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Kitten Associates

The Squee Diaries. Chapter 4 The Pitter Patter

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Yukon Stan is sitting up on his own! His cuteness is killing me!

Teenie tiny kittens are wondrous little blobs of fluff that look more like hamsters than cats in the making. I can't do much with Minnie's kittens at just over two weeks of age because frankly they're not ready to be handled for very long and they can barely walk, let alone play. Am I complaining about this? No, but I would admit to looking forward to when I can interact with them for longer than it takes to weigh them and say a quick “hello.”

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Hello, Joe!

The other day, I walked into the blue bathroom-home to Minnie and her kittens. I greeted Minnie and asked her how she was doing, then looked into the bathtub to make sure all the kittens were, well, alive. One of the kittens was looking up at me! I got a tingle down my spine. Here was the first sign of the blobs becoming little kittens! Not only was he looking at me, but he was sitting up, his front legs starting to hold his weight.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Stan head out on a mission to walk across the cat bed.

I've noticed some other subtle changes. Stanley discovered his tongue and will attempt to groom himself a little bit. Mostly, I think he's just exploring the sensation of tongue on fur and hoping to make sense of of this new urge he's experiencing.

The kittens are a bit more active. They scrambled to get out of their hooded cat bed so I removed it. That way none of them will be separated from the others. I want each kitten to have good weight gain and access to their mama and it's been working well so far.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Ever-adorable Lil' Gracey.

I was startled, too, by the discovery of a bright ORANGE “blow-out” of poo that got onto Confetti Joe, but came from Yukon Stan. I've never seen this before and after a frantic call to my friend, Katherine, we decided it was okay because their digestion is just forming and of course it could be effected by all sorts of things. Katherine was fairly sure she'd seen some bright orange poo, too, so I gave the kittens a quick bath and hoped to not see that again.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Eyes open, but ears not quite ready yet. Mel won't let that stop him!

Although I did see a small patch on Gracey's behind a day later, other than that, the kittens are still clean and seem to be in good shape. I must add that Minnie continues to be a marvelous mother. The extra good news is that in the two weeks she's been with us she's gained 12 OUNCES! Considering she's nursing AND the terrible shape she was in, this is a huge weight gain. She's still far too thin and though her spine has a very thin layer of padding on it now, she's got a long way to go. She's eating much more food and with more gusto. It makes me happy to watch her eat because every bite for her is going to help keep her lovely kittens going for another day, too.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Gracey vs Stanley.

 

If you're keeping track, the kittens, at 4 weeks should weigh about 1 pound. They're 2 1/2 weeks old now and they're at about 10-12 ounces, so a little ahead of schedule. I've tracked their weight daily-which is VERY IMPORTANT to do. It's the easiest way to see if the kittens are NOT doing well or which need more "mama-time" or which ones might be failing. Compared to the first few days when the kittens were gaining a full ounce every day, now the kittens gain 1/2 oz every day, which is a nice, steady pace.

 

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Still rail-thin, Mama grabs a quick bite between feeding the kittens.

 

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Stan & Joe check out the weird giant hanging over the edge of the bathtub with the crazy hair.

I've had some glimpses of the kitten's personalities, but I don't want to make any assumptions about which ones might be troublemakers or little Princesses just yet. They're also starting to awkwardly wrestle with each other. They still have a long way to go to gain the strength they need to walk confidently. They're very wobbly and fall over constantly. Normally this would be something I'd take delight in, but I continue to have flashbacks about Fred. I see him in my mind's eye, struggling to walk. His back legs went first, then his front. I've never seen anything so horrifying in my life and I'll never forget it. Part of me wants to not see the kittens for a few weeks until they get on their feet. I don't want to remember Fred like that-weak and helpless.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Gracey and Stan and some very sweet stripes.

 

I look at little Joe. The markings on his face remind me of Fred, too, but it's not a bad thing. I feel like I got to have a "do-over" and that I have another chance to raise kittens that will hopefully one day be strong and vibrant and be adopted into loving homes. I told myself not to think about FIP happening again with this family, or something else I haven't seen yet. Cats can get so many diseases, it's a wonder any survive.

 

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Oh Stanley…swoon.

As they always do, the kittens remind me to take joy in witnessing this miraculous time in their lives. I am so determined to do everything perfectly for them, raise them to be confident and loving, not fearful or fractious. I want them to know great health and never know dry food. Somehow that's the only way I can forgive myself for how I failed Fred and the kittens that went to HEART.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. I'm not sure I should caption this photo.

I just looked at Squee-TV , our web cam that's perched on the edge of the bathtub peering down onto the kittens. They're piled onto each other to stay warm, their bellies are full and they're peacefully sleeping. Minnie is nearby, always keeping alert to the slightest sound that will send her to the side of her newborns. She takes a few minutes out for herself and is back at their side every so often to lick them, nourish them and love them with a sincerity that is most profound.

[BREAKING NEWS: Dropcam is going to FEATURE Squee-TV on their front page! If you have a mobile device you can download their app and watch our cam when you're away from your computer! Just use the link to access our Featured-Feed]

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. I'm so big now!

 

Sweet dreams, my little darlings. I look forward to tomorrow because you'll be part of it.

 

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Good night, Mellie.

 

Don't forget to VOTE! If you like what we're doing here at Covered in Cat Hair, simply use this LINK every day until June 28th to cast your vote for BEST CAT BLOG, BEST CAUSE BLOG, BEST BLOG WRITING (here's a LINK to a good article or you can choose your favorite) and make sure you add KITTEN ASSOCIATES as your SHELTER NOMINEE! THANK YOU!!!

You DO NOT HAVE TO COMPLETELY FILL OUT THE NOMINATION FORM TO VOTE! The $1000 prize donation could go a long way to helping us help more kittens like Petey, Gracey, Joey, Stanley and Mellie and mom-Minnie!

 

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Kitten pile!

The Squee Diaries. Chapter 3 The Unbearable Cuteness of Kittens

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Petey meets the chick.

The kittens are almost two weeks old and have been with me for a week and what bliss this week has been. I'd forgotten what it's like to be near such unbearably cute creatures. Even though I can't hold them for long periods of time and they're still a few weeks away from being ready to start playing, just watching them sleep or take nourishment from their mom, Minnie, heals my soul. Whatever lousy things are going on outside of the foster room, can wait as I marvel in the wonder of tiny toes and eyes opening upon the world for the first time.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Box of Joe!

I managed to capture a few photos of the kittens. Keep in mind I don't have a photo studio and I literally have 1 to 2 minutes, tops, to get a photo. After that point the kittens get fussy and Minnie, alarmed, will start chirping at them. Yesterday she got fed up that I took too long, came over and grabbed the kitten by the scruff and took him back to the safety of his siblings! I had to laugh and also be humbled by this protective mama.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Gracey.

Speaking of mama, Minnie is doing much better. Her appetite is greatly improved and today when I weighed her she had gained 2 ounces. It's not a lot of weight, but it's the start of a trend upwards to health for both her and to insure health for her kittens. She even seems a bit less scruffy. Her coat is slightly cleaner and softer. She seems much more at ease. She can focus on caring for her kittens which she does with amazing dedication. This is one very impressive mama-especially for one that is so very young.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Joey getting sleepy.

All the kittens eyes are open and their ears are starting to grow larger. This morning for the first time when I entered the room, they all looked up at me and in that first moment of connection my heart melted even more. I love these babies and am so glad I could open up my home to them while another family, with an orange mama who could be Minnie's sister, was about to be euthanized in a shelter in Georgia.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson.

After MANY emails and phone calls yesterday morning, the mama, who was literally about to be put down, was spared because I'd called and asked them to hold the family. Our intrepid Bobby picked them up and whisked them off to the Vet where Mama, who was suffering from mastitis, could get the care she needed and the kittens could get their first vaccinations and check up. I couldn't live with myself if I knew that I could enjoy Minnie and her family while another, just as deserving family, died. Another tiny battle one. Seven more lives saved.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Watch out! Joey likes to drive fast!

Although I can't invite you to my home to meet our amazing family, you CAN watch them on our brand new web cam I call Squee-TV. I have it running 24/7 so you don't have to miss a wiggle, purr or meow. I've been told it's very addicting so be forewarned!.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. The chick tells Petey a secret.

Don't forget to VOTE! If you like what we're doing here at Covered in Cat Hair, simply use this LINK every day until June 28th to cast your vote for BEST CAT BLOG, BEST CAUSE BLOG, BEST BLOG WRITING (here's a LINK to a good article or you can choose your favorite) and make sure you add KITTEN ASSOCIATES as your SHELTER NOMINEE! THANK YOU!!!

You DO NOT HAVE TO COMPLETELY FILL OUT THE NOMINATION FORM TO VOTE! The $1000 prize donation could go a long way to helping us help more kittens like Petey, Gracey, Joey, Stanley and Mellie and mom-Minnie!

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The Squee Diaries. Chapter 2.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Named, at last, here is our mama, Minnie.

The kittens are 10 days old today. Hurrah! Every day they live is another milestone because at this tender age kittens can fall ill and quickly die. It's common that 30-40% of kittens in a litter will pass away depending on the stresses in the environment and the condition and ability of the mother to provide for her offspring. So far, so good for this family.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Who has the cutest little rear end in the world?

There's an internal war I'm struggling with between feeling great anxiety about the mother's overall condition, which is very poor, and bliss in witnessing her tender devotion to her kittens. I nicknamed the mama, Skinny Minnie, because she's rail-thin. She weighs a little over 7 lbs, but she should weigh about 10 lbs, at least. I can feel her vertebrae when I pet her. It's sharp, without any cushion of flesh. When she sits, her hips stick out, almost at an impossible angle. It hurts me to see her like this when I know she's struggling to keep her kittens alive-at any cost to herself.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Chaos at the lunch line.

What is more worrisome is that starved or not, Minnie isn't eating well. The first day she gobbled her food, then it seemed that nothing would interest her. Was it the fact she was getting good food, more than her digestion could handle? It was certainly a possibility. Add to that she was in a new environment-was she safe? Were her kittens safe? Stress might keep her from eating and so could the fact that we did treat her with Revoution®, which can add to tummy troubles, too.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Minnie is so painfully thin. Come on mama-EAT!

 

I didn't know what was ailing Minnie so I pulled out every tempting treat I could think of and used every trick in the book to get her to eat. She'd lick a little bit of food here and there off my finger or take a few bites of food. I syringe fed her some probiotics, hoping they would calm her stomach. I could hear it gurgling. I checked with a Vet and got the okay to give her sub q (under the skin) fluids. We gave her what is considered a small amount of fluids, just 50 mL. We gave it to her a second time the next day, too.

 

Minnie also relived herself of two gigantic bowel movements. Normally this isn't something to consider, but since she came off the streets, it was important to both get her stool tested for parasites (which surprisingly came up clean this time-we'll recheck in a month) and to make sure she COULD pass stool properly (and use the litter pan!).

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Confetti Joe is named after my daddy, Joe, who passed away 14 years ago this month.

I even offered Minnie what I loathe to feed any cat-dry food. I opted for the highest quality grain-free kibble I could find. Over the following days she nibbled at it a bit, but only seemed to like eating one brand of canned cat food and one flavor of it. Sadly it's a tough food to find locally so I've put in a rush order for more.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Yukon Stan is named after Stanley Pertwee Kokopelli, who died 10 years ago this month.

I've started to weigh Minnie when I weigh the kittens. Tracking her weight is just as vital as that of her offspring. If something should happen to Minnie, it would put the kittens at great risk of dying. They're still completely dependent on her and I'm not the best bottle feeder in the world.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Jellybean Mel is named after my sister's dog, Mel who passed away the day before the kittens were born.

I'm also torn between taking Minnie to the Vet where we might be able to run some tests on her, but it would also STRESS her and the kittens AND put the kittens into an environment where they could possibly get sick being exposed to the other animals in the practice. My gut says to hang tight. As long as Minnie's eating something and not dehydrated, maybe she'll push through this and I can bring her in for a checkup in a few weeks once the kittens are stable.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Precious Pete is named after Super-Deb's cat, Pete Puma who passed away a few years ago.

I keep asking myself, what would the Vet do that I can't? Yes, they can run a blood test, but even if they find infection they can't give her antibiotics because she's nursing. Minnie is alert, bright-eyed, seems comfortable. She grooms herself and is the BEST mama. Though I'd love to see her devour her food and eat a lot of it, she's eating something.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson (main) ©The Tiniest Tiger (inset). Lil' Gracey is named after Joanne McGonagle (her middle name is Lil) and her beloved cat, Gracey, who just died three weeks ago. You may know Gracey for being the spokescat for The Tiniest Tiger.

 

I have to remind myself to hang tight. Keep everyone warm, dry, comfy, fed. That's all that has to be done. Now if Minnie would comply and EAT, we'd be all set.

 

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Pete and his plush pal.

As with every rescue we do, we need to raise some funds to provide for their care while in our foster program. You don't have to donate a lot, even a few dollars can add up to make a difference. Each kitten will need their vaccinations, their spay or neuter surgery, toys, kitten formula and litter. Minnie may need some blood work done if she doesn't get her appetite back.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. I wuv my brudder. Joe and Pete enjoy a snuggle.

 

To help Minnie and her family, simply click the "GIVE NOW" button and you'll be directed to our You Caring page. If you'd prefer to send a check, you can make it out to: Kitten Associates and mail it to: Kitten Associates, P.O. Box 354, Newtown, CT 06470-0354

 

 

Thank you for helping this precious family and for sharing this post to your cat-loving friends!

 

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Gracey fills her belly while brother, Stanley snoozes away the day.

The Squee Diaries Chapter 1. We are born.

Things have been pretty awful around here the past few months. Between the lingering pall of grief after the shooting at our elementary school, the long, almost never-ending winter coupled with the harrowing road we traveled with kitten-Fred, only to end in tragedy—the deaths of our family pets, Mel and Oliver, just adds up to an overly long season of “the blues.”

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. We try to move on, but the sadness lingers.

Usually I’d try to snap myself out of it, but perhaps now that I’m middle-aged, I’m to a point where I just accept it and try to find a way to continue moving forward. I’ve been reluctant to foster any new cats, even though we’re in the throes of “kitten season.” It’s just been too much heartbreak and frankly, I haven’t had a break from fostering for almost four years. I promised Maria, our super foster mom, a break and I hoped that I’d be able to take one myself. Just having Bongo, George, Bunny, Barney and Mabel here is enough, added to my own eight cats.

But, I’m haunted by a longing—a deep-seated need to be around kittens; even though I’m not sure my heart can take any more pain. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t even been around a kitten for almost a year that I feel this pull inside my heart. I’m not sure what drives my desire. I only know it’s there and with every email plea for help or every call about a cat in need, I ask myself; “Is this the one I should be helping?” Then I come up with a reason to say no.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. My dear Fred. I miss you so much.

I need to work and make a living. I need to focus on getting some Kitten Associates housekeeping done. I’d like to feel like I’m caught up or could catch up on what I need to do, but I’m constantly distracted by seeing photos of foster kittens on Facebook!

People often ask me how I can foster kittens when it’s so tough to let them go when it’s time for them to be adopted. I ask in return, how can you NOT foster kittens? How can you say no to one of the sweetest, most blissful experiences you can have in this world? Once you start fostering, it’s very tough to stop.

Watching kittens take their first wobbly steps or pounce awkwardly onto a toy would soften the toughest of hearts. Kittens allow me to be a mother, something I never had the chance to be to a human, but something I have a biological need to do.

I wrestle with the heartache I feel over losing Fred and with adoptions way down, I’m also a bit scared to take on any more foster cats, too.

But yesterday, I experienced a knowing, a gut-tugging feeling that directed me to open my heart and take another chance. When my friend Katherine called me about a mama-cat who just had a litter of kittens on a sidewalk in a tough part of Bridgeport, CT, I knew right away that this was what I needed to do. These were the cats I’d been waiting for for so long.

I asked her if she could tell me what they looked like and she replied; “The mama is orange and maybe white, and so sugary sweet. I think the kittens are all..well..don’t get upset but they are orange and white, just like Fred.”

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©2013 Katherine Reid. My first look at our new family. Mama with 5 kittens born on June 1, 2013.

Tears welled up in my eyes and somehow I choked out the words; “Yes, I’ll take them.” This was my new family and the start of six new stories. I know I can’t replace Fred, but this feels like Fred gets a second chance somehow and I need to do this—for Fred and for my heart.

I’m leaving to pick up this family in a few minutes. Later today you can visit our brand NEW webcam, which I’m calling SqueeTV. Just visit this link to see live, streaming video of our newest rescues and stay tuned as we name each one and begin the process of helping them grow, thrive and become wonderful adoptable kittens.

The Other Side

The past month has been one of the worst of my life. Although I’ve witnessed the slow decline and eventual passing of my own senior cats, and all the fear and sadness that brings, I’ve never watched it happen to a mere kitten. It is so much worse because there’s the added tragedy of the full, long life that never got to be lived. The family I imagined coming to adopt him, never came to the door. The joy he’d have being loved and cherished for a lifetime, was taken away by a fatal disease.

Yesterday afternoon, Fred made his journey over the Rainbow Bridge.

The past month, I’ve had to face Fred’s decline, despite so many efforts to revive him, find an answer, at least keep him stable for a while longer. I’ve had to watch him as he lost use of his back legs. He could still get around after we made changes to his living space to make it easier on him to still have some freedom.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Barney often tried to get Fred to play, which I discouraged. Eventually, Barney realized his brother couldn't play with him any longer.

He became incontinent. Not surprisingly because he couldn’t get to the litter pan. We just made more adjustments and bought a lot of “wee-wee” pads. The goal was to keep him comfortable, hoping we’d get enough time for the test results to come back or to start another treatment.

I set up the web cam so I could watch him when I wasn’t in the room, but felt sick to my stomach every time I looked in on him. Seeing him struggling broke my heart. There was a time I saw him slip and fall off the pet stairs onto the floor. I raced up to the room to help him back up. He seemed so confused about how such things could happen to a once agile creature. I kissed him and told him to hang on that I would find a way to make it better.

I realized I was running out of things to hope for last week. I realized how ridiculous it was to find myself hoping Fred had lymphoma, instead of FIP. Both were fatal, but at least with lymphoma Fred could live longer, maybe over a year. It was crazy to hope that, at least, Fred wouldn’t lose use of his front legs, too, but eventually he did. He could sit up, but other than that, he didn’t move around. Sam and I took turns changing his position or location in the room. I’d place him on a bed in the sunshine and he’d groom himself, perked up by the joy of being in his favorite place.

Fred hadn’t eaten anything on his own over the past week, not even his favorite chicken treat. Sam and I fed him three times a day via a syringe. He struggled at first, but as the days passed, he just took his food without a fuss. Sam would hold him against his chest, shielded by a pad because Fred would often urinate when we held him up to feed him. We’d cheer him on when he peed because that meant his body was still functioning normally. A few times we even got him to poop, which caused us to be even happier. He still had some strength. It wasn’t time. We still had a chance.

I would focus on coming up with the tastiest, most nutritious, combinations I could put into the blender to make Fred enjoy his food. He would take a taste, then smack his mouth with his tongue. He’d look up at Sam with this silly, sweet expression and Sam would look down so lovingly at this little cat. I’d syringe a tiny bit more food into him and he’d swallow some and dribble some onto his fur. Between syringes of food, I’d carefully wipe Fred’s face with a paper towel I’d wetted with very warm water. I wanted to recreate the feeling of his mama washing his face. He seemed to like it and often purred.

When we finished feeding, there were the many medications, eye drops, bad things. I washed Fred again and we’d put him on a soft bed. We’d take turns brushing him, again, anything to help him feel clean and comfortable. Some times Barney would come over and lick Fred’s face, ears, or paws. Fred almost smiled at Barney’s attempts to connect with his brother.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fred (front) and Barney (by the pillows).

I found I couldn’t focus on work or eat much. My only respite was sleep and I couldn’t get to sleep unless I was exhausted. I’d get a few hours, only to wake up as the first glow of sun peeked over the horizon. My gut would go back to its familiar ache. Should I look at the web cam? Is Fred still alive? Did he pass away over night?

Eventually I’d work up the courage to look and I’d see him in his bed, so very still. I’d race into the room to find him still with us. I hate to say that some times I wished maybe he’d have left us over night and it would just be over and done. I kept reminding myself that the other side of this means how I live my life without Fred, knowing he is gone. The sheer Hell of watching him fade away would be over, but a new Hell-one of grief and remorse would take its place.

Time was quickly running out for Fred. Tests kept coming in negative for lymphoma so for certain it was FIP. Fred’s condition got much worse on Tuesday night. We had to hold his head up to get him fed. He was much weaker. I’ve never seen a cat, while still alive, who was so very limp-everywhere. Fred couldn’t lift his head or lick his paw. He could flick his tail ever so slightly-and that’s how I knew it was time to change his wee wee pad, but that was it. After we fed Fred, got him cleaned up and on a fresh blanket, we left the room. I broke down in tears and said to Sam that it was time. He agreed. We were taking turns changing Fred’s position every hour and making sure he wasn’t urinating on himself. I was to call Dr Larry in the morning to make the appointment for that day. We couldn’t wait any more. Now my last hope was that we could end Fred’s life in a peaceful way and without pain or fear.

Sam and I discussed what we would do, how it would be done. I made a promise to Fred-no more Vet runs and that the Vet would come to us. Sick to my stomach, I made the call. Dr. Larry was out sick that day. My only option was to bring Fred to them and have Dr. Mary put Fred down. Sam and I discussed it and felt we could keep Fred going on more day, so we made the appointment for yesterday afternoon.

When you know your cat is going to die and you know when, you can’t focus on anything else going on in your life. Any other issues fall to the wayside. The irony is that through this past month, Sam and I have been working on refinancing our mortgage so we can stay in our home. I’ve been so sidetracked I ignored all the calls and paperwork. I even put off the Closing last week so we could watch over Fred. We managed to get everything taken care of and in the end it saved us a lot of money. We should have been happy since it’s been a constant worry for us for a long time, but we were both like zombies, signing papers, nodding yes or no to any questions our Lawyer had, hoping we’d just get it over with. We got the job done and raced home to be with Fred because we knew we had less than 24 hours to be with him.

The last twelve hours were spent with Fred. He was not left alone, even for a second. Around 10pm on Wednesday, we put or pajamas on and set ourselves up in the foster room with Fred and Barney. Fred was either on a cozy cat bed between us or on Sam's chest. We each were petting him or holding his little paws. They were starting to feel cooler and I wanted him to feel the warmth of my hand. We didn’t say much.

Trying to lighten the mood a little I blurted out, “tell me a story.” and Sam began reciting bits of Dr. Seuss books he read to his daughter 30 years ago. “Look what we found in the park, in the dark! We will take him home, we will call him Clark. He will live at our house; he will grow and grow! Will our mother like this? We don't know.”

I thought Clark would be a good name for the next cat we rescue, then I caught myself. The next cat? Would there be one after this?

We tried to include Barney or play a little bit with him. He was somewhat curious about what was going on, but eventually settled down on a blanket near Fred, too. We formed a circle of loving kindness around Fred. His breathing was slower. He reacted to less and less. I started to hope that Fred would hang on because I didn’t know how the FIP would kill him. Would he suffocate and struggle? Would his heart just give out? I just wanted this one thing since I couldn’t have anything else. I couldn’t have Fred rebound or recover. At least he could die without pain.

Sam slept with Fred that last night. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t see him in such terrible condition for hours on end. I still got up at 4am and again at 7am to check on Fred and to clean him up because he was urinating on himself. Every time Fred peed we still cheered him on. “Good boy! Okay, let’s get you cleaned up. Oops! Here’s some more! Get another pad. Okay, good boy, Freddie!”

But this was it, the morning of the end. I did all the chores getting our other cats feed, watered, boxes cleaned out, so Sam could stay with Fred. I was so busted up that seeing him was killing me, too. I had to go back and face him because time was running out. We got the room cleaned up and got ourselves washed and dressed. Fred was very frail now. We both sat on either side of him, petting him, talking to him. Telling him we loved him. He was barely conscious. It was devastating.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Sam holding Fred before we start feeding time. You can see how limp he is in Sam's arms.

It was a gray day. I was hoping for some last rays of sun for Fred, but it rained. Around 12:30pm, the clouds opened up and it started to pour. I saw Dr. Larry’s car come down the driveway and my heart sank. This was it. It was time. I got up to answer the door, but my legs felt weak. Dr. Larry and super-Deb said hello as they entered the house. My mouth opened to reply, but no words came out.

We went upstairs to the room where Sam was waiting with Fred. Dr. Larry was quiet, then sighed and looked at Fred. He and Deb got to work. I had to sign a form saying Fred hadn’t bitten anyone in 15 days and that I was giving my consent to have him euthanized. Dr. Larry talked about how tough cats are and that he could see Fred living a few more days even though he was barely alive. He said that Fred’s body condition looked really good because we’d been constantly feeding and cleaning him, but that, too, it was clear it was time for Fred to be helped to pass away.

I asked if Dr. Larry could take a look at Barney first. I was worried that Barney could get sick, too, because I’d heard that FIP can hit siblings since they have the same DNA. He and Deb examined Barney and felt he was okay, but we would keep a close eye on him going forward. He suggested we thoroughly scrub down the room and get rid of the cat trees and bedding, just to be safe. We couldn’t risk having an unhealthy environment since I still have three adult foster cats in my bathroom who would benefit being in a bigger space. Although I knew it meant more fundraising to replace all the cat furniture, I agreed it made sense.

There wasn’t anything else I could do to put off what was to come next. It was time to let Fred go. Dr. Larry explained that we had to be calm because Fred’s veins were compromised by the steroids and that the needle might blow out a vein and that we had to not get upset. Sam was still sitting on the bed next to Fred so he lifted the cat bed with Fred on it into his lap. I gave Fred a few kisses and moved aside to hold his front paw while Dr. Larry slipped the first needle into his vein. Dr. Larry fussed over the placement, but the vein held. Fred didn’t even react to the sting of the needle. Fred was already so far gone that when he passed, none of us even saw him go.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fred's last night. Sam held him for hours.

Dr. Larry listened to his chest and there were no more signs of life. He said, “okay, it’s done.” as I burst into racking sobs. Some how I had enough strength to remember one last thing as I cried. I had cut sections of green and white ribbons, which are the colors that are associated with the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. I tried to tie a bow around Fred’s neck, but my fingers didn’t work. It took five tries but I finally got it done. Fred was our Mascot for Kitties for Kids. He made so many kids happy. Super Deb remarked, now all the children who were killed will know Fred when he arrives in Heaven and I agreed.

I kissed Fred a few more times and told him I was sorry and how much I loved him. Deb carried him out in her arms. He was still on his comfy cat bed. She said she didn’t want us to see her put him in the black plastic bag and I agreed I didn’t want to see that either.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fly free, sweet Fred. We will love you and miss you, always.

I closed the door and came close to fainting. I was crying so hard I couldn’t stand. I willed myself to go back to the foster room, which had so often been a place of joy, to find Sam on the bed, weeping.

I sat on the bed, in the same place I’d spent the better part of the last day, but now we were on the other side of this journey, the side where the questions are answered and where the real pain begins.

A loud rumble of thunder traveled through the house. I said to Sam; “that was Fred. He’s on his way to be with the children and they’re celebrating his arrival.” He looked at me through tear-filled eyes and nodded “yes.”

Dear Fred.

Dear Fred,

You’re in the foster room on the floor above my office catching the last few rays of sunshine as you rest in the little cubby on the cat tree. I imagine your respirations, too fast for normal, a bit shallow. Your tail lays limply, instead of flicking back and forth. You’ve been sick with something for months and it’s robbed you of the use of your back legs and now your front are gone, too. We’ve done so many tests on you, with most of them coming up negative or normal, only to find a hint of the horror you may be facing is FIP after all. Feline Infectious Peritonitis—a fatal disease.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fred catching the last rays of sunshine.

I’ve never fought so hard to save a cat’s life. I’ve never reached out to so many Veterinarians, Specialists, anyone who might be able to help you. I’ve never worked so hard to raise money to make sure we have whatever we need, so we can provide for you—no matter what the cost.

I’ve been anxiously waiting for each result, praying it wasn’t FIP. There were MANY tests that said there was NO WAY it could be what we feared most, but one did point a bloody finger…a very high protein level in your spinal fluid…and that may be the only clue we ever get from science. The rest of the clues are witnessed in your weakening physical condition.

You’re just a baby, Fred. You’re only 10 months old. I know we lost your siblings, Pebbles and Bam-Bam a few days after they were born, but I never thought you or your brother, Barney were at risk, too. Please tell me if I did something wrong-or made you get sick! Did I cause you too much stress? Did one of the other foster cats in your room expose you to something that they were immune to? I didn’t think I waited too long to get you to the Vet, but maybe we were too slow to do tests, fearing the costs? I feel like I’ve let you down, Fred and I hate myself for that. I will never forgive myself for your death and I know you’re going to die. I'm so VERY SORRY, Fred. I know it won’t be much longer now.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Our Fred.

The treatment we hoped would work has done nothing other than make you gag when I give it to you. The steroids don’t make you hungry or feel any better. I keep thinking that I can’t give up on you. I just can’t, but now I see you barely able to sit up and I think, why am I doing this to you? Is it fair to let you be this way? You’re still “Fred,” in so many ways, but now I’m faced with the worst thing I will ever deal with and that is choosing when to end your life.

It’s so against what I have devoted my life to-saving lives, not taking them. I know that if you were in a shelter, they would have put you down a long time ago. I know if you were still living in that terrible place where we rescued your mom, you’d have died a long time ago there, too. You can’t expect to live in filth with little or no food and no vet care and survive very long. I know that you’ve probably lived with me longer than you would have lived anywhere else-even if you’d been adopted because I doubt anyone would not go to work so they could stay home and syringe-feed a kitten or spend thousands of dollars in Vet care for a possibly hopeless situation, so maybe that’s the meaning of this journey?

You didn’t get adopted months ago, when you had an adopter come see you because you were supposed to stay with me. I just don’t want to know what my lesson is in all of this because if it’s that cat rescue means euthanizing cats, I honestly don’t know if I am capable of doing that.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Barney fussing over his brother, trying to get him to play again.

I love watching kittens take their first steps and be part of introducing them to the world, but if it means I have to take the life of a precious kitten before he even has the chance to see his first birthday, I just don’t know if I have what it takes.

Dear Fred-I love you so much. You were so charming and carefree. You amazed me at how high you could jump and how much you loved to chase those feather toys. I’ve known you since the day you were born and I’ve looked out for you all these months.

I know I can’t fix what’s wrong with you. I can syringe-feed you, try to keep you clean and dry, since you can’t make it to the litter pan any more. I can brush you and speak sweetly, encourage you to be strong, while I try to be as gentle with you as I can.

I have one last offering for you, sweet Fred. Today you’re getting adopted. Sam and I are adopting you into our family. The contract is signed. You belong to us. Our goal is to find a forever home for every one of our foster cats, even if forever is only going to last another day. I can’t cure your FIP, but I can give you a loving home until your last breath leaves your body.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson.

I will never forget you, Fred. I know that one day we will do something very special in your honor because of the big impact you made on all of our lives. I hope your journey to the Rainbow Bridge is as beautiful as I can make it and that one day I will see you again.

Love always,
Robin (and your daddy, Sam, too)

Maybe It Was Meant to Be?

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©2012 Maria S. Our first glimpse of Willow-stuck up in a tree.

Almost a year has passed since our-Maria rescued a stray kitty out of a maple tree. We didn't know her story, only that she was probably dumped and a pit bull saw her and chased her up the tree. Maria had quite the time getting her down, but from the very first moments, we knew that Willow was going to be a special kitty. (read more about Willow's rescue HERE).

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©2012 Maria S. (inset) and ©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Willow's transformation.

From day one, Willow was very sick with some sort of upper respiratory tract infection. She was thin. Her coat was ragged, but Willow was very easy-going and friendly. In fact, Maria soon realized she could put a harness on Willow and take her for walks and even jokingly put a baby doll dress on her. Willow was fine with whatever came her way.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Willow enjoying the sunshine…

We tried many rounds of antibiotics to cure Willow's sneezes and runny eyes. They worked for a time, but she would get sick again and again. We tried 60 days of doxycycline, only for it to return. Willow had been in our program for over six months with no real idea of what was ailing her. I finally decided to try to test her for Bartonella this bast January.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. …and the view of the woods.

Due to a mixup, I never found out that the test was a STRONG POSITIVE until MARCH! Once we knew, we began treatment and she got better right away.

Of course, I couldn't easily put Willow up for adoption if she was sick, but between cycles of her illness it seemed she was fine so I processed LOTS of applications and even went on a few home visits, but NOTHING EVER PANNED OUT.

 

I wonder if on some cosmic level I had to figure out what was truly ailing Willow before she could find her forever home because I was baffled at how many adoptions on her fell through.

 

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. A tender moment with Fred.

I got an application from a gentleman named, Matthew. He's young and married and has a nice home north of here. I did a Vet check and it panned out. He was very sweet when he talked about his cats and I really liked him.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Willow has tortie-patterned paws-you can just see it here.

 

We were about to do the adoption when I found out about Willow having Bartonella.

I knew that telling an adopter about a cat being sick could have them give up on her. Many folks will just think they're getting a terminally sick cat and move on to another rescue. I worried that Matthew would not want Willow but he just asked me if it was contagious and I said no. I didn't hear from him for a day or two and finally he wrote that if I could medicate Willow and keep her here, that he would be happy to adopt her after her medication was done-which would be another month.

 

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©2012 Maria S. (inset). ©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. On the way to her new home, Willow's journey is almost complete.

Willow is such a sweet cat. She's become the mother-figure to all the other fosters. They adore her and cling to her and she calmly reassures them as she grooms them. I didn't mind having her for awhile longer.

The day finally arrived to bring Willow to Matthew. I was very sad because Willow is a "top 10" sort of cat. She simply had no unwanted habits, she was always friendly to everyone and affectionate. She was silly and seemed to always be happy and she is so very lovely to look at-with her crazy, undefinable patterning and colors. I loved her dearly and definitely would be missing her a great deal-and I worried that Fred & Barney would, too.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Back seat driver!

We got Willow packed up. I had all sorts of toys, food, a scratcher, catnip, a cat bed-everything I could think of to get Willow off on a good start. I even brought extra toys for her two new kitty friends. She didn't want to be in her cat carrier, so I let her out. She panted a bit, out of fear and excitement, but eventually she just sat on top of her cat carrier and watched the world go by. What a GREAT cat!

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Willow is so cool she can even travel in the car in style.

We got Willow settled and she immediately started to PLAY in her new room! She didn't hide or run off. She rubbed her face on the furnishings, marking her new space with her scent. She went over to Matthew to get some pets. She seemed completely cheerful, as ever. Meanwhile, Roo, one of her new friends, was sitting outside the door, wondering what was going on.

 

I'd gone over how to do cat to cat introductions with Matthew and we started right away. I opened the door so Roo could see Willow and vice versa. They saw each other, but there was no negative reaction of any kind. A good sign-but I closed the door while things were still good and Willow resumed playing.

 

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©2013 Matthew R. Willow, in her new home eats while her new sister, Roo, eats on the other side of the door.

I didn't want to leave Willow, but as it always goes, I have to do it. I have to do it so I can help more cats. I gave her a kiss on the “M” on her forehead, her silky soft fur brushed my lips. I told her I loved her one last time. With a heavy heart I went home wishing she could have stayed with us. I crossed my fingers and said a silent prayer that I hoped I'd made a good choice for Willow and that she would have a lifetime of happiness with her new family.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Our last moments with Willow before it was time to head to her new home.

 

The thing is, how could I not adopt Willow to Matthew? He's an Arborist, after all!

 

Kitties for Kids is a WINNER!

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On December 14, 2012, after my town's heart was broken, I sat on the sofa watching the news in tears. I couldn't just sit there and do nothing. I didn't have much to offer, except a house full of cats and foster cats. I realized not everyone knows what it's like to be in the company of so many cats at one time and perhaps there was something about the wonder of living with cats that I could share with others. I knew we couldn't take the cats out into the public because that would be a hot mess. I left that job to the therapy dogs.

I worried about opening up our home to the residents of our town. Could they spend time with our cats without it turning into a big liability? What if someone was bitten or scratched? Would I lose the house if someone got hurt? How could I protect my cats and our visitors or was this just a stupid idea? I thought about it for a few minutes, realizing I had to take the chance. I needed to help my neighbors. It was worth the risk. That night Kitties for Kids was born.

I've written more about our program (you can see the post HERE).

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The invitation to the 2013 CVMA Awards.

But what I've been keeping secret for a few months is that our program was chosen by the Connecticut Veterinary Medical Association to receive their Pet of the Year Award! This special award is given to honor our FOSTER KITTENS for their outstanding achievement in helping our town's kids find their smiles again.

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When I was first contacted about this award I thought it was a joke. I called my vet and Dr. Larry said he'd been part of CVMA for years and that CVMA has been around since 1884 and was a very distinguished organization. Wow.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. I was a bit sad that no one jumped into the fountain at the Awards Banquet, but there's always next year.

On Tuesday, March 26th, Sam and I drove to Hartford, CT to the Wadsworth Atheneum to attend the Awards Banquet. Now any of you who have read this blog before, know that I've been the President & Founder of Kitten Associates, Inc. for almost three years. To be in a room FULL OF VETERINARIANS was a DREAM COME TRUE! I felt like a kid in a candy store! I wanted to run up to every Vet and make friends with each one. The heck with the award, I need to find more vets to work with (at a discount, of course!).

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Yes, the cauliflower is naturally purple!

Part of me worried that if I found a cute single Vet I might be tempted to leave Sam behind and run off, but the thrill of the evening and the upcoming award forced me to (sort of) temper my enthusiasm.

The Wadsworth is a gorgeous Gothic Revival styled Art Museum. We couldn't explore the galleries, but were kept to a large courtyard with a lovely fountain in the center of it. We hadn't taken more than a few steps into the room, when we were greeted by Dr. Chris, the former President of CVMA. He warmly welcomed us and thanked us for being such an inspiration to others. Who us? What? I couldn't believe it.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. This is Addie the Comfort Dog. She is clearly excited about winning her big green ribbon.

Dr. Chris is an emergency room Vet. He likes the thrill of not knowing what's coming in the door next and works and sleeps at the hospital for four days in a row, then takes a few days off to be with his wife, two kids and their menagerie of animals he's taken from owners who could no longer provide care for their animals. This guy has a heart of GOLD and it was very clear he had a passion for caring for animals.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Senator Blumenthal gives his acceptance speech.

We also met with TD Bank sponsors, who were also gracious and friendly. They were chatting with our co-recipients from the Golden Retrievers of Lutheran Church Charities who had brought their dog, Addie with them. We sat down and chatted about, what else, dogs and cats. It was a pleasant start to the evening.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. The cover of our Certficate from Senator Blumenthal.

Chris came over and told us that Connecticut Senator Richard Blumenthal, who has been a hero of mine for years, was going to be attending the banquet and that in addition to his receiving an award, he had insisted on giving US a Certificate of Special Recognition for the work we do!

I was stunned and thrilled. A certificate from our own Senator meant the world to me. This accolade was from our STATE, where I've lived most of my life. This sort of recognition was something I could have only dreamed of and here it was about to happen.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. My pride and joy.

A few moments later, Senator Blumenthal entered the room. He gracefully made his way around the room, shaking hands and taking photos with people. I knew we would get to meet him so I tried to ready myself for the moment. He shook my hand and thanked us for our service to the people of Newtown. I quickly said a few fumbling words and before he could leave I gave him my card and I asked for a photo. I kept thinking, this man has been to the White House. He knows the President of the United States. Wow.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Proof! Senator Richard Blumenthal and Robin A.F. Olson (me!).

Dr. Chris made the opening remarks and introduced Senator Blumenthal. The Senator gave a very moving, well articulated and heartfelt speech. He had no notes. I thought about how many speeches he must have given over the years and that it was probably second nature to him. I was glad I didn't have to give a speech that night because I doubted I could do as good a job-even with notes.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. A close up-I'm so honored!

Dr. Chris returned to the podium and began to talk about Kitten Associates and our Kitties for Kids program. I'd sent CVMA information about us and thought I'd hear back what I'd written, but Chris had his own special commendation for us. Hearing it made me blush with joy. I couldn't get over that this was our moment in the spotlight. All we had to do was get up, walk across the room and accept our plaque and certificate.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Our CVMA Pet of the Year Award.

BUT I WAS WRONG!

Chris handed me the awards and he whispered to me to go ahead and say a few words. WHAT?! Make a speech? NOW?!

I had NOT prepared a single word, but I pulled myself together and I knocked one out of the park. Thank goodness I didn't flop in front of all those juicy Veterinarians!

I was buzzing from all the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The rest of the ceremony flew by and no sooner than it was over, the Vet of the Year, Dr. Eva Ceranowicz of Bloomfield Animal Hospital, came over to introduce herself to us. Again, I was floored to get this sort of recognition when I was planning to introduce myself to her.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. We did it!

She was delightful and charming. We had a quick, intense conversation, then she was off to talk to more guests and we followed suit.

I got to talk shop with a few Vets who were clearly amused by my knowledge of all things de-wormer related. I tried to make quick BFFs for future reference, but most of the Vets I spoke with had their Practice too far away from Newtown.

The evening was winding down and just as Sam and I were going to leave a gentleman introduced himself to us. He said his name was Gordon and turns out he's the Executive Director of the Connecticut Humane Society! As if talking with a room full of Veterinarians and meeting Senator Blumenthal wasn't enough, here was someone I admired from the rescue side of things and he's a GUY. A GUY WHO DOES RESCUE(who is also adorable, but I didn't say that to his face). Wow again!

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Wendy and Sam really had fun taking part in our Kitties for Kids program (with Barney in the background).

We had a lively conversation and I hoped we would be in touch. He was glad to work with us and vice versa (in our small capacity). Of everything that happened that night, this was definitely a highlight. We shook hands (he has a nice, warm, strong handshake) and said goodnight. I walked out into the cold night air, floating on cloud nine.

I never expected the night to go so well or to be so honored for our Kitties for Kids program, but I learned that if you follow your heart, it will take you in the right direction.

And now if you'll excuse me, I have another family coming to visit our kitties and I need to get the room ready!

-------------------------------

Make sure you LIKE the CVMA Facebook page. It's embarrassing that they only have 141 likes!

Also, make sure you visit the Connecticut Humane Society FB page and say hello from Robin, but don't tell them I have a crush on their boss.

Now We are Seven-Covered in Cat Hair's Blogversary

Who knew the need to vent my frustrations, living with an ever-changing number of cats, would lead to all of this?

It began with this post.

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©2006 Robin A.F. Olson. Here's my cat, Cricket (center) flanked by his brother, Boo-Boo and sister, Sophie. Back then, Boo-Boo was one of the inspirations to starting my blog (because he was so annoying!)Boo and Sophie were later adopted together.

For those of you interested in the origins of Covered in Cat Hair, you should know that this blog was meant to be a book project entitled: Covered in Cat Hair: the Mostly True Stories of a Life Spent with Cats. James Frey had just been busted for lying about his tome: A Million Little Pieces and I figured I had to add the “mostly true” part just in case I goofed up on some facts.

My brilliant idea was that since I stink at cold-calling Editors and Publishers and writing pitches, that simply the fact I was writing a blog would be enough fodder to lure them into discovering my fresh voice, and shortly thereafter offering me a lucrative book deal (which, to date, I'm still waiting for).

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©2006 Robin A.F. Olson. A few months after Covered in Cat Hair began, I inherited my Mother's cat, Bob Dole, after she passed away. My Mother never read my blog or any of my work, saying she would wait for it to be published, first.

In the meantime, I began writing my book, not really focusing too much on blog-length posts. I wrote about 90,000 words (yes, that's a lot, but not quite enough for a book). Each chapter is a short story. Some of the stories are poignant and some flights of foolish fancy. I was determined to finish my book, but I realized no one would want to read such long posts online so I had to change course on my blog.

I was fostering for a rescue group and thought I'd write about the cats in my care. There were many stories to share, but my “boss,” the Director of the group, did NOT like me writing about her or anything else we were up to. I also couldn't post photos with my stories, which frustrated me endlessly. I grew up with a camera in my hand and telling stories and sharing photos is natural to me.

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©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. Blueberry and her brother, Blackberry were rescued from South Carolina.

So what did I do?

I kept writing. I used aliases. I waited for technology to get to the point where I could share photos and I began to write posts to help other people with their cats, as well as to continue telling stories about my foster cats.

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©2008 Robin A.F. Olson. Two of the Pi Day babies, Happy and Jelly Belly.

In 2009, I came face to face with the cruel truth of what happens to cats in the southern part of the USA. It was something I'd already heard about, but I didn't know just how horrific it was. I'd been sheltered, pardon the pun, from knowing about abuse, over-population and mass euthanasias of cats, because I felt I was “too sensitive” to handle the truth. I did my fostering and kept out of the rescue part. Once that curtain was parted, my life changed forever.

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©2010 Robin A.F. Olson & A. Merritt. The Halloween Express-four kittens in a kill shelter in Georgia didn't have a chance. We rescued them, did quarantine, and placed them in a month-ALL TOGETHER with ONE FAMILY! You can see how well they're doing, laying crammed next to their Mom's lap in this recent photo.

When I found out that about 95-98% of cats don't make it out of southern (and other) municipal shelters, I thought I would die from the news.

I imagined all those cats, many of them newborns and kittens, dead in a pile waiting to be…who knows…taken to the dump? Incinerated? Used in pet food? (I'd heard that was true, but could never prove it).

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©2006 Robin A.F. Olson. The now infamous, Huggy Mama, the first cat (and her two offspring, one pictured here) I rescued out of a kill shelter in 2009. She and her two boys were adopted TOGETHER.

I could keep turning away or I could look, stone-faced and soberly at this HELL and I could raise my hand and offer to do something about it-even if it only helped a small handful of cats.

I met with a great deal of opposition. It was difficult work, but I had an excellent team in Georgia offering to help me led by Maria and Bobby. It pushed all my boundaries. I was rescuing cats I never had a chance to meet before agreeing to rescue them. I had to hope they would be nice, adoptable cats who didn't have serious illness. I raised money for these rescues and was overwhelmed by how many people cared, to the point of being willing to send me $5 when that money was the WORLD to them.

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©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. 1 in 7 million are the odds that this little calico named Gingerbread would be a male. He surprised us all.

I left the rescue I was with under great duress and with a great deal of anger for how I was treated. I opened Kitten Associates, scared out of my mind that I was taking on more than I could handle. I knew enough to get myself in trouble-and I did just that, but I kept writing, buoyed by the supportive emails and calls I got from so many of you.

If nothing else, I figured I could be a warning to others about what not to do with your life.

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©2006 Robin A.F. Olson. Poppy, about a week old.

Where Covered in Cat Hair has taken me, I could have never imagined. I've been honored with many awards and accolades. I've met wonderful people who share my passion to save cats, enrich their lives, to help their guardians cope with behavior problems and to feed cats a species appropriate diet. I cherish my cat-lady-babes, every one of them.

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©2007 Robin A.F. Olson. Will & Grace.

The biggest surprise to me, and the most humbling, is that no matter what kind of trouble I get myself into, what heartbreak I share, what triumphs I achieve, you are right there with me, cheering me on, offering your shoulder when times get tough and sharing your insight and stories from your life in return.

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©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. CallaLilly & daughter, Sunny.

I am so in love with all of you and so very grateful for your support these past seven years. Thank you for being part of my journey—it's one I hope will continue for a long time to come.

My Secret Shame. Part 2 of 2

A YEAR PASSED with NO RESOLUTION. Many the cats were getting sick, of course, with the chronic upper respiratory that plagues many shelters. One cat had to be put down. At first I thought it was our girl, but I later found out it wasn’t. I knew very little about Tansy in those dark days. I only knew that the case wasn’t settled and to write back again in another month and another month and another month. I was never really sure she was alive since I didn't even have a photo to confirm they had her.

In late January of THIS YEAR, ONE YEAR AND SEVEN MONTHS after the animals were taken from Sue and almost THREE YEARS since the initial adoption, I got my monthly reply, but this one was different.

The ACO asked me, since they felt the case was nearing completion, did I want to foster Tansy until the case was over? I had to agree to return her to North Carolina if the Judge awarded her back to Sue. I promised I would follow the letter of the Law even if I didn’t agree with the verdict.

“When can we take Tansy out of there?” I asked.

”We’re open until 5PM today and from 10AM to 2PM tomorrow.” they replied.

I couldn't believe it! I wished I had superpowers so I could FLY to Animal Control and get her out. I started to consider making the 1000 mile drive, but first I wanted to make certain it was our girl. I asked for a photo of her to confirm we had the right cat. A few hours later, the photo below arrived in my inbox. There was Tansy, all grown up. A bit chubbier than she’d been when we last saw her, but it was still our girl. I was so happy to see her my mouth hurt from smiling so hard. They told me half the cats had become chronically sick at the shelter, but somehow Tansy had been spared. Thank God.

First Look at Tansy.jpg
©2013 ICAS&C. There she is-TANSY!

I called a friend of mine who used to run a shelter here in CT and who’d recently retired to North Carolina. I asked her to please go get Tansy and since she couldn’t foster her that I’d arrange to pay for the cost of boarding at a local Vet hospital if she could drop her off. It would mean more time in a cage, but we were almost out of the woods.

I made a silent promise that soon Tansy would NEVER be caged again. It was my chance to FINALLY do right by her, even though I may be getting a complete basket case of a cat. I’d figure it out later. Right now she needed to get OUT OF THERE.

The next morning at 10AM Tansy left the building, hopefully for the last time. An hour later I got more photos and a call. Tansy was at the Vet getting examined by the same Vet who had seen her while she was in custody. It's a very nice facility called Troutman Animal Hospital and the people there were really thrilled with their new furry client.

First look Tansy close up.jpg
©2013 ICAS&C. A second photo seals the deal. Yes, it's our girl.

Then the shocking news I would have never seen coming…Tansy was not emotionally crippled. In fact they were describing her as “a complete doll,” “stands up on her hind legs and reaches up to be held,” “we just LOVE HER she is so precious!”

I couldn’t believe my luck, nor did I deserve it, but I was so very grateful. I didn’t know if Tansy’s behavior was temporary and due to the long confinement or if that was her true nature.

I arranged for Tansy to be vetted and I set up her transport to Connecticut. I sent out some emails and was able to find Amanda Arthur from Paws and Claws rescue. She offered to drive Tansy 100 miles to the drop off location for the PETS transport. It was all working out so well. It should be an easy time for Tansy now, but there were more delays.

Laser beam Tansy at Troutman.jpg
©2013 Troutman Animal Hospital. Someone turned Tansy's laser beam eyes on at the Vet!

The weather tanked so we had to keep Tansy in North Carolina for three weeks. Over that time Ms Vicki, who works at Troutman, kept me abreast of Tansy’s latest antics. Vicki was in love with Tansy to the point of wanting to adopt her. Even if her husband was against the idea, preventing any thoughts of adopting Tansy; I couldn’t have let her go anyway. There would be vet checks and home visits for Tansy’s next-and last home if I had anything to do with it. I was thrilled that someone loved this cat so much that I heard her choke back tears of joy when I had to extend Tansy’s stay to a third week. It spoke highly of Vicki and of Tansy. Apparently, this was one great cat.

On February 1st at 9AM I sat in the parking lot at the Danbury Choice Hotel waiting for the PETS truck to arrive. It was bitter cold and I worried about Tansy handling the serious temperature shift. The driver opened the doors to the side of the truck as the families lined up to receive their newly adopted dogs. Tansy, as often happens, was the only cat on the truck. As I reached the front of the line, I asked for Tansy, knowing it would be the last time I said that name out loud.

She was huddled in the carrier, crying. I raced her over to my car and tried to take a quick look at her, but it was so cold I didn’t want to waste any time. I got the car started and headed for home. She was quiet and didn’t react much, just stared out the front of the carrier as I drove along I-84. I talked to her about her new home and I welcomed her to Connecticut, as I do with every foster cat who arrives from the south.

Then it hit me. TANSY SPENT ONE YEAR AND SEVEN MONTHS in a cage in a shelter. Alone, scared, wondering what she did wrong. If I had only brought her here in the first place, she never would have had to suffer. As I imagined her sad life, the tide of salty tears I'd held back for so long, broke free. I sobbed as I drove because I was so happy I finally had this cat in my custody and now she would never be caged again. My own suffering was almost over-though my shame would never fade. I finally had her away from that terrible place and now I could spend my time focusing on giving her the best life I could possibly provide.

It was the least I could do. This was the second time I’d saved her life from a Kill Shelter. I was determined to never put her in harm’s way again.

When I got home I brought her to her room. It’s my guest bathroom/laundry room. It’s not a huge space but it has a window that overlooks the woods. It has a cat tree and two scratchers. There are new toys waiting for her and fresh food (much BETTER FOOD) and water. I even had a heated blanket out for her to snuggle on. I wanted her to have everything she needed.

I set the carrier on the floor and opened the door. She walked out of the crate and looked around. She’s a very small cat. I expected her to be much larger. She seemed immediately at ease and came over to me to say hello.

She reached up to me so I lifted her into my arms. She licked the tears off my cheek and head butted me, then began purring. As I held her, Tansy’s old life melted away and my joy in finally holding her was complete.

Mabel on the Bed R Olson.jpg
©2013 Robin A.F Olson. One of the best moments of my life-seeing Mabel happy, safe and OUT of a CAGE.

That day was the beginning of her new life. I honored it by giving her a new name.

Looking into her sparkling emerald eyes, I whispered to her; “Welcome home, MabelBaby. Welcome home. Your long journey is over. I promise. No more cages. Never again.”

But how did Mabel do once she was out of the cage? Did she remain friendly or turn into a fiend? Mable had a few surprises left up her tabby patterned sleeves that no one saw coming…

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3.13.13-UPDATE: The Verdict is in. Mabel was awarded to Animal Control. I'm allowed to begin the process of putting her up for adoption if I wish. My next challenge, one I hope you will join me in, is to help the remaining cats get out of the kill shelter in North Carolina before it’s too late. Stay tuned for details and thank you for sticking with me on my ever-so-bumpy-journey.

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