May 22nd 2006, four tiny kittens were born in my parents' barn to a very sick mama kitty. This mama kitty had had several litters of kittens. None of them survived much past the first year. Coyotes, cars, and illness always took their lives before they could even get started. Mama kitty was thin. She was struggling with her own life, but managed to care for her new litter of wee ones to the best of her ability. She was a good mama.
Right around this time, Josh and I moved in with my folks until we could find a place to buy of our own. Until then, I was back home and enjoying the country life while pregnant with Alex. I never thought that Mama kitty's and my own life would be intertwined.
One day, I came home from work in the pouring rain. There in the middle of the driveway was a tiny, helpless black kitten, struggling to move. When I reached it, I knew it was hopeless. It was dying. Mama kitty had been trying to move them and this little one got left behind. At just a few weeks old, I did all I could to save it, but it wasn't meant to be. I searched the barn and found the other three tabby kittens. They were covered in fleas, eyes matted closed, and snot pouring from their noses. Mama kitty was nursing them, but she wasn't moving much. She looked hopeless. I had a moment with her and struggled with what to do. She was so thin and looked as though she was pouring her very last bit of life into those three sick kittens who had almost no hope of living. I made a rash choice. I took them inside and bottle fed them in hopes to give them something extra while their mama struggled. The next day, Mama kitty died.
Three tiny, sickly kittens now were going to die if I didn't intervene. Being pregnant, my hormones were raging lunatics and I decided to do all in my power to save the orphaned kittens. And so began a journey that changed us forever.
Those three little kittens had spunk. They may have been deathly ill, but they did their best to not show it. I took them to the vet and she helped me as many ways as she could to get them better. I bathed them, the water dark brown from flea dirt and blood. I cleaned their eyes, wiped their bottoms like a mama cat so they could potty, and gave them medicine and bottles of milk every two hours. They started to get better, but it was a long, hard road and many months of medicine. We named them Logan, Jasmine and Penny. They stole our hearts. My mom told me to stick them back out in the barn where they belong because Josh and I already had two cats that were a year old - Luke and Leia. She couldn't fathom us having five cats inside. Boy, was she ever wrong.
Penny was the runt of the litter. She struggled the hardest to get better and her left eye never did improve. One day, as I was gently cleaning it, her eye popped right out and flew across the room. Needless to say, I was devastated. I scooped the eye up and took her to the vet. At barely a month old, she went in for surgery to have her eye socket cleaned out and sewed shut. It was risky for her age, but she made it. It took ages to heal and finally one day, she was better. She used to curl up on our chest and purr so loud it felt unreal. Josh and I were hooked. They were ours forever. They were family.
The vet told us that in all rights, those kittens shouldn't have survived. But I truly believe that God sent them to us, just like he sends so many pets our way to love. And those pets love us back. We were warned that they might not live as long as other cats because of such a rocky start to life and poor history with their mama. Logan has diabetes, Jasmine has some sort of horrible bowel disorder, and Penny...well...she never had any other problems. Ten years later, we thought they'd live forever.
Four months ago, Penny began to vomit blood. It was frightening and seeing as how she never vomited, I was scared. I rushed her in and they did a blood panel only to find out that she was hyperthyroid. The vet said it was very common in old cats. Old? She's old?! That came as a shock to me. When did our babies get old? Hyperthyroidism can be controlled with pills but it only extends their life. It could be months. It could be years. Every cat responds differently. I told the vet that her sister Jasmine has vomited every day for years and lost tons of weight. Turns out she had it too.
It was rocky. The meds made her sick to her stomach and we finally (via a friend who's a vet) learned to giver her Pepcid before her meds. It worked! She was back to normal. But then...that's when it started to go bad. She got sick. She had a high fever and was lethargic. A shot of steroids, B12, and a round of antibiotics later, and she was right as rain. Two weeks later she got the same thing. Back to the vet and another drug cocktail later and she was great again. It went on like this four times. Each time, it seemed to be little less serious and I was hopeful - until two weeks ago. She got sick so we started her on meds. This time, it wasn't getting better like before. I took her to the vet yet again and she said that she needed some extra steroids to kickstart her system. She ate well for one day and then the next it was a struggle. This past Saturday, I noticed that she was looking frail. She was trying to eat, but the food kept falling out of her mouth. She acted normal - always meowing and purring. She went to bed with Abby, just like every night, because she chose Abby as her special own human. That night, I said good night to her and she meowed and purred. Sunday morning, Josh woke me up and said that he Penny wasn't moving and that the other cats were hissing at her.
Oh please, God. Not now. That's all I could think.
I rushed her into the emergency vet, a place I'd never been before. Before I left, I woke the kids and through never ending streams of tears, told them that I didn't think Penny was going to make it this time. I watched Abby break into a million pieces that morning. We took pictures, we loved on her, we told her we loved her and we pet her, but she was in so much pain that she couldn't lift her body off the floor.
When the vet came out they rushed her back to get her on oxygen and start a port in her leg for meds. She was critical with very little hope. They told me that they could treat her aggressively and try, but it would cost thousands of dollars and she was so critical that it would probably not work, only causing her to suffer longer. A part of me died when I signed the paper to put her to sleep. I went into the room and they brought her to me. In just the fifteen minutes since we'd arrived, she had gotten worse. She was crying out through painful breaths and couldn't lift her head. I held her paws and kissed her head - rubbing that empty missing eye socket like she always loved. They gave her sedation, so she would fall asleep first, no longer hurting. Then one more syringe and she was gone in seconds.
We buried her as a family at my mom's house. The kids pet her one last time. One last kiss. One last moment. One last goodbye. We wrapped her in a Christmas blanket and prayed over the grave. There wasn't a dry eye there. She was, and always will be, our sweet Penny. Never forgotten - always loved.
Some people don't believe that pets go to heaven when they die. When I became saved 15 years ago, there was a brief moment when I wondered as well. But in a blink of an eye, I knew they were wrong. Some say that animals don't have souls. I don't believe that either. Every single time one of my amazing animals has left this world, they leave me behind a changed person. The pain is almost unbearable when you say goodbye. And I've done it so often that it's hard to believe I'm not used to it.
I
know that God takes them home. Maybe they don't have a soul exactly like we do. But that's only because as we care for them and love them, they take a small piece of our own souls for their own. And when they die, we are forever changed. We wonder why it hurts our hearts so badly when they leave. How could it not hurt? They take a piece of our souls with them when they go. And they sit there in Heaven with God, waiting. When we die, and join them, our souls will be whole again. They are a part of us, just as we are a part of them. When they die, we don't just
feel broken. We
are broken. That's what it is to love them.
And Penny...sweet Penny...she didn't just take a piece of my soul. She took a piece of Abby's, Alex's, Evie's, and Josh's. We loved her and always will. We are broken without her. But she is and always will be what God intended - a perfect blessing.
Rest in peace sweet Penny. We'll love you always. Until we meet again.
 |
| Baby Penny - just after her eye surgery. |
 |
| Penny this year on Abby's bed where she loved the most. |
