Cat Lady

How a one-eyed cat led to a life-changing moment for me

Three weeks ago, I woke up to find our seven-and-a-half-year-old yellow Labrador Rangeley had passed in the night—unexpectedly, suddenly, and, for Felix and me, tragically.

As I sorted through the what-ifs and the if-onlys, I realized that the moment when everything changed for me wasn’t getting a dog or that awful Sunday morning.

It was 15 years ago when I got a cat.

“Pets are more trouble than children.” That used to be my standard response to my friends’ pet stories—usually accompanied by an eye roll, chortle, or shake of the head. Dogs were fun in theory, but the shedding, the drooling, the poop-scooping? The cost!

And what was even the point of cats? You feed them, sift their litter, and they ignore you. Perhaps they plot your murder while you sleep.

I’m unsure why I flipped my turn signal and pulled into the animal shelter on a long holiday weekend. I’d been shopping—retail therapy after Felix and I had had an oh-my-God-I-think-we’re-breaking-up fight on Friday night.

New shoes weren’t the fix. I needed the kind of love no human is capable of balancing — unconditional, leave-me-alone-no-wait-I-need-you-love-me love.

I was 46 and sure I was about to be single again. I’d already bought the Subaru wagon. I might as well get a cat to complete the picture.

Cat lady

“Are you here to adopt a cat?” said one of the smiling SPCA volunteers. Before I could respond, she turned to the cage behind her.

“These cats were brought in a few weeks ago when their owner had to move and couldn’t take them with her. Or maybe one of our older cats. Jake here is so ready to be loved. He’s been here for almost two years now.”

So ready to be loved. Me too, Jake. Me too. But this is not my moment of change.

Jake never stood a chance with me after I saw Kitty. Three months old, a grey and brown barred Tabby with a white belly.

One cat leads to another

Six months later, I had two cats, and Felix and I were repairing and building our relationship. It looked like this. Sometimes, it still does.

Kitty holds a grudge — and Pepper.

Shortly after Pepper (the new cat, another rescue) met Kitty (the O.G. cat), Kitty’s right eye began swelling, oozing, and weeping. The vet said it was conjunctivitis and prescribed medicines. Her condition worsened. Then another diagnosis—feline herpes—and more medications for a stubborn, ornery cat.

I stayed up with her for 24 hours to apply ointments, force pills, and hold warm compresses to her eye and the scratches on my arms.

Then, on a stormy winter day in December 2010. Kitty mewled loudly in the backseat as I drove to the Veterinary Emergency hospital 30 miles away. Between trying to soothe her and keep my VW Jetta on the road, I sang along to Mike and the Mechanics’ All I Need Is a Miracle.

The E.R. vet called the loss of Kitty’s eye an enucleation. I called it a failure. My failure. How could I not have seen it? Why didn’t I act sooner? All the whys and so many tears—and something else.

Unconditional

The primary vet called with an apology for not treating her more aggressively, and paid half the $3,000 surgical bill. A pharmacist filled Kitty’s prescription ahead of others waiting for their human medicines without complaint, because “We love our fur babies, don’t we?”

That was the moment everything changed.

Pets connect us on a human, whole-hearted level. There is no politics or prejudice. Even the dog v. cat debate dissolves with an understanding that we love who we love.

I would have gagged on the term “fur babies” and been livid had anyone cut in line ahead of me for a stupid cat. But that was before I held the well-being of a small creature, who slept on my chest and purred after her surgery, in my hands.

So ready to be loved. So ready to forgive.

Two years ago, Pepper died in our arms at 13 years old.

Kitty is fifteen and showing her age. Neither cat took to Rangeley ….

2017 - Rangeley meets Kitty

until this winter.

I wonder if Kitty knew (better than we) that Rangeley was ailing—that he would die two days after this picture was taken.

Animals are here to change us—rather to help us change. To become the connected, open-hearted people we are meant to be. I’m sure of it.

Unconditional love and forgiveness, yes. Living in the moment, sure. More so, the healing magic of togetherness and caring for one another—no matter our differences.

And also, of course, treats and naps, and treats, and rolling in the grass (or cat nip), and belly rubs, and snuggles. And naps. Lots of naps, followed by treats.

Share your pet stories and photos in the comments, or tag me on notes.

Work hard (but not too hard). Be brave. And, believe that you can be the person your pet thinks you are.

Catherine

Next Week

• Learn how to contribute your Moment of Change story for publication here! I’m so excited about potential collaborations!

• And more writing …