Sorry I missed posting yesterday but I was recovering. Monday had a follow up with the surgeon, things are going well but healing more slowly than he expected. Eh, I felt fine until he poked me – then I was sore. The next day I worked a double shift – 10 hours on my feet. So yesterday was spent recovering. Now I’m good to go! So excuse the missed day I have a doctor’s note.
I promised way back when I introduced my furry entourage that I’d fill in each’s individual story. Today let me tell you about Miss Mo our senior entourage member.
Actually Mo is short for Mohican as she’s the sole survivor of her litter. The Last Mohican if you will. It all started when I was taking our dear Popcorn (a Siamese kitty we had for 17 years) to the vet for a pain shot. She was dying of intestinal cancer the best we could do was manage her pain and watch for signs that it was the end. As I’m pulling into the vet’s parking lot I dodge the mashed box in the road. Just as I turn I see a cute tabby kitten face peep out of the open edge of the box. OMG there’s a baby kitten in there! I stopped and grabbed the box.
I struggled into the vet’s with the nasty disintegrating box that had more than one kitten in it, some not moving and a yowling Popcorn in her carrier. Popcorn was never one not to vocalize her opinions, especially when she wasn’t treated as the Queen she was. I explained to the receptionist what the box was she looked in and quickly disappeared with it to the back. Popcorn and I took our seats in the waiting room.
There had been five kittens in the box when it was taped shut and dumped in the road in front of the vet’s office. Two survived the hit by a car who probably never knew there was life in that box. The vet made me a deal – he’d treat the survivors if I’d give them a home or find them a home among those I trusted. He knew I took good care of my pets and if I couldn’t provide a home I’d not let them go to one that wasn’t up to my standards. I agreed.
Only the female tabby whose face I saw in the opening made it. She had a broken pelvis. She lost her plume of a tail. She had a respiratory infection that was so bad her sinus infection abscessed out her jaw. Such a horrid 6 weeks of life she’d had. When she was ready she came home but had to be restricted to a small space while her pelvis healed. A good friend loaned her extra large dog carrier for the purpose. There Miss Mo got an efficiency apartment. Tiny litter pan in the back, bed in the front, food bowls opposite the bed. She did well but wasn’t fully weaned so I had to feed her with a nursing bottle twice a day as she adapted to cat food.
To our joy and Popcorn’s chagrin Mo became a healthy romping kitten. Oh when we were around PC would act all Archie Bunker grump to the kitten but there were moments when she didn’t know I was looking I’d see her groom the kitten as they curled up together in a chair. PC slept at my feet and Mo slept by my shoulder on nights Mike was away. As PC became more ill I was grateful for the new joyous life to lift her spirits and ours. I can’t say it eased the pain when the cancer won, but it was better to come home to house that still had a kitty presence. One that I knew PC loved despite not ever admitting it openly to me.
Mo is still skittish of strangers but trusts me implicitly. I have to say I treasure that trust and like to think I redeemed humanity a bit in one kitty’s eyes. Her rough start has haunted her all her life but it’s not slowed her down. She’s knock-kneed in her back legs making her running look more like hopping and her walk look so prissy. Her tail is a powder puff instead of a full plume. She eats from the side of her mouth that didn’t abscess at such an early age because the jaw is stronger there. Arthritis set in early due to all the bone damage, which meant regular meds to manage it. She now has kidney problems because they were always less than optimum from the damage but now that’s complicated by renal insufficiency from old age. Another daily pill is required to manage that. Still none of this stopped her from feeling safe in her home and enjoying being a kitten and later a cat.
We got Mo when Aaron was in first grade. When it was time to take her in to be spay I explained to Aaron that Mo was having surgery to be “fixed.” When we picked her up at the vet I was paying (he only billed me cost for his Miracle Kitty) and Aaron was on the floor peering into the carrier. From the floor came shout, “Hey MOM! They didn’t fix her – her tail is still too SHORT!” The whole office laughed!
Now Miss Mo is in her senior years being the rich old age of 12 despite all her set backs. She’s a wisp of a kitty struggling to keep weight on, but still on good days she romps with Mr. Puss Blue. She still rather do the steps herself thank-you and the litter box belongs in the laundry room no second one on this level is acceptable. She has a ramp to her bed and steps to her perch. She’ll jump into chairs on good days and yowl for help to get there on bad ones. Real bad ones she sleeps on her blanket where two radiators meet in living room. In the winter she burrows into blankets to sleep, keeping old damaged bones warm. So check the folds of that Afghan before sitting on it. She still plays with her pompom toys and grooms them – we call them her babies. She’s as vocal as Popcorn was once she mastered the ability to make a noise after recovering from the abscess years ago. Today she likes her cuddles first thing in the morning. She sits patiently and takes her pills in the evening to snap up the treat chaser. She’s even taught Mr. Boots Red (who now has to take a pill nightly) just how this med thing is done.
Here’s to many more years with our precious wisp of a survivor. Until next time!