Posts Tagged ‘cat’
A RESCUE CATTERY LIKE YOU’VE NEVER SEEN
Yesterday, we visited an amazing rescue organization called Animalkind, Inc. in Hudson, NY. Katrin, the woman behind Animalkind, Inc., and her devoted staff pull cats from death row, manage feral cat colonies and rehabilitate injured cats to adopt out every furry soul they can. This shelter is unique. A house rather than a facility, every amenity is provided for the cats, the majority of whom roam free. Let me just say, being surrounded by more than 100 free-roaming felines in one room is quite an experience, one you have to see to believe.
What I found most special about AnimalKind, Inc. is the way the cats’ relationships and emotional health were considered and preserved. If a cat came from an irresponsible barn situation, Animalkind, Inc. requests that a responsible barn situation be provided. If two cats have bonded at the house or prior to rescue, they adopt the pair together. Impressed by the sensitivity to cat relationships especially, I bought an extra cat carrier and went with an open mind. Two were certainly a possibility if both were a fit. (If you can’t see the video below, visit “Adopting a Kitten… or Two” on YouTube.)
Visit AnimalKind, Inc. for more about their cat rescues.)
OUR NEW KITTENS!
The minute we picked these two kittens up, it was clear to every one present that we were meant to be a family. For us, it was important to know that they had been raised with dogs and, at four months of age, they were young enough to acclimate well in a household where good inter-animal relationships are key. For the staff at the shelter, it was a relief to know that this pair would never be split up. So… making our final choice with confidence, Tim and I are proud to introduce our latest family members, Jackson and Jed!
LITTLE MIRACLES
Brothers from the same mother, our kittens have different fathers. While I never knew it was possible, the scientific term for this is “superfetation.” As it turns out, roughly 10% of female cats go into heat between the third and sixth week of pregnancy and, although these cycles are rarely fertile, it is possible for a cat to carry fetuses of different ages resulting from separate matings. Typically, the youngest litter is delivered prematurely along with the oldest and they are not able to survive. In extremely rare cases, the youngest kittens remain in-utero until fully developed. (For more on this, visit “Tom Cats and Kittens“) I guess we have ourselves some rare and miraculous little super beasties. Against scientific odds, these guys found a way to be together and that’s how they’ll remain.
MEET JED
Loving up our new babies until deep into the night, I didn’t look carefully at the adoption contract until today. Noting birthdates that didn’t align with our cats’ history, I counted back from the vaccination records. Guess what…
The youngest, orangiest kitten who jumped out of the carrier and plopped right into my lap was born on October 28th, my birthday! I named him Jed. While my first choice was Carter, this little guy has a hip and cool attitude with more confidence than the name Carter reflects. Oddly, he responded to Jed immediately. While I thought this strange at first, the adoption contract reveals why. His original name was Red.
MEET JACKSON
Jackson, originally named Sunshine, is listed as being born on October 7, 2009. His little white mitts and the white under his chin differentiate him from his younger brother. While Tim and I liked the name Jackson from the start, it became readily apparent that this name suited this kitten. The minute he entered into his new home, he bounced around the room ready for action. This guy is totally Tim’s kind of cat. Affectionate, of course, but also happy to play all the live-long day. That Tim picked this name – and the cat who picked Tim settled into it nicely – feels absolutely perfect.
There will be many new adventures in this household, to be sure. Keep your eyes peeled.
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Kringle found me when he was just 3 months old. He came in one frigid night in December 1984 while I brought in an armload of wood. He laid in front of the Christmas Tree undetected for some time only to be discovered like a present from Santa. Too cold and dark to find his home that night, we curled into the chair by the fire and napped on and off. The next day, I canvassed several blocks for his owner but to no avail. Al, my closest neighbor, said the little guy had been living under his porch for a week but he had no idea where the kitten had come from.
After the vet dewormed him and his eyes grew straight, Kringle blossomed into a beautiful, regal, affectionate and, well, sometimes distraught soul with what appeared to be two personalities living within the same body. His tail would often taunt his head and his head would savagely attack his tail providing endless entertainment without leaving the warring cat any worse for wear. The game was akin to Ring Around the Rosie “for one” with a bit of hissing, spitting and an occasional sommersault thrown in for good measure. Last year’s holiday video demonstrates it best:
As we moved through several apartments during our lifetime together, there was at least one landlord who feared for his children’s safety when Kringle hissed and spat himself into a tizzy. While that landlord never did believe me, Kringle was the perfect gentleman around children. He also got along well with dogs and birds.
While out on the prowl two weeks ago to the day, Kringle passed away. Tim discovered him laying in the path next to the house. He was pointed in the direction of home. I suspect a catastrophic health event brought him down where he lay, but his body was positioned at peace, paws crossed, every muscle at rest.
When Tim ran outside that morning, I knew it was the day I had been bracing for. Each and every minute after Kringle turned thirteen was a gift in my mind. I had never known a cat to live longer and yet Kringle gave me 16 wonderful years. We had no regrets, no unanswered headbuts, no ignored meows, no unsaid “I love yous.” Ours was a beautiful relationship and I was acutely aware of its perfection in every moment.
I joined Tim outside. We knelt in the snow and admired Kringle’s beautiful fur, fluffed and glistening from the chill in the air. I wrapped his body in a towel with Tim’s help and held my dear friend close feeling the weight of his plump, furry mass in my arms one last time. Through my tears, I breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t suffer from disease or linger on in pain. He played with the dogs, went outside for one last walk, fell into the soft snow and succumbed to shock, sleeping the deepest sleep under my window in the garden where we often played in the cat mint.
The night of his death, I choked on my sobs and held my breath as though stillness would halt time. I wanted the day to never end so Kringle would always be part of it, even if that meant nothing more than arranging for his cremation.
Life has since been plagued by distraction leaving little time to reflect upon or accept this enormous loss. Only occasionally has reality crept in. The day following his death, the phone repair man stepped in Kringle’s sillouhette. A footprint had desecrated the indentation where there had been warm paws, an ear, a tail to shape the snow. I felt stinging sadness as I vacuumed the last of his gray fur from under the coffee table where he always sat waiting for a passing human foot or dog paw to whack. I wiped three muddy footprints from the sun porch floor knowing I would miss that task from now on. Even still, there are traces of him all around, memories of laugher, purring, warmth. I move through my days as though Kringle is asleep in my bed or out for walk, never facing the fact that he is, indeed, gone. I don’t remember what life is like without him and have yet to fully understand what that feels like.
But now there are ashes…
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