My First Dependent

I adopted a beautiful kitten, whom I named Quaker, after searching in encyclopaedias, (yes, it was that long ago), for a cool, and unusual name. Accomplished! My first pet, as a independent, working, woman. She grew up in my apartment, and therefore, was an inside kitty. Unfortunately, for all of my family, she became a cranky kitty, with an attitude. I never had a problem with her. She didn’t scare me.

In the corner of my living room, I had a ginormous dieffenbachia, (no joke), in a ginormous pot. A lipstick plant used to live at the bottom of the dieffenbachia, but, eventually died, leaving visible dirt. It did not matter what I used to deter the cat, she would stir up that dirt, making a mess on my carpet. Of course, this was done while I was at work. After several store-bought, trial runs with disincentives, and failing, I had one left to test. Some sort of twist-tie with a deterrent attached, was tied to the bottom stalk of the plant. When I came home from work, I found it chewed up, by the front door. Years later, someone told me I should have put large rocks at the base of the plant. Shoulda, woulda, coulda!

My friend would cat-sit for me, when I went away. Quaker would race around on her quilt, and put little picks in it. Needless to say, she was not very happy about that. I thank you, friend, from the bottom of my heart, for looking after my kitty.

When we moved to North Vancouver, she went out in the backyard. She didn’t venture very far, as she was getting older, and was a bit sickly. Her weight increased, and she had bad arthritis. She was still cranky though, but, not to me, nor to repair men. A weird attraction to repair men, she had. Quaker was diagnosed with diabetes, so she went on a diabetic diet, and I had to test her blood, and give her insulin. Oh, joy. Her health was not improving, and one lady vet, suggested to the girl at the desk, that owners should not be overfeeding their pets. I should have, in no uncertain terms, given her my thoughts on that. However, at the time, I was completely taken aback, and had no response.

The next vet I took her to, was a naturopathic vet. She decided that Quaker was allergic to the diabetic diet. (Huge, sigh). I put her on the ‘raw food diet’, and within a week or two, she was off the insulin, and losing weight. Her arthritis improved quite a bit, but, her kidneys were getting the best of her. There was always a wet mess around the cat box.

Quaker had new life in her, and she got another three years of a somewhat healthier life. She was happier, she lost all her extra weight, was more content, could fold her paws under, and didn’t sleep on her back anymore. Happier that is, until we adopted McKay. Notice how they are keeping a close eye on one another. They eventually got used to each other, but, were never good friends. McKay knew her place, Quaker was Queen.

Then comes my first experience, of taking a pet to be put down. She was hurting, and I could see that. Her litter box couldn’t keep up with her, as her kidneys were worsening; from the diabetes and such. I drove her to the naturopath, to have this done. She gave her an exam, and then told me that she would not do it. Quaker could take some pills and have a dramatic recovery. Honestly, I could have screamed, had I not been so emotional, and teary. I marched her off to the other vet; to my relief, they agreed with me, and they put her to sleep.

A gut-wrenching experience, that I know I will have to repeat at some point. In the end, Quaker looked so very peaceful, no more pain, and that made me happy. I know she keeps an eye on me, my beautiful girl.

Just a head’s up, for anyone wishing to get on my nerves: with years of experience under my belt, I will, in a calm, assertive manner, give you my thoughts.

As always, comments are welcomed, and encouraged.