Have you seen this?
http://www.earthlings.com/earthlings/video-full.php
Its beautiful, and painful at the same time....and worth the watch.
Hope this finds you well my friend.
Nikki
Like a porcelain doll …
Posted By Harry on June 18, 2011
She’s fragile. Like a porcelain doll that’s fallen and broken so many times that the glue now sits in lumps at the joins, Tobi’s residual feline leprosy tumours are a reminder of the disease that almost killed her. After 6 weeks of twice daily antibiotics with the leprosy worsening at an exponential rate we stopped the futile therapy. Emotionally prepared ourselves to help her leave when she stopped eating. She never did. She just beat the disease on her own. And had her case detailed in a veterinary journal.
Morning sun highlighting Tobi's burnt-out leprosy
She’s determined. Was it a rolling car tyre, or a misplaced hoof in the shed, or an unexpected fall that damaged her lower spinal cord? That left her with hind legs that can no longer spring her to the heights they used to? That resulted in her maximum reach being the bed where she spends her nights with Sue, Thomas and I … using her claws and front legs to pull her up those last few inches?
Tobi and Thomas in their favourite spot - our bed!
She’s tolerant. Chronic renal failure followed on from the spinal injury and a bladder that didn’t empty normally. So every 2 days we put a needle in the scruff of her neck and inject 120mls of fluid, fluid that’s her life force. And every 2 days as we do so she rubs heads with us. And purrs. Or nibbles at her dinner as if we’re not even there. Every 2 days.
Tobi receiving her fluid
She’s tough. Twice she’s been in feline ICU. Twice we’ve returned to Avondale with heavy hearts having said goodbye just in case the next phone call was a dreaded one. Twice we’ve received good news calls.
She’s smart. She knows the syringes and fluid in the study are her lifeline and if ever she spends a day or early evening outside it’s never on “day 2″. And when she’s feeling poorly and needs more than her regular top-up she fetches us and leads us to the study, ensuring we give her fluid even though she got the full amount just 24 hours earlier. The nature of her requests is unmistakeable.
She’s loveable. It was the great folk at Kingston Veterinary Hospital, specifically the nurses and assistants, who first discovered this: not realising that she was feral when we first took her in they treated her as if she were a domestic cat – repeatedly opening her cage to giver her a rub and a pet. But Tobi was no ordinary domestic cat and her response was very different. “What a beautiful cat she is,” they gushed as we visited her the day after she was spayed. “We’ve never met such an affectionate cat.” (Just 24 hours earlier, fearful of being bitten or scratched, I had used welding gloves to put her in the carrier to take her to the vet!)
Tobi and Sue enjoying a mutual headrub
Tobi. Yet another reminder of the beautiful beings that share this planet with us.
We have a common dream at Avondale: a gentle place for all.
Wow, what a being! Tobi (and Thomas) are folks I would like to meet. You have been gifted with friendship from some seriously terrific Earthlings… Greetings to you all and thank you for being there for them to befriend. Your eloquent writings of them cause me to feel as if I know them.
That’s exactly what it is VE – a gift of incredible friendship. From Tobi who has a quiet but remarkable lust for life, and Thomas whose lust for life is somewhat more vocal – especially at 2 in the morning when he meeows loudly as he enters the bedroom, “HI ALL I’M HERE … OK I’M NOW ON THE BED. CAN I HAVE MY BELLY RUB?”
Thank you for helping Tobi with the last few inches and last few miles of her determined journey. I know the injections aren’t easy on you… And certainly not on her either. Yet it sounds like you all have mutually managed to not let this detract from the more wondrous things of being loved and alive!
And I’m laughing at Thomas’s demand for center stage… Our “Thumbelina” AKA “Cinderella” AKA Teco also makes such claims for her due attention. She is sassy and brilliantly knows how to charm anyone to get her way…
For me there was also Hank – Smartest cat in the world… Knew his toys by name! And Houdini who loved to dance… And Roark who cried “Mom” in a human voice… And Apollo who lived each moment only for the giving of his kitty biscuits accompanied by the loudest purrs in the world.
I don’t know who said it… And I know I’m para-phrasing too… But the question is who is my favorite cat? Always, always the one that’s in my gaze!
Thank you so very much for giving these feline gems a rich and rewarding life – I know it comes back to you a thousand fold!
Hi Bea
Thanks for sharing those other beautiful beings with us. Feline gems is exactly what they are – you bet. (Tom purrs loudly as I write this!)
The fluid thing is interesting. We’ve been giving her fluid for over 2 years and it was only the first 6-10 times that Sue would hold her and pet her while I inserted the needle and injected. It rapidly became just part of routine – for her and for us. There’s no apparent discomfort at all; I guess it would be like an insulin-dependent diabetic who gets used to injecting herself. Knows it’s her lifeline. If anything, that “obligatory” time together has brought us closer. Tobi is one remarkable cat. (Admittedly one of millions!!!)
Yes… I know about the fluid routine – My Mom chose this option for her beloved friend “Pause” for almost 2 years. He was a cantankerous guy and complained about most everything anyway. Giving him that extra time, as you’re doing with Tobi, was a very sound choice that I don’t think my Mothers regrets (much).
This is the tough thing with being caregivers. Always trying to determine what’s best and right for those who just can’t tell you on their own.
As we speak I have one of those “decisions” to make regarding my pet hen Cleo… She had been doing fine for almost a year on one leg – The other is “crippled” due to genetics I think. Well, a week ago the other went the same way.
She’s still eating and moving about (in limited ways as necessary) – I don’t think she’s in pain. My husband says as long as she’s “fighting” by eating I should do the same. It’s a tough call… I don’t want to be cruel by extending her life “for my benefit” of not having to say good-bye just yet. But the other half just doesn’t see “quality” of life. I’m at a loss.
Thanks for letting me just share/vent that little bit more that digressed (again) from your initial post – I guess I’m looking for a bit of advice from someone that’s also in a position of “decision” right now… What would you do? What do you use to determine a life worth saving or not? Much appreciated – Not an easy subject. :/
Oh… And of course veganelder I would welcome your wise input as well… This is beyond a coin toss, but thus far that’s about where I’m at. (sigh)
Hi Bea, (HGV)
Not weird at all – ask Cleo. That’s where the best answer will come. Animals talk to us, with us, all the time and sitting quietly with Cleo you may well hear or feel something.
If not, and I find sometimes with our animals that my anxiety for their well-being blocks communication, then just listen to you. You know. It may not feel like it but you do. You won’t do the wrong thing – Cleo will not let you.
And if all else fails, if you do truly feel blocked, then those around you will help. Maisey, our spunky, longest-living hen died of old age 3 nights ago. Three days ago she started closing her eyes during the day more, moving around less. But still eating. I knew it was old age but she had such a zest for life (found wandering the main street of Hobart at 11 pm on a Saturday night – what chickens do you know that don’t have their head under their feathers after dusk?) that I wanted to bring her inside for part of what is turning out to be a harshly cold winter. See if I could get her through. But Sue reminded me that she was old. And that she would prefer to die with her flock. She had a hearty meal late Saturday afternoon and died peacefully – with her mates – later that evening. Head gently resting on the hay in her nesting box. I was blocked – Sue helped me. It was the right decision.
I’m not sure if any of this helps but hope it does. I feel for your angst …
What a smart kitty! And a lovely and wise teacher to boot. Thanks so much for sharing.
Bea, I know this may sound a bit weird, but maybe try asking Cleo. A number of years ago when I had to make the decision with my cat Adrian Mole and was going around and around in circles I ended up talking to him out loud about the dilemma, and when I asked him what I should do he just looked at me in such a way that he conveyed as if using human words that he was tired and didn’t want to go on. Maybe it was all my imagination, but I felt a lot more peaceful after that and had a vet come to my home to perform the last procedure he’d ever have to put up with. Can’t hurt, right?
I’m glad I overlooked this sequence of comments till now because it proceeded without my saying something to derail it. HGV had the perfect approach, always ask. I think we get a lot more input from the animal folks around us than we realize and sometimes becoming aware of that input takes no more effort than to just ask and listen and/or pay attention to the answer. That same sort of process happens with ourselves sometimes…when you don’t know what you want…just ask yourself. Your self knows what she/he wants just as Cleo did. Thanks for being that wise and sensitive HGV and thanks for listening and acting Bea.
Hi Harry – First to say I’m so sorry about Maisey. I see from a Twitter comment that she was also an ex-battery hen. Oh what a life she had compared to what might have been!
After reading what Have Gone Vegan wrote and you as well – I did do just that… I asked her what she wanted and was she hurting? And in that moment I also was trying to put myself in her place… And I think Cleo sent the right message back to me…
I had her in my screened room to monitor her… To make sure she ate and drank. But that would only work for a short term. The “word” I got back from Cleo is that she wanted to “go on her own terms”… So I re-designed the coop area to allow for her food/water/nest box and safety – But to still be near her flock.
Well… I put her back with them yesterday and she perked up immediately. Everyone came to the other side of the divide to say “Hi!” and catch up on what the story was. She really, really, missed her sister Lucy – They chattered and cooed back and forth for a long while before they went back to their respective napping and pecking…
Cleo definitiely seems better – Not much less “crippled” – But more mobile and determined to get around as her wings and hocks will allow. I think it was the right decision and I thank both you and HGV for suggesting it…
I wonder sometimes, do humans in all our “need” for comforts place too much significance on what we think is “quality” of life? No one wants to be in torturous pain for sure… But as my body ages and aches from use and wear — I’m willing to accept a certain amount of it — Just because being HERE is worth the rest.
From her perspective (and mine) if there’s sunshine, friends, the chirping of birds flying overhead and an occassional insect crawling nearby – Well… Life is good!
Speaking of… I must go out and say good morning to her and the rest of the girls! Today is a beautiful day to be alive! Thanks so much again – Your words and advice really did help.
Now that’s a great comment to read as one’s about to head off to sleep! It’s obvious that both Cleo and you are feeling lighter. Superb to hear. Whatever time is left with each other – days, weeks or even years (we learnt some time ago that our estimates can be way off) – may you have them with such feelings in your hearts.
Enjoy your beautiful day after summer solstice, while here at Avondale, in bed with Tobi at our feet, and Chelsea and Abbey just beyond, we’ll let the mid-winter rain lullaby us into dreamland.
The sweetest of dreams to you and your beautiful family! <3
[...] an after-hours vet, pus dribbling from her mouth. Cold and dehydrated, Tobi looked like a skeletal porcelain doll that could no longer be glued together. How long had she been like this? Why were we keeping her [...]