The Amazing Life of Cats (16 page)
Dr Wright had sent me home with a special prescription cat food called k/d, made by Hill’s Pet Nutrition. She explained that the food had reduced protein, phosphorus, sodium and chloride, which would cause less build-up of the waste products that the kidneys normally removed. It also had additives, such as B-complex vitamins. By feeding Tatianna this food, we hoped to slow the disease’s progression. During the years I worked in the veterinary business, I sold thousands of cans and bags of Hill’s therapeutic food. I recalled the heartwarming beginning of Hill’s business—Dr Morris, a veterinarian, had formulated the first batch for a guide dog with kidney failure after the owner asked him to save his dog. That was in 1943. Here I was, more than half a century later, asking my vet to do the same thing for my cat with kidney failure.
I mixed some water with the wet k/d food and put down a small plate. Tatianna ate voraciously. She hadn’t been able to keep food down for over a week and must have been starving. Later that evening, I had my first try at administering fluids to her. It didn’t go well. After her stay at the clinic, Tatianna was more than tired of being poked with needles. I put her on a small round table in the middle of the kitchen. Joe held her down, and I attempted to insert the needle just under her skin on her right side. We suspended the drip set from a long metal plant hook placed over the top of the kitchen archway. The more Joe and I persisted, the more Tatianna resisted, but we did manage to get some fluids into our unwilling patient. The second day, we discovered that the more lightly we held her, the easier it was.
Whenever I wasn’t in the same room as Tattie, I was crying. Joe spent the rest of the weekend trying to console and comfort me. When I brought Tatianna home on Saturday I initially believed that she would not make it through the next week. She had a serious disease, and it was more than likely that it had done irreparable damage. Joe cancelled a business trip so that he could be with me.
However, after having cried for over a week, it suddenly dawned on me that all of this negative energy wasn’t helping Tattie. Even though I tried to be cheerful around her, I knew she sensed how distraught I was. So I vowed to not think about what might happen a week from now and how events might unfold. Instead, I concentrated exclusively on the present moment. I promised myself I would be upbeat, happy and hopeful. To be anything else would have been a disservice to Tatianna. I had often used affirmations to help boost my own spirits, so on Monday I decided that Tatianna needed to hear an affirmation every day, especially at the times when she had to have fluids. I hoped the power of good thoughts would help her. So I sat down and wrote the following affirmation:
The spirit of faith shall heal the sick and
God shall raise him up.
The infinite healing presence is flowing
through Tatianna as harmony and health.
Tatianna is healed and whole.
She is joyful, eating and drinking, and enjoying life
with her loving companions, Katarina and Linda.
Tatianna is healed, blessed, and restored.
Through God, all things are possible.
During the first month of her illness, I repeated this affirmation six times a day. At the office I repeated it twice in the morning and twice in the afternoon. In the evening, Tatianna heard these words as I lovingly administered fluids to her.
In the following months, Tatianna became stronger and stronger. Remarkably, all of us settled into the new routine, which included daily fluids, herbal pills twice a day, food therapy and affirmations. Although her appetite had increased, she ate small amounts of food at a time, so I fed her mini-meals throughout the day. I arranged my work schedule so I could come home more often for lunch. Her diet consisted of Hill’s crunchy k/d and wet k/d, which I mixed with water to make a stew. She loved to lap this up. From the vet’s recommended foods lists, I always had on hand fresh chicken livers or white chicken, which were both big hits with Tatianna. I cooked the livers and then cut them into miniature pieces. Sometimes I sprinkled them over the top of the k/d stew or fed them to her on their own. I baked the chicken and cut it into very fine bits. My challenge was keeping the liver and chicken away from Katie. Invariably, she wangled a couple of morsels from me. Tattie also loved tuna. Although it was not on the dietary list, she got to enjoy it once in a while. We tried scrambled eggs, kidneys and sardines, but they were not to her liking, so I took them off the menu.
In the early months, we made frequent visits to the vet for updated blood work and weight checks. The diagnostic numbers improved dramatically! I kept a result chart for easy comparison from visit to visit. Every three months, I got more herbal pills.
Life was good for Tatianna. Clearly, a team effort contributed to God’s blessing. Tatianna could not have done it alone, and I simply could not identify any one factor that made a difference. Our formula included nine facets: acupuncture, herbal pills, food therapy (the Chinese medicine menu and Hill’s k/d prescription food), affirmations, fluid therapy, regular diagnostic work, a lot of love from Katarina and me, and an underlying spiritual connection. Everyone brought different assets—be it medical expertise, love, strength, bravery, faith or an energy force—and all were necessary ingredients for our miracle.
Tattie began gaining back weight—from her lowest point of less than twelve pounds (five kilos) in August 1998 to her original weight of fifteen pounds (seven kilos) by November 1999. Her lab work looked the best in March 1999 when her BUN and creatinine were both closer to normal range (though still elevated). The creatinine dropped further by October 1999.
Her impossibly blue eyes shimmered with life. Her coat grew shinier and silkier, and she resumed immaculately grooming herself and polishing her whiskers. She settled back into enjoying life with Katarina and me.
At Thanksgiving 1998, I lit a candle in celebration of Tattie’s remarkable battle over the previous six months and read aloud Psalms 75.1:
We give thanks to thee, O God,
we give thanks.
We call on thy name and recount
thy wondrous deeds.
I was truly grateful that she had lived life to the fullest as a thirteen-year-old. I thanked God for bestowing Tatianna on my life and for each precious moment that we had shared.
We had learned to live with occasional water spit-ups, but in January 1999 she began to crawl out of bed in the early morning, drink water from the bowl in the bedroom, and immediately vomit it up. It was almost as though when the cold fluid hit her tummy, it would not stay down. The vets didn’t have any suggestions, and we learned to live with it. Sometimes, she went for days without throwing up, but it was impossible to predict.
Tattie and Katie’s relationship continued to deepen. Their habits of sleeping and nesting together did not abate. As Tattie got stronger, their tussling games resumed, to the merriment and amusement of all. They began to meet me in tandem at doors or the tops of stairs whenever I returned home. They pranced after me to the kitchen each morning for breakfast and followed me back upstairs while I got ready for work. Where one was, the other was not far behind. Their uncompromising devotion was, as always, a marvel.
In observing how Tatianna and Katarina interacted during their inseparable years together, I learned that, for them, the secret of life was simply about loving and caring for each other, day in and day out—nothing more, nothing less. They loved and cared for each other in fun, silly and playful times and on ordinary days. This profound bond sustained them through the sad times of their relationship. The significance of this lesson struck me, and I knew God wanted me to comprehend and adopt it in my own life. God blessed my life with two awesome felines who delivered that message to me.
As I observed Tatianna during her antics and activities, I could not tell she had been near death and was living with impaired kidney function. There was a spring in her step, and she exuded a lighthearted spirit. Her carefree nature and playfulness amazed my family and friends. To me, she was a paragon of bravery.
The drip bottle, daily fluids, pills, specially prepared foods, affirmations and trips to vets—all became integral parts of our lives. Although there were many poignant and sometimes painful reminders that Tattie was coping with a serious disease, I did my best to focus on the present goodness in our lives.
But understandably, there were physical stabs of sorrow in anticipation of the future. The thought of someday losing Tattie overwhelmed me. I tormented myself by wondering, ‘Will it be next week? Next month? Six months from now? Will it be when I am on a trip or teaching a class? Will the ultimate surrender be unexpected or will there be signposts along the journey?’ The thoughts temporarily paralysed me. Fortunately, I realised I could not live this way, and Tatianna would again remind me to live in the now. I learned that animals are masters at focusing on the present moment. Tatianna enjoyed food when she was hungry; when her face was in the food bowl, nothing else mattered. She appreciated the dappled sunlight and could lie for hours with its warmth enveloping her body. Light breezes that caught the lace curtains always captured her attention. Movements, such as a bird in the bird bath or a squirrel foraging for food, caused her to focus intently on the outside. When I arrived home, she concentrated on welcoming me properly. A kind word, a caress or a scratch under the chin was special for her.
Tatianna was not enamoured of the past and was certainly not worrying about the future. She did not know she was not going to live forever, nor did she know all of the warning signs like I did. So she taught me that the present moment is truly all we can be sure of. I was grateful for each day that I shared with my two cats. I was grateful that Tatianna had an appetite, was involved in our household activities, played with Katie and enjoyed lying in the morning sun. Once again, it was the present moment that mattered—not that she had become ill or that someday she would have to give up the battle. I refused to focus on the past or future thoughts. I could not change past events and with God’s help I would deal with the future—when the time came.
So I enjoyed every moment for what it was. Several times a week, Tattie and Katie heard me say, ‘This is a blessed moment.’ Simple, ordinary events—Tatianna crawling in my lap or winking at me, or Katie licking Tatianna while she got her fluids—precipitated these comments.
Each month, quarter, half-year and year became a celebratory milestone. One month led to the next, and before we knew it a year, two years, and then almost three years had passed. I thanked God for each additional day with Tatianna and for giving her a high quality of life.
We celebrated the ordinariness of days. On the surface, a quiet Sunday at home, when I slept in late and relaxed in the rocking chair with Tatianna draped over my lap, appeared to be nothing special. On weekdays, the cats would listen for my car, signalling my return to their world, and greet me without fail—another everyday, ordinary occurrence. Likewise, we savoured the daily activities of waking up, eating, drinking and sleeping. We celebrated the holidays, and I went on vacation to Italy, Germany and Great Britain. Tatianna and Katarina were boarding buddies as they had always been, and there was sweet jubilation each time we were reunited. Confronting and conquering medical odds were extraordinary accomplishments and gave us reasons to celebrate and give thanks every day. Tatianna reminded me that we were constantly surrounded by a myriad of blessed moments, most of them ordinary and a few extraordinary, that should never be taken for granted.
By 1999, I had many reasons to celebrate—several personal milestones, Tatianna’s best year since she became ill, and the solid footing on which I had built my life. I realised my fears of someday losing Tatianna’s love were unfounded. She would always be in my heart.
God beautifies the seasons, creates fluttering butterflies, paints magnificent sunsets, flings stars into the universe, and never ceases to provide strength and hope in the midst of life and death. Upon reflection, I believe God granted Tatianna, Katarina and me this stretch of time to savour the preciousness of our kinship, to learn new, life-altering lessons, and to say goodbye to one another. I knew there would never be another relationship quite like the one the three of us shared. Interestingly, the interval between Tatianna’s first illness and her demise was both the happiest and the saddest chapter of my life with the two cats. God gave us time to communicate and do all that needed to be done. There was no reason for regrets.
There is an old saying, ‘The past is history, the future is a mystery, and today is a gift. That is why they call it the present.’ Tatianna and Katarina were indeed gifts for me to enjoy each and every moment.
From Tatianna: Tales and Teachings of
My Feline Friend, Linda A. Mohr
Cats can be very funny, and have the
oddest ways of showing they’re glad
to see you. Rudimac always peed in
our shoes.
W.H. Auden
