February 19, 2021
And just like that we are now a Pride of only Three Plus One. My most beloved furbaby soulmate Pa’u Zotoh Zhan journeyed the transition of life to death yesterday afternoon here at home, lying on top of me as she had been doing for months now attended by Dr. Jessika Lais of Compassionate Care Pet Euthanasia Service. Only two weeks and a day from her bonded buddy Ka D’Argo. Their ashes will be spread on the same lovely property in Camas, WA. May they find rest together.
In the end, Zhan’s spirit was still extraordinarily strong. But there was no doubt or question that her frail body had run its course and could no longer to sustain her huge life spirit. The veterinarian called with the lab results—Zhan had gone into full kidney failure of which there was no further treatment. It was definitely her time to go.
Presently, I am broken. My heart aches. My spirit is lost. My body feels numb. I grieve the lose of both my elder kitties most deeply. I sense it intensely after spending days nursing Zhan, allowing her full reign. She wanted to spend most of the time resting on top of my chest while I loved her up. I’d get up when she got up. When she’d look at me as if to say, “Why aren’t you where I need to be so I can rest on you?” I’d feel instantly guilty and return to bed so she could have her resting spot on top of me.” The other three kitties came in turns, sniffing at her. They all seemed to know she was extremely ill. Ed also came in frequently to check on her and me—see if we needed anything.
The energy in the house is so quiet and still. Of the kitties, Qui-Gon Jinn seems to be the most effected by losing Zhan. He had been cuddling and napping with her a lot, especially since D’Argo’s death. He comes over to me, looking around and back at me as if to say, “Where is she? Where is my girlfriend and cuddle buddy Zhan?” All three remaining kitties, Penguin Pi, Qui-Gon Jinn, and Sweet Baby Grey don’t quite seem to know exactly what’s what. I know there will be a shift in the dynamics between the three now that the elder kitties are gone. But the shifting hasn’t started to occur just yet.
Zhan was not my kitty as much as I was her human. She most emphatically chose me. Just a part of what made Zhan so very special!
To be continued…
February 22, 2021
When our beloved Isha died, I took to my bed for nearly two months, grieving. She had followed me home from a walk in Santa Clara Park. She was starved, skinny, dirty, only about four months old. She was either lost or had been dumped in the park. She was most engaging! I saw her following an elderly couple along a path that I was walking towards them. They were doing their very best to ignore her attempts to gain their attention. They passed me, but I engaged with her:
“Hello, Little One. What are you doing here all by yourself?”
She shifted her attention to me instantly, started meowing and telling me her tales of woe. I picked her up and she had a strong purr motor indeed. Despite her hunger, she was strong spirited, even willful. I put her down and kept walking. She followed me, mewing. I kept talking to her and her back at me. She followed me home, mewing to be picked up when she ran out of energy. I’d hold her for a bit, then she’s squirm to get down again. I obliged her. She’d follow again, mewing the entire way until her hind legs would give out on her again. I’d pick her up again. We did this routine several times on the mile walk home. At that point in my life, I was so busy in chiropractic school, I didn’t have much else in my life. Certainly no pets. Fourth year student, I had no extra money. But this day, this four-month-old kitten was most emphatic that I was her human, I could not say no to her within 12 hours of her being in my home. I managed to get food, water, a litter box, scratching post and a few toys lined up for her. I managed to get her vetted and back to full health. I named her Isha—short and feminized for Ishmael, the wanderer. She responded to the name, so I knew that was indeed her name.
She was about a year and a half when Palmer Pi came into our lives the day after the Loma Pieta earthquake. He had been trapped under some decking on campus at Palmer College of Chiropractic West—perhaps abandoned by his queen or ran willy-nilly during the earthquake and became disoriented as so many animals do. We never knew his origins. He didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to disturb Dr. Souza’s Differential Diagnosis class with this kitten screaming for help. I’m to understand Dr. Souza finally gave up and declared, “Will someone find that damned cat!” Some fellow students managed to get the kitten out from under the decking and took him over to the Faculty Clinic. Dr. Simeka called me at home in a tizzy. I could hear the kitten screaming hysterically in the background. Dr. Simeka: “Tera, could you please come help me? I know about dogs, but I don’t know any thing about kittens.” I told her I’d be there in five minutes.
I walked into the Faculty Clinic to find Dr. Simeka looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable with this tiny kitten climbing all over her in her smartly polished, professional suit. I could hardly hold back a laugh as I smiled, “Let me have the baby.” I peeled the tiny, two-pound some ounces, spiky-furred, squalling kitten with gray eyes off her, tucking him up under my long hair on my shoulder next to my neck. He could hear my pulse, feel my warmth, listening to me sooth him with soft, calming tone of voice, patting and petting him gently as I spoke to him. He went from screaming, to loud, to complaining, finally calming enough to find his purr. He finally relaxed knowing he was safe. Dr. Simeka and I spoke about how broke I was and that I could not afford another kitty. She offered to split the cost of the initial veterinary bill to have him vetted so it would be safe to take him home, in isolation away from Isha at first. Once again, I conceded, taking in the tiny waif. Dr. Simeka suggested naming him Palmer. I added the Pi. Palmer Pi, my alma mater kitty.
Isha and Palmer Pi were very bonded to one another to the day of Isha’s death (at age 18+ years old) and beyond. Palmer Pi (17 years old) grieved so—as if he didn’t know how to do his life without his bonded buddy. As much as I grieved Isha’s death, Palmer Pi never recovered. He died just six months after Isha, like an old, long-time married couple.
After Isha’s death, I had thought it best not to get new kitties until after Palmer Pi was gone. But when I discussed the situation with Dr. Paul, the kitties’ veterinarian, he suggested Palmer might do well to have a young companion or two to help him get over his grief of losing Isha.
After considering Dr. Paul’s recommendation, I set out to adopt a pair of kittens which lead me to a non-profit foster home full of kitties of various ages up for adoption. I showed up by appointment ready with treats and toys in hand. The colony of kitties enjoyed the treats, some enjoyed the toys too. I went there to meet a litter of kittens not quite weaned to see if I wanted to adopt a pair of them once they were ready. They were still too young, their personalities weren’t yet apparent. After the foster mom put the kittens back with their queen, I sat and we talked. She wanted to get to know me, our home situation to make certain it was suitable for adoption of a couple of her kitties. I was happy to introduce myself and describe my home situation and tell her Isha and Palmer’s story.
I was sitting on the stairs when I felt the brush of silky fur on the back of my legs. I lifted my skirt enough to see a pair of sharp jade green eyes looking back at me. I said, “Well, hello there. Who are you?” This sleek, black adolescent kitten quietly walked out from under my skirt, looking up at me intently. Silently, she jumped up onto my lap, stepped up onto my chest with her forepaws, got up into my face, gave me a few good sniffs, leaned back and went limp. Trusting me to catch her as she dropped into my arms, else she’d have fallen to the ground in a thump. She started to purr, completely and trustingly limp in my arms. She looked back at me with those gorgeous green eyes as if to say, “You are my human. You can take me home now.” And so I did. The foster mom had named her Tiki. But it did not suit her. When I asked her what she thought of the name Zhan, she responded to it. And so she became Pa’u Zhan Tiki Silk, but later grow out of that name and into her adult name of Pa’u Zotoh Zhan, her name sake from the TV fantasy series Farscape. She loved being cooed at: “I love my Pa’u Zhan! I love my precious Pa’u!” She’d cuff and purr and trill back at me. A very mutual love!
After appropriate time in isolation, I introduced Zhan to Palmer Pi. He was a curmudgeon to her but tolerated her in due time.
A month after I adopted Zhan, I got a call from the same foster mom. She said she had a buff orange, male kitten, just weaned and ready to be adopted. Did I want to come meet him? I jumped at the opportunity as I really love the temperament of ginger cats!
The foster mom greeted me at her door with this tiny handful of kitten. He had a broad head, thick neck, and ears so large they drooped down to the sides of his head – looking rather like a Yoda kitty. I took one look at that large head, thick neck and big ears: “My my! Aren’t you going to be a tank!” And thus, eight-week-old, still blue-eyed D’Argo came into our lives.
Now you know their stories. My beloveds. I miss them all so.
