Shadow was a rescue cat that we adopted kind of on a whim. It was June 2004, and the story was on the local TV station's evening news that 30 cats and kittens had been found abandoned in a small apartment over a then defunct country store in the next town. They were left with no food or water, and no one had contacted the landlord about them. He found them when he went to talk to the tenant who was way behind on rent. It was also in the papers, because the town animal control officer, the landlord and a bunch of golden-hearted volunteers were working hard to get the place cleaned up, the animals vet-checked, and most of them adopted. It was only a 10 minute drive away and the folks caring for the cats were desperate for supplies and donations. We had 4 cats at the time and had lost a 5th one over the past year, so we decided we could afford to take in one more. So #2 son Brian and I headed out with some things to donate and a pet carrier in hand, our minds set on bringing home one more furbaby.
It was quite the scene once we got there, cat lovers of all kinds were lining up outside. We brought a 25 lb bag of clay cat litter, a half case of canned cat food, and an old blanket to use as bedding. We got into the line that snaked up the stairwell and small deck that lead to the apartment and inched our way along. At times we had to lean over as another happy pet person came down with a cat-laden carrier. It did my heart good to see so many people turn out to adopt an unwanted animal. They were only letting in a couple people at a time, as the apartment was tiny and the cats in there were easily spooked. By the end of the next week I heard that all but 5 cats were adopted, and they went home with the animal control officer to learn to live with people. Only one of the 30 had to be euthanized because it was too ill to survive. All that were sick were treated and restored to good health, and all were spayed or neutered.
As we finally made it to deck level I got to chat with some of the other folks as well as the very patient and understanding landlord, and they filled in the missing info. The lady who had rented the place had taken in shelter cats, and she had a big heart but minimal resources. She'd been late on the rent often, and hadn't paid in several months. There had been issues with a boyfriend and it seemed both had skipped out and abandoned the cats. There was still a dead Christmas tree in a stand (remember this is June) and the needles lay all over the floor. The place was a stinking mess with all the cats using it as a giant litter box, and some of the cats were too ill to be adopted yet. What a story!
The landlord seemed like a really nice guy, and so I thanked him for being a kitty angel, and letting the animals stay there until they got adopted. He was going to have a massive bill for cleaning up the place, and he admitted it was the worst mess he had ever seen in 27 years of renting property. Still he never pressed charges against the lady who abandoned the cats, and I heard that she did show up later that week and filled the animal control officer on whatever she knew about the cats and explained that she had just panicked and walked out without thinking. But to leave 30 animals without food or water for two weeks is cruel, so I had only a modicum of sympathy when I heard that. I would ask for asssitance before I did that to helpless animals.
As we were waiting on the stairs, a couple of happy people walked out with a striking tuxedo (black and white) cat in the carrier that had a sleek and shiny fur and a blaze down the left side of his face. That was Shadow's sibling and he was very pretty too. We never saw him again, and I hope he had a good life. When Brian and I were let in, the couple before us were playing with a very friendly gray mackeral tabby that they were going to take home. We were kind of late getting in, and most of the friendly, healthy, and sociable cats were gone. We were told of the cats left, most were skittish and hiding. Some eyed us warily. There were a lot of combinations of gray, both long and short haired, and several cats were marked as ill and not currently adoptable. I opened a hooded litter pan and found four cats piled in together, a very large long haired one on top. They stared at me with fear in their eyes, and my heart went out to all of them.
In the closet of that tiny place, was another pretty black and white adult male cat, and he had a paper collar on with a temporary name and his sex. The animal control officer said that to get the cats vet checked and neutered, they had to be named, and so the two black siblings that had the white on opposite sides of their face, became 'Lefty' and 'All Righty' We looked at all the other cats, but the black and white one was very attractive, and while he was wary and not very playful, he let us pet him. So Brian and I decided he was the one, and Shadow came home with us.
Because they had paid to have him vet checked and neutered, and he had been given some innoculations, I gave the animal control officer a $25 check to help with expenses. She did tell us the vet said one of the black and white cats had a seizure during the neutering, but they couldn't recall which one. Shadow also had some bad teeth, but he was only approximately 4 years old, so he likely had either been caged or fed on bread. He also showed signs of abuse, as did many of the other cats. Poor guy!
It was quite an adventure from the start. Shadow was sleepy and sluggish from being neutered just the day before, so at first he was quiet. Once he woke up and realized he was in a strange place with new people though, he began to look for places to hide. He wedged himself into impossible spots in the furniture and we lost him for half a day. He was deathly afraid of men, and would bolt at their voices or whenever someone walked into the room. Once we got the idea that he needed a safe hiding place, so we left a pet carrier out with the door propped open so he could retreat as he needed to. He got his name for the way he would slip out silently to get food, water, or use the litter pan, and then race back into the carrier so fast he was more of a blur than a cat. Sometimes he hit the back wall of the carrier so hard it almost tipped up, such was his fright at being seen. Shadow always came and went like that, as long as we had him, slipping into a room on silent paws, and racing away like his tail was on fire. It took a long time to tame him enough to handle him, and he never was easy to treat or medicate in any way, as he usually went beserk as soon as you tried to pick him up. It took a lot of work to get him to trust us, and right up to the end, he was always wary of people.
It takes a lot of patience to tame a feral cat. When I took him to our vet for the rest of his shots and an exam, I noted a front shoulder that seemed to bother Shadow and we suspected that he had been kicked or flung at some point. I remember her telling the cat he was lucky because he was going to a good home. The only time I could hold him without struggling was at the vet. He was especially skittish around men, and I figure the boyfriend of the woman who had taken him in must have been the abusive culprit. He was never an easy cat to work with, but we did what we could for him.
In the early weeks, had a few accidents in the house where Shadow would find a potty spot for himself, but we forgave him after all he had been through. For the first couple weeks into having him with us, I would scoop him out of his carrier at regular intervals and take him kicking and scratching me to the bathroom, where we keep the litter pan. The door shut, he would squat in there eyeing me in fear while I sat on the edge of the tub talking quietly to him. As time went on, he would use the litter and come out of it to watch me warily from across the floor. Now and then, he'd venture a bit nearer, and I would make soothing noises and put my hand down to be sniffed. The first time I heard him purr, I wanted to cry - it was like he had forgotten how. He made a sound like an old car coughing to life and then a staccato series of rumbles came out of his throat. He began to arch and brush against my legs, and I knew we had finally made our peace with one another. I had tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat that this frightened little guy had finally relaxed enough to realize I was not going to hurt him. He was always secretive and jumpy, but eventually he did show some affection to us. To the end he had the loudest purr I have ever heard - you could hear him across the room.
Shadow was never all that friendly with people, and unless you had food he mostly ignored us. He had the best begging eyes I have ever seen, and I got him to the point where he would sit nearby and accept a tidbit from me without clawing my hand. If he had food, I could pet him a bit. My mother is the one who feeds the cats most of the time, and the last couple of years he would sit with her and purr himself to sleep. Seldom was I ever graced with his presence and he would bolt away when anyone else approached. Shadow never quite lost his fear of humans, but he loved other cats, and snuggling with them was something he relished. He and Barney became special pals and they were often seen cuddled up together.
Little Katy was very old when this picture was taken, and her fur was thin, so she put aside her dignity and reserved nature to snuggle with the boys. Barney watched over Kate, and Shadow watched over Barney. We lost Katy back in 2007, and Barney earlier last year. Poor Shadow was bereft after Barney's absence and he never became close to any of the other cats.
Shadow did try snuggling a bit with Oreo though, and that was OK to a point...
I guess Oreo is just not the cuddling type. Oreo loves to hunt and he is often outdoors, so they didn't spend much time together. Barney was more of an indoor cat. Shadow never liked being outdoors all that much, and would only ask to go out on warm and sunny days in the late spring, summer, or early fall - often following Barney. Once out there he rarely left the backyard. If a bird flew over, Shadow would cringe in fright, and sometimes cling to the back door screen, begging to be let inside. He had a tiny, high-pitched 'mew' that sounded more like a kitten. He also didn't like eating with the other cats, and so most of the time we fed him separately, on an old computer desk where we prep the foods and fill the dishes. Shadow was always the first one there when it was feeding time.
You can see him eyeing me here because I am getting much too close.
The last couple of years, Shadow became very attached to my mother, who is the primary feeder of pets. He would follow her with his eyes when she was in the room, and slink over to sit with her as soon as she plopped down. When she was busy, he would sit somewhere nearby and wait for her, scuttling after her as she walked past. Ma gets up early in the morning, and the pets all mill around her, waiting to be fed. At night when she would go to bed, Shadow would return to whatever his favorite berth was for the night - sometimes a corner of closet, a particular chair, and old box, or the top of a storage container. Deep in the night, some feral part of him would awaken and he'd decide his claws needed sharpening. So he would find a box to dig into or a plastic bag to shred and spend the next fifteen minutes making confetti. If you came looking for him, you'd find him standing on hindlegs all stretched out, claws fully extended, eyes wide and glowing wildly. He'd glare at you demonically without recognition before he bolted off. I don't know what night terrors woke him but it happened almost every single night at some point, and some mornings we'd find bits of paper or plastic in shreds and the telltale signs of claw marks. No matter what we provided for him to scratch on, the boxes and bags were always better.
Most of my cats go outdoors and they hunt. Barney was declawed and never very ambitious, but he poked around outside a bit. Shadow's only kill was a dizzy moth that came too close to him in the kitchen. He seemed more surprised than the moth was. He actually jumped away when he saw it was dead. If it didn't come in a bag or can, it wasn't edible. What little time he spent outside was mostly soaking up some rays. Even when we had construction going on and our roof was being torn off, Shadow stayed indoors, racing from the kitchen where he loved to be at the time to the curtained-off livingroom, where he cringed under the computer desk we used to have in there. When the demolition was done, he came right back.
After we lost Barney last year, Shadow seemed rather lonesome. The other two cats, Oreo and Max, spend a lot of time outdoors, and so he was left inside a lot. He took to sitting with my mother all day long, crawling into her lap as soon as she plopped down. He also begged food from me, sitting on the arm of my recliner and watching my plate. Those few of us who are home in the evenings often eat dinner together in front of the TV, and he would join me every night, purring loudly and hoping for tidbits. I would force him to let me pet him before he got anything, but yeah, I spoiled him. Sometimes at the table, he'd hop onto my lap, his claws digging up my leg as he nervously waited to be fed. Not a good habit, but quite an accomplishment for a cat that had previously bolted as soon as I came into the room. I had hoped to fully tame him, but that never happened.
When we brought the kittens Merlin and Mischief into the household, Shadow hid in my mother's closet for a couple of weeks when he was not being fed. He had a similar reaction to Autumn, our new puppy, except he picked a favorite high perch to watch her suspiciously from. With the new pets and my having had a lot of doctor's appointments and medical tests insterspersed with gardening and chores, it was a busy year for me, and I didn't realize I had gotten completely off schedule with pet checkups and innoculations. And then came the harvest, and the holidays, and so on...
We are still not sure what happened to Shadow. Over the last several weeks he developed a limp in one of his rear legs that progressed to a hitch in his walk when he would first leap down from his chair or a table. Not surprising at about 8-9 years old, considering his past history of abuse and neglect. He had no visible injury and I could feel no lumps or abnormalties in his sleek body, and he was still able to run from room to room, so I decided to watch and see what happened. The holidays were upon us, and I was cramming to get things done as it was.
And then during Christmas week the hitch became a stagger and a weird weaving way of walking, like his hindquarters weren't working properly. That got my attention. He also wasn't eating that much. Of course by then my regular vet was on vacation, and wouldn't be back until after the new year. We talked about taking him to the emergency clinic but it is a 40 minute drive away, and it was snowing like mad. New Year's Eve Shadow was very bad, he was stumbling and unable to walk properly, so we knew we now had something serious. He either jumped or fell off a the feeding table and then had some sort of seizure. Yowling, he raced through the house dragging his uncooperative hindquarters, twisting and scrambling about, and scaring the daylights out of us. Brian cornered him and got him under control, and we put him safely in a big pet carrier with a blanket and some water. He lay there dazed with big shocked eyes, and a blank stare that said he had no clue what had just happened. Obviously he needed to see a vet, and I was kicking myself for not taking him in sooner. Later that evening Brian transferred Shadow to the puppy crate in his bedroom, where he would have more room to stretch out and a quiet place of his own. The puppy slept in Jason's room, and Brian slept with his door closed so the other pets would leave Shadow alone. He had several more seizures that night, not as bad, but with writhing, biting, and flopping around involved. Something was very wrong with him.
So Friday, New Year's Day, Frank (OH) and (#2 son) Brian took Shadow to the emergency vet clinic while I cooked our dinner. We figured it could be diabetes or kidney failure, and I had authorized them to do whatever was necessary. Both of those are pretty much a downhill journey for any cat, but would be a death senstence for one this hard to handle. Brian had already sadly dug Shadow a grave through the snow and frozen ground up back, where many former pets were buried, and we all said our tearful goodbyes. It was a long wait at that rather expensive clinic, and Shadow had bloodwork and a full exam. The vet on duty was mystified because all his values came back as a healthy cat. He had no lumps or deformities of the hip or spine that could be felt, and he was normal in every way except not being able to walk and having some bad teeth. With the reported seizures (which only we saw) it was chalked up to something neurological and best followed up on by our vet, though they were eager to keep him all weekend and do hundreds of dollars worth of testing in the meantime. The boys said no, we will take him home and make him comfortable until Monday. So Shadow was given some antibiotic liquid to be administered by syringe to help forestall the gum infection, and home he came.
Shadow was still basically unable to walk or stand very much, so we caged him again and hoped for the best. Twice a day, we had to drag him out and wrap him up so that he didn't struggle too hard and we could force his gums apart and squirt a dose of antibiotic liquid into his mouth. He fought us tooth and nail, and I still have some deep claw marks on my shoulder, and Brian does on his hands and arms. He also urinated all over us as soon as we picked him up, whether it was nerves or loss of control I couldn't tell. I had to wash up and change clothing afterward. Shadow did get a little better and began to eat soft food, and he eventually used the litter pan to defecate, but he was urinating all over himself and his blankets. Thank goodness the crate has the thick plastic bottom. He was still having mini seizures where his head would go down and he'd twitch. The small progress was encouraging, but my gut instincts said this was not enough.
By Sunday night, I knew we weren't going to get lucky this time. He was just not standing for more than a few minutes, and getting up was difficult. Monday morning I called our vet bright and early, and we got him in for 9:45, since they only x-ray in the AM - it is a small office with only one room for each function, and some things have to be done on a certain schedule. But I respect my vet, and I trust her judgement, and we have been in this situation many times over the years.
As promised the clinic had faxed over Shadow's treatment records, and Betsy went over them carefully, not wanting to duplicate what was already done. He was soaked in urine again when we took him out of the carrier. She examined Shadow very carefully as we held him down, not finding any deformities or lumps that would give us a reason to do any further testing. She took his temp and vitals. She listened to what we told her, and watched Shadow try to walk when we put him on the floor; noting that he was unable to use his left rear leg at all, the right one being very rigid too. Without all the expensive tests like ultrasounds and CAT scans, there was no way to know for sure, but Betsy felt it was a brain tumor or something neurological of that nature, and the kindest thing to do would be to end his suffering now, since there was little else we could do for him. It was only going to get worse anyway.
The saddest thing in the world is having to sign a death sentence for a cherished pet. I have had cats I've been much closer to, but Shadow was a special case because of his background. I wanted him to have a happy old age, and not end this way, struggling just to go on. He wasn't ready to die, we could see he wanted to live, and that was why he was dragging himself around as best he could. Whenever he saw my mother, he would still purr loud and happily, and while it broke her heart to do so, she came and visited with him in confinement, and even held him a bit. She didn't come with us to the vet, because watching an euthanasia is not easy for any of us, and I worry about her blood pressure as it is. We made sure she had a chance to say a tearful goodbye before we left the house. Everyone who stayed home did and she had people with her.
Because of how hard he was to handle, Betsy decided to give Shadow a sedative before the more lethal injection. It should have put him almost catatonic, but he was fighting it. He also fought the final injection, and we had to hold him steady as he hissed, growled, and thrashed. I cried my eyes out, it hurt so much to see an animal that clearly wanted to live so fiercely, who had such a rough start in life, and to know there was little hope for him to have any kind of quality existence. But I wanted to be there to the end, and I'm glad I was again, as I have been so many times, though his last moments will haunt me the rest of my life. Always the difficult one, Shadow took a long time drifting away, but eventually he did pass, and thankfully without all the pain and suffering we all knew were ahead of him. I've lost 4 cats and a dog in the last 2 years, 3 of those pets this calendar year alone, and many more preceded them. I was there for each one, and it still hurts just as fiercely as the very first time I had to say goodbye to a dearly loved animal companion.
The sadder part was what came next - we couldn't take Shadow home with us. The clinic had noted he was behind on his rabies shot, and that was possibility for his medical issues. Betsy's records agreed, it had been over a year. Rabies vaccination for cats and dogs is required here by state law after a 10 year serious outbreak in the 90s. So, she strongly recommended that we turn Shadow's body over to the local health board to be sent to the state lab for testing. Rabies can only be diagnosed by examining brain tissue, which means skull dissection, and you don't get your pet back afterward. I knew I was to blame for getting behind, and now I had to protect my family, my other pets, and my vet, on the outside chance that somehow this mostly indoor cat had contracted something the others had missed. So I said OK, we'll do that, and she boxed him up in a plastic foam container sealed with tape with the necessary paperwork taped to the top. And off we went to take the poor guy on his last ride.
We had to wait a day and a half, but the results were negative. I was relieved to hear it, even though I wasn't really expecting a more sinister outcome. I still feel very badly that because I was disorganized and not attentive enough, Shadow didn't at least get a proper interment near his best kitty pal Barney, but what counts is the memories, which even you can see in the above photos. We will have to content ourselves that we took in a cat that had started life with little to hope for, and gave him 5-1/2 really good years of life and plenty of love and TLC. He didn't come home at the end, but at least he was here for a good long time, where he was pampered and spoiled. He is missed and will not be forgotten any time soon. Looking around the house I can see places that are autographed with his signature claw marks. I can still picture him sitting there with those big green gold eyes, begging for a scrap to be tossed his way, or curled up with Barney in a box too small for even one cat. His food pan has been washed and set aside for another feline rescue that will likely come home to live with us someday.
Those of us who believe in more than a mundane existence know that while the body passes on, the spirit of what was remains, and I don't think that just applies to humans only. Shadow left a legacy here, and it taught us that with love and patience, you can conquer just about anything fearful but death itself. I am glad that he graced our lives for as long as he did. If there is an afterlife for cats, I hope his is happy and comfortable, without the constant fear of pain and betrayal. And I hope he found Barney again to cuddle with once he has slipped silently over that Rainbow Bridge.
This is the last picture I could find of Shadow, taken back in September - likely one of the last times he went outdoors this year. Goodbye dear little one, we miss you just as much as the others that passed before.
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