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After reading Laurie's entry, it brought back memories of a bad time in my life. Just a warning; the following isn’t happy or light or full of wisdom, and if you're having a bad day you might want to turn back.
When my daughters were ten and eight, they went through an experience no little girl should ever have. I'm not going to detail it here; I'm not strong enough and doubt I ever will be. Suffice to say, one act splintered my family, drove one of the last nails into the coffin of my marriage, and changed things irrevocably for many people.
I tried everything I could to ease things for all involved, but my foremost priority was my girls. I don't know if it was the right decision, but it was the only one I could make. Anyway, after the dust had cleared and things were still in the dark, I was desperate to find some glimmer of some kind to offer to the girls. It was February, (one of the darkest and dreariest months of the year) and I thought that getting two kittens would help them. Cats had been a no-no in our house all of our marriage, but in this I would not be gainsaid and permission was granted.
Trouble is, kittens are hard to find in the dead of winter in upstate New York. I called pet shops, went through classified ads, called people I knew and still nothing. For some reason, I was fixated on finding two kittens for the girls. It was almost an obsession.
Finally, a woman called me that had been a 4H leader for the girls a year or so back, and said she had a couple of barn kittens that we could have. She brought them right over, and it was love at first sight. They fit in the palm of our hands, white with beautiful blue eyes. So tiny, so beautiful and the girls were enchanted. I saw the remnants of the girls they had been peek out and the rock that had been crushing my heart lightened just a bit.
We named them Cleo and Delilah. At first, they were active little buggers, jumping all over the place and eating their weight and more in cat food, but after three days they were legarthic and stopped eating. So we went in for the first of many vet visits, and found out they had pneumonia and ear mites. The vet said he didn't think Cleo was going to make it. He took blood, gave them shots of antibiotics, eardrops and said that Cleo had to come back every day for the next 8 days for a shot of a high-powered antibiotic and even then she might not survive. I knew the vet bill would be enormous, and I was the only one making any money and things were so tight I couldn’t sleep at night.
I made arrangements at work and brought Cleo in every day for the next 8 days. There was no way that kitten was going to die, no way. I was not going to look into my daughter's eyes and tell her that her kitten had died. Donna and Cleo had bonded and I knew a blow like that would be just too much to take.
I spent the next two months mortgage payments on those cats, because pneumonia was only the first of many problems. Because Cleo's ears had been so infested with mites, she was prone to infections and wax build-up problems. They went through eye infections, throat infections, it seemed endless, but I doctored them through everything. Cleo never complained, scratched, hissed, bit…. She took her medicine or drops and purred and would want to be petted. She had the best temperament of any cat I have ever owned.
At seven months old they were old enough to be spayed, so I took them in for the operation. The vet took one look and started laughing and said, "You mean, they need to be NEUTERED!" and I said "What?" He was hysterically laughing and said, "These are BOY cats!"
Well, I laughed till I almost peed my pants, and I was a little leery telling the girls their pets were boys, not girls. But, it didn’t faze them like I thought it might, and actually, it was probably a good thing. Good that they didn’t know the gender at first. Funny how things work.
So, by a vote, we changed Cleo to Leo and Delilah to Simba… and loved them just as much.
Fast forward to four years later, and I'm leaving. There was no way to put such a splintered and shattered marriage back together; I knew it four years previously. Anyway, I found my way amongst threats and other assorted bad things, and the cats stayed at the house where the kids spent half their time.
Leo was never totally healthy after the first bout of pneumonia. He was the weaker of the two cats; Simba had blossomed and gotten fat and sassy. He attached himself to the ex; Leo was totally Donna's baby.
The ex decided to take the kids with him on vacation and asked me to come over when they were gone to look after the cats. I stopped by the night before they left to say good-bye, and Leo jumped in my lap, purring. I missed that cat so bad. When I petted him, I could feel the bones of his spine, and I noticed his fur had been cut, chopped really, from his back legs and around his rear end. I asked the ex why his fur had been cut like that and he told me Leo had diarrhea some time back and he was sick of having to clean it up. I said you know, he's lost weight he's very skinny, and I was told to mind my own business and he would take Leo to the vet when he got back from vacation.
They were only gone four days, but I stopped by every day to look after Leo and Simba. Leo only came out twice, but he seemed okay and his dish was empty. I didn’t realize that Simba was eating the food Leo wasn’t.
They all returned from vacation and I assumed the ex took Leo to the vet like he said he would. Donna was very worried about Leo; since we had joint custody of the kids she would agonize about whether or not Leo was okay when she was with me. I assured her that her dad would take care of Leo, and not to worry.
The ex called me the next night and told me he had gotten home from work to find Leo dead in the hallway. He wanted the kids the next night so they could have a funeral, and told me to tell Donna. I fought for many years not to hate this man, knowing that hate only rebounds upon the hater; but I don't know as I've hated him any more than I did right then.
I told my daughter and we held each other and cried. I let her vent about her father, because she was very angry and had to get it out. Later, she recounted the funeral to me and we cried some more. There are times to this day I cry over that cat. Donna said her father never once apologized to her about not taking Leo to the vet. She told me it is the one thing she will never forgive her father for.
Leo was the best cat. He was loving and patient, never complained in the face of painful health problems and I believe he saved Donna's sanity. I believe he saved mine. Its funny how you can take inspiration from a pet, but you can. To this day he is missed.
When my daughters were ten and eight, they went through an experience no little girl should ever have. I'm not going to detail it here; I'm not strong enough and doubt I ever will be. Suffice to say, one act splintered my family, drove one of the last nails into the coffin of my marriage, and changed things irrevocably for many people.
I tried everything I could to ease things for all involved, but my foremost priority was my girls. I don't know if it was the right decision, but it was the only one I could make. Anyway, after the dust had cleared and things were still in the dark, I was desperate to find some glimmer of some kind to offer to the girls. It was February, (one of the darkest and dreariest months of the year) and I thought that getting two kittens would help them. Cats had been a no-no in our house all of our marriage, but in this I would not be gainsaid and permission was granted.
Trouble is, kittens are hard to find in the dead of winter in upstate New York. I called pet shops, went through classified ads, called people I knew and still nothing. For some reason, I was fixated on finding two kittens for the girls. It was almost an obsession.
Finally, a woman called me that had been a 4H leader for the girls a year or so back, and said she had a couple of barn kittens that we could have. She brought them right over, and it was love at first sight. They fit in the palm of our hands, white with beautiful blue eyes. So tiny, so beautiful and the girls were enchanted. I saw the remnants of the girls they had been peek out and the rock that had been crushing my heart lightened just a bit.
We named them Cleo and Delilah. At first, they were active little buggers, jumping all over the place and eating their weight and more in cat food, but after three days they were legarthic and stopped eating. So we went in for the first of many vet visits, and found out they had pneumonia and ear mites. The vet said he didn't think Cleo was going to make it. He took blood, gave them shots of antibiotics, eardrops and said that Cleo had to come back every day for the next 8 days for a shot of a high-powered antibiotic and even then she might not survive. I knew the vet bill would be enormous, and I was the only one making any money and things were so tight I couldn’t sleep at night.
I made arrangements at work and brought Cleo in every day for the next 8 days. There was no way that kitten was going to die, no way. I was not going to look into my daughter's eyes and tell her that her kitten had died. Donna and Cleo had bonded and I knew a blow like that would be just too much to take.
I spent the next two months mortgage payments on those cats, because pneumonia was only the first of many problems. Because Cleo's ears had been so infested with mites, she was prone to infections and wax build-up problems. They went through eye infections, throat infections, it seemed endless, but I doctored them through everything. Cleo never complained, scratched, hissed, bit…. She took her medicine or drops and purred and would want to be petted. She had the best temperament of any cat I have ever owned.
At seven months old they were old enough to be spayed, so I took them in for the operation. The vet took one look and started laughing and said, "You mean, they need to be NEUTERED!" and I said "What?" He was hysterically laughing and said, "These are BOY cats!"
Well, I laughed till I almost peed my pants, and I was a little leery telling the girls their pets were boys, not girls. But, it didn’t faze them like I thought it might, and actually, it was probably a good thing. Good that they didn’t know the gender at first. Funny how things work.
So, by a vote, we changed Cleo to Leo and Delilah to Simba… and loved them just as much.
Fast forward to four years later, and I'm leaving. There was no way to put such a splintered and shattered marriage back together; I knew it four years previously. Anyway, I found my way amongst threats and other assorted bad things, and the cats stayed at the house where the kids spent half their time.
Leo was never totally healthy after the first bout of pneumonia. He was the weaker of the two cats; Simba had blossomed and gotten fat and sassy. He attached himself to the ex; Leo was totally Donna's baby.
The ex decided to take the kids with him on vacation and asked me to come over when they were gone to look after the cats. I stopped by the night before they left to say good-bye, and Leo jumped in my lap, purring. I missed that cat so bad. When I petted him, I could feel the bones of his spine, and I noticed his fur had been cut, chopped really, from his back legs and around his rear end. I asked the ex why his fur had been cut like that and he told me Leo had diarrhea some time back and he was sick of having to clean it up. I said you know, he's lost weight he's very skinny, and I was told to mind my own business and he would take Leo to the vet when he got back from vacation.
They were only gone four days, but I stopped by every day to look after Leo and Simba. Leo only came out twice, but he seemed okay and his dish was empty. I didn’t realize that Simba was eating the food Leo wasn’t.
They all returned from vacation and I assumed the ex took Leo to the vet like he said he would. Donna was very worried about Leo; since we had joint custody of the kids she would agonize about whether or not Leo was okay when she was with me. I assured her that her dad would take care of Leo, and not to worry.
The ex called me the next night and told me he had gotten home from work to find Leo dead in the hallway. He wanted the kids the next night so they could have a funeral, and told me to tell Donna. I fought for many years not to hate this man, knowing that hate only rebounds upon the hater; but I don't know as I've hated him any more than I did right then.
I told my daughter and we held each other and cried. I let her vent about her father, because she was very angry and had to get it out. Later, she recounted the funeral to me and we cried some more. There are times to this day I cry over that cat. Donna said her father never once apologized to her about not taking Leo to the vet. She told me it is the one thing she will never forgive her father for.
Leo was the best cat. He was loving and patient, never complained in the face of painful health problems and I believe he saved Donna's sanity. I believe he saved mine. Its funny how you can take inspiration from a pet, but you can. To this day he is missed.
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