Keeper

October 2, 2009 (It’s been a week…)

I've had a total of six cats up to this point in my life, but only one that I purposely set out to adopt. The others either found their way to me or were what we in rescue circles call, "foster failures" — meant to be fostered until adopted but loved too much to part with, so they just stay and stay and stay. That purposeful quest to adopt was four years ago when MCA first came into my life and when we met this big orange guy that would carve a huge niche in our hearts.

The wonderful MCA foster had just saved this cute bundle of spongecake-colored fur with a curly cream-colored center for a tummy, from the ultimate fate of an overcrowded shelter and only moments before that fate was to happen. (Thank you, MCA!!) He had a horrible upper respiratory infection as many cats from shelters do, and was being quarantined in a special foster area. Sick as he was, it was so hot that he didn't mind lying in the path of a sprinkler’s mist to cool off. The kitty that we'd gone there to see wasn't at all interested in us.

The foster told me about the orange guy she'd just rescued. I asked to see him. The next thing I knew, this runny-nosed, dripping wet orange guy toddled over to me. He looked up at me and (I could swear) said, "Will you pick me up the way I am?"  I said "You betchya!" (Sarah Palin got that from me, not me from her). I reached down and picked him up. He cuddled next to me, rubbed his wet head on my chin, and I am certain he then ever so sweetly and tentatively whispered, "So, will you be my human?" The deal was sealed. I fell in love. He was an absolute keeper. There was no need to look any further. We adopted him on the spot and named him just what he was — Keeper!

We nursed him back to health and he became an integral part of our household. It's odd that I heard him say those things that day because in reality, Keeper had no voice. (We don't know what happened, as is often the case in rescue.) However, even with no voice, every morning when I would say "Good morning, Keeper kitty!" he would look at me with those saucer eyes, open his mouth, and allow a plosive "eh" sound to escape. I knew he had just said good morning back. I could put my nose to his and ask "Can I have a kitty kiss" and he would almost always oblige. He loved his window perch, the bay window seat, and his special spot between us on the sofa and especially in bed.

One day, four years later, on September 9, 2009, Keeper stopped eating. He stopped saying good morning. He stopped giving me kitty kisses. Something was wrong! Our trusted vet ran tests and prescribed treatment, but Keeper did not respond. Jaundiced and weak, Keeper refused to eat but still toddled up and down our long hallway and climbed into bed with us at night, but something was very wrong! We took Keeper to U.C. Davis veterinary hospital where they continued to work closely with our personal vet to figure it out.

Two and a half weeks after Keeper stopped eating, we were all shocked to learn that tests, that when performed a week earlier showed nothing alarming, when repeated a week later, showed a malignant, fast growing, inoperable tumor along with malignant cells elsewhere in his abdomen. The cancer had grown, and was continuing to grow, that fast!

The tumor was in the intestine at the opening of his bile duct creating a blockage that caused food and bile to back up in his intestine, stomach, and esophagus. No wonder he wouldn't eat. Poor baby! The cancer was too insidious, they couldn’t remove it. Soon it would invade his whole body. Without the blockage removed, he would also soon starve to death. Our path was difficult but clear.

On Friday, September 25, 2009, we tearfully said goodbye to our sweet, sweet Keeper kitty. He was only nine years old.

Even with three other cats to love (all "foster failures") the emptiness in our household and our hearts is palpable. He was our chosen child, my "golden" one, my sweet kitty kisser. We miss him more than words can say.

If you have a furry one near you right now, count your blessings — and give them a kitty kiss for me and for Keeper.

— Mary Lou (and Jordan)