SILAS:

This big handsome lanky and thin boy was rescued from the horrible Sacramento shelter in January of 2005 and was almost immediately taken to my vet. He was estimated to be about ten years old, a brown tabby who seemed so mellow and sweet. Little did I know when I took him to my vet that he would never come “home” again to me….he was thin, and would not eat. My vet had to force feed him and he just did not gain weight. She suspected something serious such as cancer and I just pretended that he was soon going to be coming “home” to me….he kept losing weight in spite of her diligent and attentive care and it was obvious that he was very ill. Still, I had hope…I had seen her do magic before, she was going to pull this one off too. He kept losing weight and would purr, etc., but never eat on his own. She kept force feeding him.

Finally the day came that I had dreaded – she had exhausted all the options and could only see putting him down soon because he was so thin….it was a Friday night when I got that message on my cell phone from her. I called her back on Monday, after feeling dread and depression all weekend…I called to say, “”I’ll come down and be with him as he goes to the other side.” She said, “You didn’t get my message later? I left it on your cell.” As it turns out, she just could not stand leaving him in the clinic for the weekend – she wanted him to have some time in a family, in a home, before his life ended, and so she took him home with her! And he was doing great! Playing with her kittens, purring, sleeping on her bed – all the happy, normal things we want for a kitty! I saw him for a visit and he was doing great – still not eating, but purring, sleeping on her pillow, playing with her kittens. I was so moved by her love and devotion to Silas. He was finally experiencing what I had wanted for him. Love. Affection. Home. Care. Tenderness. Fun. He died three weeks later at her home, which was so very sad for all of us, but at least he had a bit of “home” before he went to Kitty Heaven. My vet found cancer throughout him when she did an autopsy.

We have no idea of what most of his ten years of life were like, but for a bit of time, he was loved, cherished, and valued. He had a “home”.

Elaine Lyford-Nojima, Winter 2006