Re: 4/7 Willie AMPS 125, +2~113/133, +3~114, 4 mo. ann. (lon
Today is our 4 month anniversary of the beginning of our sugardance, and Willie and I are celebrating!! Willie may not be OTJ, but his spreadsheet shows the tremendous progress he's made during that time, and the kitty curled up next to me shows me every day that on that day, we started on a path towards making his life better.
I’m not sure of the extent to which I’ve shared Willie’s story, so I thought that today would be a fitting moment. In June of 1997, I dropped out of a PhD program, moved to Nashville to live with my then-boyfriend (we’ll call him “the ex”) and began working a horrible retail management job. Life was meh. On the second Thursday in November, it got REALLY cold for the first time that year (and Nashville seldom gets REALLY cold, especially that early!). It was around 8:00pm, and the ex and I were coming home from the store. He went in ahead of me to open the door, and as he came back towards the car to help me with whatever packages we had, we saw this small, scrawny blur of gray and white go streaking into the house. When we came in, this long, skinny bundle of grey and white fur greeted us from the sofa with a loud “Hi, Friends!! I live here now!!” meow. We, of course, were immediately smitten, but the ex firmly told me that we were NOT keeping him and that because I was off the next day, my mission was to go find his rightful owners. We ran out and got him some food and put down some water, and the little furball gratefully partook. He then inspected every inch of our place, confirming that everything was exactly where he thought it was.
The next day, the kitten and I hung out all morning, having slept with him curled up next to my head all night. We lived in a large complex of townhouses, and I checked the mailbox for flyers, knocked on a few doors and talked to one person. I called the ex, who said I was to keep looking, but that he would bring home a litterbox after he was finished on campus (he was an instructor). We were NOT, however, keeping him. When the ex returned home with the litterbox a couple hours later, the little furball squealed a “meow!!” of relief, jumped in, and peed for like 5 minutes!! The poor guy had been holding it so as not to be rude to his new housemates. After about two more days of me pretending to look for the kitten’s owners, the ex finally sighed and said “well, I guess we should take him to the vet and get him checked out. I guess, for now, we can keep him.” From that moment, he was dubbed Willie after the ex’s alma mater’s mascot, Willie the Wildcat (who is also white with a gray mask).
The ex traveled a lot for work, and I worked crazy hours, and Willie clearly hated being alone, but when he had a human around, he was the most furry purriest bundle of playful joy you'd ever seen. He had quirks... demanding to drink from a human glass, thinking he was a dog... being afraid of birds... that was our Willie. Then, one day the following summer, I came home one day to a stressed out ex and Willie. The ex had brought home some boxes and had begun packing up things for goodwill. Poor Willie had a complete meltdown. Our suspicion is that his previous owners had moved from the complex and just didn’t take Willie with them. The poor little guy thought it was happening all over again. After many reassurances, we finally decided in late September that Willie needed a friend, and we adopted Miss Jezebelle from Petsmart. At first, Willie was not amused. She wasn’t allowed to be on the bed with him. Then, she could be on the bed, but couldn’t touch him (with violations met with a firm smack and a push off the bed!). Fast forward 12 years (during through most of which, the ex and I remained very good friends), moves to Kansas, Florida, and back to Kansas/Missouri, 6 different homes, and the two were inseparable, having never spent a day apart until the day Miss Belle went to bridge just days after Willie’s diagnosis.
During that time, I loved both kitties with all my life, but Miss Belle was my girl. She was my feline doppelganger, and there was just a bond there. Willie had always been a daddy’s boy. For years, if the ex was over to visit, I was chopped liver. But through our shared grief over Miss Belle’s loss and his treatment, a bond has formed that is positively unshakable. Last night, as I started to type this, Willie and I had a talk, as he sat at the end of the sofa chaise. I told him how proud I was of him, how special he was, that I was the luckiest bean in the world to have him in my life. Each statement was met with an almost indiscernible head bow and a wink. When I lastly told him that I hoped he knew that he was loved more than any kitty could possibly ever be loved, I swear, he grinned from ear to ear and gave me a “rightbackatcha” head nod. It was one of the most deeply personal and amazing moments I’ve ever experienced, and one I will remember for all my days.
In the past three months, Willie's body, and more importantly, his spirit, have been restored. When Willie is happy, the base of his tail shakes so hard it looks like it is vibrating. While before, that was an occasional occurrence, he now walks around all day "shakin' his tailfeathur." He engages in spontaneous play no less than 3-4 times a day, every day. This morning, he even got in a session before btb cuddles could ensue. He is the first being to tell you like it is if he has something to say, and the first being to cuddle up and love on you when he knows you need it. Four months ago, if you'd told me that Willie would have this level of quality of life today, I'd laugh and tell you that you were dreaming. And yet, somehow, I look at my boy and see him living the life he had a decade ago. Sure, his vertical isn't as high, and his naps are at times a bit more frequent and lengthy, but he is living the life.
I said this in a newbie's thread over in Health awhile ago, but the way it came out stuck with me. Willie is at least 14, likely 15, he suffers from diabetes and pemphigus, two chronic conditions that for many cats, are lifetime illnesses. On paper, and to those who've never met him, Willie is "old" and "sick."
Too bad nobody ever sent him the memo.
we've all got our "We're not keeping him/her" stories, hmmm?
