The Cats in My Life: Brudda and Mitsubishi

I was tired that day 14 years ago and glad to finally be home from work. Since my husband had the garage door open, I decided to enter the house that way. Halfway through, I heard a weak cry, silence, then another cry.

Investigating, I discovered a newborn kitten, still in the birth sac, laying on the concrete floor amidst a bloody mess. It cried again, more strongly this time, almost as if it knew help had arrived. I scooped it up, it was icy cold, I thought "hot water", and rushing into the bathroom I began cleaning and massaging its tiny black and white body under the warm water. After about thirty minutes it finally felt warm. Wrapping it in a towel, I continued massaging , I had to save it!

There was a black and white female I'd been feeding. along with her litter mate, a male, also black and white. Just a year old and the female was pregnant. I went looking for her and found her laying in the sun cleaning her newly slim self, totally unconcerned about the baby she'd abandoned on the cold garage floor. It was her first litter (a litter of one ) and I guess some things don't come naturally.
She and her brother brought to me by a neighborhood cat who hid her babies in the woods till they were weaned then took them to a food source and departed. (We called her Boots and you may have already read about her.)

Both sweet tempered but very independent cats. But back to the newborn. It began crying again and I figured it must want to eat. The mother was in front of the house, again laying in the sun, so I took the baby, warm and clean, out to her. Saying "I think this belongs to you" I laid the kitten next to her and retreated to watch from inside. After a few minutes, during which she ignored the kitten, she finally began to groom him. It didn't take the baby long to find a nipple and begin its' life.

The original abandonment forgotten, Mommy and her brother (now Brudda) took wonderful care of the baby, keeping him safe in the bushes around the house. As he grew and began to eat Uncle Brudda hunted, bringing his kills back to the baby, who would give it a poke or two with a paw, maybe a shove or a pounce. Then, having no idea what to do with it, he'd quickly lose interest and wander away. Eventually this changed, of course, and I would find chipmunk tails and mouse feet lined up on the front porch.

I have to tell you I felt so great, I saved a life and, though there are no words that adequately describe the feeling, I will just say it was wonderful. I fell totally in love with the threesome, especially the little guy, he was so cute with his miniature tuxedo and playful ways. I named him "Mitsubishi"because of the three diamonds on his belly, but I called him "bebe" and he'd come running. I would bring him in on the screened porch and play with him and we bonded. I realized later that we really bonded the day I found and cleaned him up.

I had a neighbor who hated cats, chipmunks, squirrels and generally anything that moved. He was constantly setting traps, catching unwary creatures (squirrels, raccoons and on one occasion a rather large skunk) while aiming for the cats and chipmunks. Picture a grown man chasing a chipmunk with a two by four.

The day I saw Mitsubishi (Mits for short) playing near one of the traps I panicked. Calling him (and being ignored because he had an interesting bug or leaf or whatever) I finally got his attention,when he came running I brought him in for the last time, along with Mommie. Two new additions to my group. I'd had Mommie spayed just that week and she still had her stitches. Mommie did not want to be inside, however, running out at every opportunity. Mits seemed to feel at home immediately. I had decided that I would take Brudda to a local agency to be adopted as I already had seven cats, counting Mits and his mom, and my husband was beginning to get perturbed. On the morning I was to take him however, Mommie again broke out, this time ripping the screen on the porch. I had to change my plans and, catching her, took her to the shelter instead of Brudda. I cried when I left her, but hoped someone would adopt her and allow her to be free, not an option in my neighborhood.

Brudda and Mits though devoted to each other, integrated themselves into the house beautifully. Mits, a young Turk, would hide and attack Brudda, they wrestled and roughhoused together, they also curled up together for naps.
More on Mits later, I'll tell Bruddas' story first.

Brudda was just the sweetest cat. He never did anything bad like clawing the furniture, spraying or fighting. He took care of Mits and hung out with the other guys. A really beautiful cat. Fast forward fourteen years.

Today I buried Brudda in back of the house near the porch where he always hung out with the other cats.

About a year ago Brudda dropped a lot of weight, he had become a little chubby and I was happy to see him slim down. He acted fine and ate well so I wasn't really concerned. I had noticed that he had trouble chewing and on a visit to the vets it was confirmed that he had several bad teeth. In the course of the examination the doctor noticed a brown spot in the white of his left eye and we were sent to see an eye specialist.
The eye doctor, tops in her field, diagnosed melanoma and recommended swift surgery to remove the eye and keep the cancer from spreading. After talking to my vet I set the appointment and poor Brudda lost his left eye. I cried, but felt it was worthwhile to save his life. Boy, he hated the car trips and was scared to death of the vets office. (I have an idea that they can smell the illness and suffering there.)

He came home with stitches and an Elizabethan collar he was to wear for two weeks. The doctor assured me she got all of the cancer and Brudda did well after a few days adjusting to his vision loss and the dratted collar (a double whammy and not fair!)
The post surgery exam and blood work were fine, the stitches came out the collar went away and Brudda and I were happy. It was March Spring was here and Brudda had a clean bill of health!

In the beginning of December I decided Brudda had had long enough to recover from the trauma and since he had dropped a little more weight we went back to the dreaded vet to see about getting his teeth cared for. Brudda had only just begun to trust me again. More bad news,the doctor, in her examination, said his intestines felt all lumpy and she needed to do an x-ray to see what was going on. To save Brudda the angst of another trip the film was done right away. You can guess what the results were. Large tumors surrounding his intestines, a biopsy was taken and sent out. The doctor was sure it was cancer and hoped the biopsy would show a slow, non-aggressive type.

The results came back twice saying they couldn't tell the type and the lab wanted another sample. I told the doctor no, I wouldn't put him through that again when it really wouldn't change anything. And she agreed. She put him on progesterone saying it would help if it was the kind of cancer she hoped it was. Brudda had other ideas though and I only got the medicine into him once, then he wouldn't come near me. We tried a special order trans-dermal cream that just got put in his ear. The day it arrived from the lab in Arizona I prepared to administer the first dose. Brudda knew immediately that something was up and ran from me and hid. He stayedhidden,not even coming out to eat.

Everything speeded up then and, of course, he lost more weight. I started putting his food and water in the bedroom where he stayedhe ate a little but not enough.
He was suffering. I felt the loving thing to do was to let him go. I did, seeing it through to the end, I'm very proud of that.

I feel that when you take the responsibility for another life, human or animal, you should care enough to do the hard stuff.

Through my wonderful vet, an arrangements for another vet to come to my home and give Brudda the peaceful, stress free ending he deserved.

I held Brudda while a light sedative was administered, stroking and talking to him. After about five minutes with Brudda now totally relaxed and purring, the doctor asked if I was ready. Through my tears I said yes and the injection was given. I talked to Brudda, kissed him and stroked him. I felt his heart stop and watched his nose turn from pink to white. The doctor said, he's gone.

A hard thing to do; it is easier for the human to take the animal to the vets' office for euthanasia. There are things to do; driving, getting into the office, dealing with the people there, etc. But much harder on the animal, the fright of leaving its' home, the stress and the fear. At home where he spent his fourteen years he was minimally upset and the person he loved, who loved him holding and comforting him as he painlessly drifted away.

Thank God for caring veterinarians who will go out of their way to give comfort and care to both the animal and the human. And thank God I found one!

So, now, rest in peace, Brudda. We'll be together again.