One rainy night in August, 1990, I suddenly awoke from a sound sleep. Through the open window
came an imperious "Meow!" Concerned over whose cat was out in such a drenching thunderstorm, I
hurried to the front door. Instead of the full-grown cat that the tone of the meowing had led
me to expect, I found a tiny, shivering kitten! He couldn't have been more than 4 weeks old! I
brought him inside and dried him off; he was adorable! He waved his tail from side to side so
energetically that he knocked himself over several times. My two other cats didn't quite know what
to make of him; they seemed to think he was some new brand of cat toy!
My mom had been looking for a new cat ever since I'd moved out and taken the family pets with me--they were brothers
and we didn't want to separate them. She said she would love to adopt him once she returned from her vacation.
So I agreed to keep him until then. I called him Stupid, because of his silly kitten antics and also so Mom would
have a chance to name him when she came home!
Well, Mom's landlord threw a fit about her having a cat, so a month later Stupid was back with me. Somehow, the name
Mom had picked out for him (Clouseau, after one of her favorite movies) never stuck, and he always answered to Stupid.
My other two kitties, Frodo (the tabby) and Puszykaat (the Siamese) eventually got used to him. They raised him,
litter-trained him, washed behind his ears, and generally acted as if he were their own brother.
In November of 1997 we went home to Ohio for Thanksgiving. When we came home, I noticed that he seemed to have lost some weight, but
I figured that he had just not been eating a whole lot while we were gone. But no matter how much I fed him, he didn't gain anything
back, then I noticed some yellowing in his ears--jaundice. That was that. I took him to the vet.
Stupid was diagnosed with chronic renal failure, meaning his kidneys were shutting down. The waste products, instead of being eliminated
in his urine, were simply recirculating in his bloodstream. He spent a week in the hospital, then Ed sent him home. He was on many medications,
like potassium and calcium supplements, steroids, nutritional supplements, and he got fluids subcutaneously on a daily basis. Eventually I was able to
taper that off, but I still gave him the sq fluids whenever he seemed to be going through a bad spell. He would do well for a few weeks, then have a
few bad days, then do well...It was very up-and-down and took a big toll on me emotionally.
We buried Stupid outside, under the window he always sat in to watch the birds. I was desolate, and kept thinking maybe there was something else we hadn't tried--don't ask me what, though; we did conventional medicine, herbal medicine, homeopathic medicine...you name it, we tried it. Monday night, as I lay in bed trying unsuccessfully to sleep, Stupid came to me. I saw him fat, with shiny fluffy fur, his tail sticking straight up and waving back and forth as it did when he was pleased with himself. He bounced up to me, and gave me a long look, as if to say, "I know you tried, and I love you for it, but I'm much happier now," and bounced away again. So now, while I grieve for the loss of his companionship and love, I know that I did the right thing.
For more information about feline CRF and its treatment, there is a wonderful website called the Feline Chronic Renal Failure Information Center, run by people who lost their cat to CRF. You can also email me.
