The Joy of Living with Rescued Cats

My family has been rescuing cats for as long as I can remember. I grew up next to a dairy farm in upstate New York, and since I was a little girl, there were always cats that would wander onto our property. My Mom in particular loved cats, and she would always feed and take care of any feline that would show up looking for a meal and a safe place to spend the night.

My whole family, Mom, Dad, myself and my sister, all fell in love with the cats that would show up at our door looking for help. Along the way, we lived with quite a few felines, some becoming beloved members of the family. (I always like to say we live with our animals, I don't feel like we "have" or "own" our pets, because they are part of the family.)

Sparkle, a black and white "Tuxedo cat" and the family's most recent adoption, had quite a rocky road before she came to live with our family. She belonged to our neighbors, and when they fell on tough times, they couldn't care for her as before. Sparkle (named for her exceptionally bright and sparkly eyes) would hang around at our back door, looking for food and a warm bed. One day Mom realized Sparkle was pregnant and feared what would happen to her when the neighbors moved.

The neighbors moved away and left Sparkle behind, so Mom decided to bring her inside to live with the family. That made a grand total of four rescued cats living in my family's not so big house in the rural Hudson Valley (Sparkle's kittens were given to the local humane society and Sparkle was spayed, and is now solely an indoor cat.)

The small home I grew up in sometimes feels like it's bursting at the seams with cats. Sparkle, rescued in 2000, is now about ten years old and living a life of leisure in our home. She joins sisters Petey and Puddin' who are now both fourteen years old (yes, not a typo, this female cat is named Petey.)

Fourteen years ago, I dearly loved a cat named Sugar, who gave birth to a set of kittens: one the color of a bowl of dark chocolate pudding (hence Puddin') and the other Tabby cat so aggressive I named her Petey, before the vet told me she was actually a female! Sugar went out one day before the kittens were weaned, and was hit by a car on the major highway in front of our house.

As I was deep in grief for Sugar, Mom and I wondered what on earth we would do for Petey and Puddin'. How would they survive without Sugar to nurse and nurture them? The answer turned out to be round the clock bottle feedings. I remember shuttling between my apartment and home, trying to help Mom with all the care and feeding of the sisters (born only a few moments apart.)

All the bottle feedings, and baby food, and cuddling and extra love and attention, produced an exceptionally close bond with these two sisters. My Mom and I are very close to these pair of cats. In fact, the whole family is so close to the girls, I wonder what we'll do when the time comes to say goodbye.

Petey, who'll be fifteen next March, is a little overweight and arthritic, and doesn't get around the house like she used to. Puddin' on the other hand is light as a feather and more active than ever. However, Puddin' has one cloudy, opaque eye and is probably going blind in the other also. But this doesn't stop her from tearing around the house with great joy; just like her sister, she is full of love and living each day to the fullest.

I feel like the cats become sweeter with age. There is a richness and beauty to spending years living with and loving an animal who is your constant companion. Getting a kitten is the early part of the journey. Then as the years go by, your love for your mature cat grows and deepens into an unshakable, sacred bond.

My family recently faced a challenge with the health of our fourth cat, Tigger. Tigger is a beautiful but feisty white cat with some adorable black markings. We found him abandoned on our property as a kitten twelve summers ago, and since then, he's been my Dad's constant companion.

When my Dad retired a few years ago, he began to spend more and more time with Tigger. His daily routine seemed to include even more time caring for our animals. I watch my parents getting older, at the same time our beloved pets are aging also. It makes me think about how time is passing, every moment is precious and how these tiny little joyful moments that make up our daily lives should be savored.

A few weeks ago, Tigger was suddenly in pain. He was unable to walk without distress, and though he ate and drank, he seemed to be suffering and spent most of the day curled up, trying to sleep. We saw three separate vets at the animal hospital where we've been taking the cats for fourteen years. Except for saying the blood tests showed he had some sort of infection, they all seemed to agree Tig was suffering and we had reached a dead end.

It was devastating to see my big, strong father cry when he talked about whether it was time to euthanize Tigger, because the cat was clearly suffering without hope of recovery. My Dad made arrangements to euthanize Tigger, and took him to the animal hospital to say goodbye on a Saturday morning. Dad agonized whether or not to take Tig's body to Buddy's Place, where a loving couple runs a service that cremates animals and spreads their ashes in the garden there. Or should he bring Tigger home and bury him in the back yard, with some other pets who are on buried our land?

The plan was made to relieve Tig of his suffering and bury him in a shady peaceful spot on our property. As I've grown older and lived with a lot of pets, I've realized that being a pet caretaker encompasses caring for your cat from cradle to grave, just as we do for our human family. There are decisions to be made at all phases of life, and loving an animal means being there for your pet, constantly acting in their best interests, even when it's time to let go and say goodbye.

Dad had a huge surprise when he took Tigger for that final ride to the vet. Since Tig had bit my Dad a few days before while Dad was trying to give him prednisone for the pain, the vet told us we had to wait ten days to put him to sleep, to make sure Tig didn't have rabies. Tig is an indoor cat, so that's impossible, but it's a New York State law, just a precaution. If Dad wanted to put him down without waiting, the cat would have to be turned over to the authorities for rabies testing.

This was unthinkable for my father, so he brought Tigger home to wait it out for another agonizing week, until the next Saturday when Tig could be euthanized. Then something miraculous happened. After a day or two, all the injections of antibiotics and painkillers and prednisone started to take hold, and Tig started moving around more. As the eventful Saturday approached, Tig seemed better and better.

My family is overjoyed that Tig had nothing short of a miraculous recovery. Doctors couldn't really explain it. My theory is that fate stepped in and saved Tigger because he wasn't really ready to go.

Tig still wanders the house, and he likes to sneak around and peek in doorways and observe family members sleeping when they don't realize they're being watched. The sisters sleep together all day, nestled against each other in their furry cat bed just like they must have been in their mother's womb. Sparkle likes to hang around my Dad's basement and in between her frequent naps, she watches the bunny that has come to live in the bush outside her window.

So that's life with four rescued cats, and I wouldn't trade its joys for anything. The only downside is the knowledge that I must eventually say goodbye to my beloved felines, but that's part of the journey, gracefully letting go when the time comes.

If you are interested in adopting a rescued cat, don't forget the mature felines as well as the kittens. I believe that older cats make just as wonderful companions as kittens do. Whether you adopt a mature cat or a young kitten, one thing is for certain, there is nothing like the joy of living with and giving your heart to a rescued cat that is waiting for your love.