stake in the heart.  The tears just flowed. 

Earth Day, the 42^nd anniversary, is April 22^nd.  Has ANYONE been listening?  Right now, it certainly doesn’t seem like it.  It isn't just about US or our needs and our greed  - it is about ALL life on Earth.  

The future is up to you and me.

Goodbye

Well, I have lost two more of my fur babies, Courtney and Cordelia.  Obviously, it’s been a tough year and a half.  So many of my animals came into my home within a about a two year span of time.  I brought them in without a thought to the extra burden and cost of increasing the size of my herd.  To me, it was a matter of life and death for them and I simply couldn’t turn away. 

I euthanized Courtney on January 12^th.  She had been given a diagnosis in December that limited how long she would survive.  Because of all of the ones that proceeded her, I didn’t take her to the vet when she started breathing noisily.  I initially thought it was an upper respiratory infection.  I used my go to remedy, the Vicks vaporizer.  It didn’t work.  She wasn’t sneezing, her eyes and nose weren’t runny.  Deep down I knew it was something else, something that I hadn’t encountered previously.  I took her to my vet and she was diagnosed with upper respiratory and given clavamox.  I told the vet I didn’t feel it was an upper respiratory infection, but that was the diagnosis.  I took her back a few week s later, having only succeeded in getting one dose down her.  She spent about a week at the vet’s office, being treated for a bad eye infection that was the result of her nasal area becoming seriously swollen.  She was also treated for an upper respiratory infection.  When I brought her home, the swelling had decreased a bit, her eye was better but the “snurfling/snoring” sound that had originally alerted me that there was a problem.  In a few weeks I took her to a specialist.  She was given a “CAT scan.”  The diagnosis was what I had expected all along – nasopharyngeal cancer.  There was nothing that could be done.  Since she was still eating, I took her home.  That was on December 29^th.  On January 12^th, she had seizures and I rushed her to my vet to put her down.  No doubt that the cancer had reached her brain and caused her seizures.  

 Courtney came into my life when I trapped her and her littermates, Chaz, Charlie and Charlise.  Her littermates tamed up pretty quickly and became little love muffins.  Courtney just wouldn’t come around.  I was pretty new to taming feral kittens and I didn’t always succeed.  I kept these kittens instead of taking them back to where they were trapped because I had trapped another sister earlier.  I got her spayed and returned her.  She died within a week.  I felt horribly guilty and didn’t want the same fate for these little ones.  When Chaz came down with something soon after I had fixed the entire litter, I took them to my vet.  The diagnosis was calicivirus.  Little did I know the far reaching effects of this disease.  After about a year, Courtney surprised me one day by rolling over on the bed and exposing her belly.  There is nothing more tempting to me than the soft tummy of a kitty.  She let me rub her belly, her soft, soft fur.  With no further ado, she was tame and for the rest of her life truly loved being petted and stroked.  She never became fond of being picked up and held, however.  In the last weeks of her life, however, she came to tolerate my holding her and seemed somewhat comforted by it.  Courtney would have been 13 this year. 

Cordelia crossed my path in 1998.  I was driving home from the hospital, having spent the night in the Sleep Disorder Clinic.  I was diagnosed with sleep apnea, having had electrodes stuck to my head.  As I drove down Orange Avenue I saw two dogs simply nonchalantly walking down the sidewalk.  It was around 7 AM and I knew traffic would pick up dramatically within an hour.  Cordelia was a tiny puppy, probably no more than 4 or 5 months old.  With her was a large dog who was marked like a Rottweiler but had long curly hair like a cocker spaniel.  He had a long linked chain that trailing behind him.  Needless to say, I pulled over and opened up the back of my Jeep.  I stepped on the chain to keep the larger dog from bolting and grabbed the puppy.  I put her in my car and she walked from the back to the front passenger seat and curled up on the pillow I had taken with me to the sleep clinic.  I picked up the other dog and put him in the car as well.  I already had two other dogs that I had rescued earlier at home.  We headed home and both dogs just chilled out as I drove.  Neither dog had any identification.  I tried to find the owner, placing an ad in the Found Classifieds in the paper, calling area vets and even talking to kids who lived in the neighborhood where I picked up both dogs.  No luck.  I felt certain that I could talk one of the rescue groups in Orlando to take them and find homes for them.  However, the large dog that I named Cuinn developed a cough.  When I took him to the vet, he was diagnosed with heartworms.  By the time I paid for his treatment and nursed him through it, I realized Cuinn was staying with me.  He and the puppy, whom I named Cordelia, were so bonded that I couldn’t stand the thought of separating them.  

This is Celia on the left & Cordelia on the right

  

Cordelia was named for a character in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  That character was my least favorite character.  She was arrogant, nasty and downright mean.  My Cordelia had none of those characteristics, but she was a little devil dog.  She would constantly find a way to escape from the fence around the backyard.  And, it wasn’t just her.  She managed to bring everyone with her – Celie, Cuinn and even Caleb sometimes.  I live less than a block off Orange Avenue, which has really heavy traffic nearly 24/7.  Because she was an amazing escape artist, I decided to take her and her partner in crime, Celie, to obedience classes.  Cordelia was the best pupil.  She was the first to succeed at each training exercise.  I have had many dogs throughout my life who had varying degrees of intelligence, but Cordelia was, by far, the smartest dog I have ever known.  She outsmarted more times than I’d like to admit.  I don’t know her heritage, but it was pretty clear that she had pit bull in her.  Pitties have such a bad reputation.  Judging from Cordelia, that reputation is not deserved.  She loved everyone she met, she would take treats from me so gently and she was also gentle with the cats, often cleaning their ears or letting them groom her.  She was also one the silliest, goofiest dogs I’ve ever had.

Cordelia was diagnosed with lymphoma in November.  Unfortunately there was no way to treat this –neither surgery nor cancer treatment.  I had noticed lumps at the base of her lower jaw.  The vet found other masses in the other lymph nodes in her body.  We put her on pain meds and steroids, which helped somewhat.  In the last month it was obvious that she was going downhill.  Her energy level had diminished greatly and she wouldn’t finish her food each night.  The one thing she did look forward to was cleaning the cat bowls at dinner time.  I didn’t see any reason in prolonging this downhill slide and euthanized her on February 16^th.  When I dropped her body off at the crematory, I picked up Courtney’s ashes.  Cordelia's spirit and joy for life will stay with me as will her strength of character.  She was certainly one of a kind. 

Casey

In 1971, I turned 21 and was old enough to drink and vote.  Not at the same time, mind you, but for people of my age, 2 of the most important things ever to happen in our lives.  Little did I know that in June of that year something that would forever change my life would happen.

From the day I was born my family always had animals -a dog, a parakeet, a turtle, a bunny and even fish.  I never had a cat because my father DID NOT like cats.  He considered them “dirty animals.”  When I was 14 my mother took our boxer Cherie, who was 2 years younger than me, to the vet and had her put to sleep.  Cherie had cancer.  When I arrived home from school, the deed had already been done.  I never got a chance to say goodbye to her.  I was devastated.  On February 16^th, 1965 I went into the bedroom to wake up my father to take me to school and found him dead.  My father had been the center of my universe and he was gone.  My mother and older brother fell apart.  I was forced to be the adult in the home.  The loss of my father was a pivotal moment in my young life.  But, unbelievably to me,  something and someone even more pivotal  would be entering my life.

It wasn’t until the summer of 1968 that my mother got me a cat.  Chara Amani was a beautiful seal point Siamese kitten.  In October of that year, I left for college in Orlando.  By the time I returned for Christmas break, Chara was obviously my mother’s cat.  I lived on campus and couldn’t have “a pet”.  By the summer of 1971, home from college, I desperately wanted a blue point Siamese cat of my own.  One of my mother’s co-workers had rescued a blue point Siamese from outside a restaurant she and her husband visited.  This kitty was pregnant when rescued and in early May she gave birth to 2 kittens.  We went to her home to see the kittens.  I was so disappointed because neither of the kittens was Siamese.  Despite that fact, I chose the 5 week old boy, a gray and white tuxedo.  I named him Casey.  He rode home on my lap. 

Chara and our white boxer, Clipper, accepted Casey immediately.  Casey was a delight and so very smart and loving from the very beginning.  When not much more than 3 months old he decided he wanted to be held.  He leaped up to me, only making it as far as my stomach as I stood in front of him.  I looked down and he was hanging by one claw from my stomach.  Once bigger and stronger, he would leap from the floor into my arms.  He did this all his life, and amazed everyone who saw him do it.  He was fearless and like no other animal I had ever had in my life.  He had a mind of his own.  From him I learned what it was like to have a relationship with an animal that overcame the species barrier.  I wasn’t his “master” and he my “pet.”  He viewed me as his equal, a peer. 

When I went back to school, I lived off campus and took him with me.  He astounded me by opening any closed door.  It didn’t matter whether it opened away from him or toward him.  He would leap up, wrap his paws around the door knob (he knew that it required the door knob to be turned to open the door) and shift his weight backwards to cause the door to open toward him.  He’d then drop to the floor and use his paw to open the door wide enough to go inside.  He taught himself to fetch, just like a dog.  Unfortunately, he preferred the more expensive natural bristle makeup brushes to the cheaper sponge applicators.  And, I tried repeatedly to substitute the sponge brushes.  He finally got me trained – I let him have the brushes he wanted.  He would also fetch Hartz Mountain balls with bells inside.  Of course, they could only be the ones that were like a small cage all the way around.  He wouldn’t fetch the ones that were solid plastic on one half and “caged” on the other.  He would pick up the ball in his mouth and carry it back to me to throw over and over again.  I can’t tell you how many friends he would entertain by fetching.  The friends didn’t believe me until they witnessed it for themselves.  I never had to rely on an alarm clock to wake up.  Shortly before the alarm was set to go off, he would lie on my chest and stare at me.  If that didn’t work, he’d nip my nose.  If that didn’t work, he would repeatedly jump back and forth through the Venetian blinds until the annoying sound finally made me get out of bed. 

The biggest impact Casey had on my life was in 1988.  That was the year that South Korea hosted the Summer Olympics.  At that time ABC was the official U.S. network to televise the Olympic Games.  As a lead up to the games, ABC ran a special about Korea.  I was so disturbed as they showed the markets where cats and dogs were sold as food.  Live dogs and cats were shown with wires tying their legs behind their backs.  The dogs had empty aluminum cans fitted over their muzzles, likely to keep them from crying, barking or biting the vendors.  I could not believe that anyone would eat “pets.”  I was enraged, especially when the narrator told that cats were boiled alive.  Cats?  The most wonderful animals on the planet?  That someone could possibly do something like that to my Casey, to any cat?  I was enraged.  It was the first time in my life that I felt hatred for an entire group of people.  But, hatred just wasn’t in me.  What came next to mind was an epiphany for me.

The Korean culture views dogs and cats as food.  That certainly was foreign to me as an American.  We shared our homes, our beds, our lives with these beings.  We loved them.  They were family, friends.   Our culture, on the other hand, viewed cows, pigs, chickens, turkeys, lambs, fish, even rabbits as food.  How could I, in good conscience, object to the culture of another country without examining our culture.  In that moment, I became a vegetarian.  To be able to criticize the customs of one culture without being a hypocrite I would have to reject our culture of eating the flesh of any animal.  The thought of anyone eating Casey or any of his relatives appalled me.  But weren’t the lives of cows, pigs, chickens, turkeys, lambs, fish and rabbits just as valuable?  Of course they were and are.  Casey and the love that I had for him opened my eyes and changed my view of the world and transformed my lifetime love of animals into a respect for the lives of all non-human animals. 

On January 10, 2012, Casey will have been gone for 22 years.  I have lost numerous cats and dogs since that time.  Both of my parents are gone, as is my older brother.  Despite that, the loss of my beloved Casey was the greatest loss I have ever suffered.  I miss him as much today as I did the day that I had to euthanize him.  He was 18 ½ years old.  Not only did I stop eating the flesh of animals, but I have rescued many, many cats and dogs since 1990.  Casey helped me realize just how precious each life is and every animal deserves to live in an optimal environment and to realize the full potential of their own individual personality.  Each of them has a distinct personality, no different from each human.  They deserve a chance to experience joy and share joy with another who loves them, someone who will care for them, will protect them and make them a part of their life.  Although Casey is gone, he remains a part of me and I am forever grateful to have had him in my life.  I am a better person because of his love. 

Loss, Recovery & Life

It’s hard to believe that it has already been one year since that terrible day in Tucson when 6 people were killed and another 12 were injured by a gunman.  Gabrielle Giffords, a Democratic Senator from Arizona, suffered a serious head wound.  At the time this happened I was still making daily visits to Florida Hospital’s Hyperbaric Oxygen unit, being treated for my breast surgery.  Soon after Senator Giffords hospitalization I asked my favorite nurse, Lois, what kind of chance did the Senator have for full recovery based on her injuries.  Lois didn’t think Senator Giffords would ever make a full recovery.

We never know what the future holds.  I recently lost a friend in the rescue community.  She was only 50, healthy and a real dynamo.  She would always step up to take on the real hard luck cases, either cats or dogs.  Her heart and compassion for animals were enormous.  She had suffered a brain aneurysm and collapsed in her home.  Her husband called me about a week after she’d been admitted to the hospital.  On December 23^rd the doctor told her and her husband that she would be released just after Christmas.  She passed away in the early morning hours of Christmas Eve.  Her loss sent shockwaves throughout the Central Florida rescue community.  Many people had never met her, but had communicated with her by phone or email.  She was always willing to share her knowledge and expertise – especially with orphaned kittens – with anyone who needed her advice.  Her wonderful husband now has to figure out how he will care for their many, many rescued dogs and cats.  Her friends have offered to help and, hopefully, he will reach out to those who have offered.

Gabby Giffords is continuing to improve with her speech and mobility issues.  Her husband, an astronaut, has diligently supported her in her rehabilitation.  Both women have been fortunate to find such loyal, loving men with whom to share their lives.  

With all that I’ve been through, both personally with my health and the loss of so many of my cats and dogs, I feel the tragedies of these four lives even more deeply.  While my problems have been enormous, they pale in comparison to the unexpected and unfair tragedies experienced by these two families.  I hope both families will find peace and comfort in the love they have shared and the outpouring of concern from those who know them. 

I’m grateful for the joy my animals have brought and continue to bring to me each day.  It is so easy for us to allow small things to stress and/or get us upset.  Life is short and all too often unfair, which is why I feel it is so important to do our best to ignore those day to day annoyances and other small things and keep our focus on what is important – kindness, compassion, integrity, honesty and treating others – whether they have 2 legs or 4 legs – the way in which we want to be treated.  Hug your loved ones each day, tell them you love them and, if you’re lucky, at least one of them will respond with a purr.