Whoever came up with the “cats-have-9-lives” theory was on to something. My cat Francie (photo to left) is 10 years old and has used up more than a few. She’s been with me since I adopted her at the San Diego Humane Society when she was 6 months old.
Who knew then that she was so sick? Within 3 days she would be in a critical care ward at Helen Woodward Animal Clinic, with a diagnosis of complications from being spayed, a respiratory infection, ear mites, 108 degree fever and a reminder from the Vet that if she lived, she’d most likely be brain damaged because of the high fever.
I was tempted to put her down so that she wouldn’t suffer and because of the potential expense, but after the loss of our 16 year old cat 3 months earlier, my partner wisely suggested we take a different approach. He would pay, I would nurse. I went to visit her every day 3x a day, sitting with her, petting her, and asking her to live. By day 4 I was ready to give up.
In frustration, I looked her straight in the eyes while she laid lethargically in an aluminum pie pan to keep her cool, and said plaintively, “Francie, why aren’t you getting better?!” The first thing I heard back in my mind was, “You’ll just dump me like the others did.” I was startled because I wouldn’t have imagined such a direct answer, let alone an answer like that. I had read about animal communication, so didn’t dismiss it, but wasn’t sure how to respond.
Whether or not it was my imagination talking, I stroked her fur again and said with certainty to her, “I will always make sure you are safe and have a home. I promise.” I left the clinic and went home intrigued by my mind’s response, wondering if animals really do communicate that way, and praying for a miracle.
An hour later I received a call from the clinic telling me that, surprisingly, Francie’s fever had finally broken. The next morning I went to visit her and found her on all fours for the first time in five days and meowing loudly, tail up and twittering. The Vet told me she was ready to go home.
The following month was like a triage room in a hospital with everything we did to help her heal - steam showers to open her lungs, intravenous drip hydration, drugs to stimulate her sense of smell so she would eat, antiobiotic liquid down her throat, eye drops and ear drops, heating pad to keep her warm. I wondered if it was worth it for a cat when so many humans die alone without medical care because they can’t afford it. I didn’t have an answer for that other than choosing to focus on how blessed I and Miss FrancieCat are, and to have given my time to pet therapy in nursing homes.
Francie surprised us all with her resilience. Outside of occasional stress colds and allergies, and a little extra sensitivity to sounds, which makes her a great watch-cat, she is a sweet, little 9 pound smiling purrbox who makes me laugh every day and brings everyone who meets her a smile.
How about you? Do you have a favorite memory with an animal that makes you smile? Tell me their name and share your story in the comment box. I’d love to hear from you.
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