Cute Photo

I didn't have much time to mourn Laney, Winnie and Piglet leaving to go to their forever home because the day after their adoption a family contacted me, interested in Louie and Larry. I'd had a few applications on the boys over the past year they've been here, but none of them were a good fit. This one sounded promising, but I never assume anything until the cats leave in a carrier.

©2014 Kitten Associates. Just a few months old, Louie (left) and brother Larry (right).

Louie and Larry were two cats I never really got to know well. The girls were so much more affectionate that even though I tried to handle the boys, the girls were always in the way. Originally there were nine cats in the room who all needed attention. Sadly, the ones who didn't get as much, ended up being a bit more shy. I knew as the cats got adopted I'd be able to spend more time with whoever was left, but I was already concerned because if the boys didn't warm up, it could mean they'd be here a lot longer.

©2014 Kitten Associates. Laney with her last litter, including Louie and Larry.

It was unsettling, entering the foster room and only seeing the four boys. The room felt empty without the girls buzzing around my ankles, purring and chirping their greeting to me. I longed for the familiar routine, but I also appreciated the fact that I had a lot less food to give out and less in the litter pan to scoop. After five and a half years of having a room constantly filled with cats, it was nice to have the numbers go down a bit. I wondered if it would ever be empty again.

©2014 Kitten Associates. A little over a week old.

The boys really missed their mom. They were more shy with me than before. But fairly soon they were taking over her routine of chirping and meowing at me when I brought them their meals. Larry, especially, became more outgoing and even came over to me to be petted. He and Louie are such handsome boys. I felt badly for not admiring them more sooner. I always enjoyed play time with them because Louie, especially, would go crazy after the toys, growling to the others to stay back when he had his mouth on the prize. He'd fly after a toy and run until he was panting. If I kept on he'd chase the toy until he fell over.

©2014 Foster Mom Moe. Laney's kittens with Piglet.

Yesterday, I spent some time with the boys before Renee and her family came to meet them. They seemed a bit more relaxed around me and Larry even enjoyed being petted, instead of running away when I approached him. As my fingers rubbed behind his ear, he began to purr. It was the first time I'd heard it since he arrived here from Georgia last March. I imagined it being a sweet parting gift IF he and Louie were to be adopted. I really wasn't sure if the boys were going to go. They never showed well, always hiding when strangers entered the room. I'd told Renee about that when I did the home visit, but she and her husband have had cats "forever" and their two boys were raised with cats. Maybe it would be a good fit in time.

©2016 Robin A.F. Olson. A very grown up, Larry.

The family arrived and all the cats hid. The room was noisy and filled with Renee, her husband and two sons. I tried to get everyone to settle down, grabbing some cat toys to help the cats forget to be scared. Distraction with play time is a great way to help cats gain confidence in stressful situations and this was certainly one of them.

©2016 Robin A.F. Olson. What always happens when I try to take a photo.

Louie and Larry began to play right away while Jelly Belly and Lolli seemed to evaporate into a parallel universe. Everyone was chatting and asking questions about the cats. They'd come to see all four cats, but I knew that Jelly and Lolli wouldn't be a good fit. They're just too fearful, especially Lolli, to be with a family of four who live in a very big house. It would be too much for them to handle and they'd only hide even more. My hope was that if they started the boys off in their own room for a week or two, that they'd be able to manage. But would they be adopted?

©2016 Robin A.F. Olson. Larry. Named after our vet, Dr. Larry.

©2016 Robin A.F. Olson. Louie, in his spot overlooking the front yard.

They boys began to tire. Renee's husband reached out and was able to pet Larry. Once that happened I had hope this adoption would go through. The boys are truly sweet cats, but they also need time to blossom and maybe this family would give them that chance.

©2016 Robin A.F. Olson. Silly Louie.

I left the room so the family could decide what they wanted to do. They could go anywhere and adopt any cats they wanted. My boys were over 10 pounds now, a far cry from the kittens they once were. Part of me didn't want to see them go since I'd just said goodbye to their mom, but part of me yearns for foster kittens and the emptier the room, the sooner I can fill it up again.

©2016 Robin A.F. Olson. Louie (above) while brother Larry (below) is not far away.

A little while later, the decision: Louie and Larry were going to their new home. Laney and Winnie's family was broken up for good. The co-parenting they did, the way they all slept in a big pile together every night was really over now. I'd have Jelly and Lolli left while the others went off to live their new life with their forever families. It's how it's meant to be. It's my job. As happy as I was to know they were on their way, part of me longed for the way things used to be and my heart ached over having to separate any of the cats from each other.

©2016 Robin A.F. Olson. The most handsome of handsome.

I can only do this if I believe the cats are going to a good home. I remind myself that I can't give them the love and time they deserve. I can't give them the space to run around and explore. I can't even sleep with them each night. My home is just the way station. Now they can begin their life without restrictions (other than staying indoors!).

Happy life, boys. May you only know love and joy in your new home. Congratulations to you and your family.

(continued from part 1)

August

After a month of tests, I continued on, but this time weighing about 20 pounds less. The pain wasn’t as severe and I was a pro at checking my blood glucose every day. I never saw it go beyond a normal reading, but I was also terrified to go out to eat (so I didn’t). I cooked more than I cared to, but if I controlled what went into the food, I was “safe.”

I was lost trying to sort out what to eat, what not to eat. I hadn’t had sugar or much white flour. No more pasta, no more nuttin’. I had terrible cravings, but I knew that if worked very hard, it would go away and I’d make new routines eventually…yeah, right. We’re talking about me, a self-confessed “foodie” who felt like her whole life was over.

At least I got to rescue a kitten we named, Tink. She came flea-infested from Animal Care & Control in NYC. It was our first rescue-pull from them and it was a proud moment for me because if you’re going to rescue a cat from a tough place, NYACC is it. They do a great job partnering with an organization called HOPE, to get the animals OUT of their facilities, but you can imagine they are overloaded day and night.

Tink went to foster care and her foster mom fell in love so Tink’s adoption was sealed.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Think, a mini-Freya, bright light in an otherwise dreary world.

Meanwhile, I wasn’t too sick to notice that my cat, Gracie wasn’t eating well. No matter what we did or tried to feed her she was clearly off her food. I took her to the vet and they said she needed a dental cleaning right away. Other than the fact I hadn’t been working and was low on funds, there was nothing to be particularly concerned about as it was a routine procedure.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Minus most of her teeth after a dental, now Gracie was facing something much more dire.

September

Something was wrong with Gracie after her dental. She wouldn’t eat, was depressed and after going back to the vet a half dozen times in two weeks, they noticed she had a very enlarged liver. I might as well have let her go the second I saw the look on Dr. Larry’s face as he examined her. He shook his head. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” he said.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. At one of a million vet visits, each one giving us hope that we'd find the answer of what was ailing our girl.

And so began a torturous two months of trying to save Gracie’s life. It was so hard on me that I couldn’t eat or sleep. I had such bad anxiety because we couldn’t find what was going on, but could only guess it was neoplasia (cancer), somewhere. If we didn't know what was slowly killing my sweet cat, we couldn't TREAT it. The clock was ticking. I’m not a loser when it comes to my cats. I will fight and fight for them but nothing I did helped Gracie get any better.

I cared for her around-the-clock. Sam and I took turns medicating and feeding her. Every morning I wondered if I would come down the stairs and see Gracie had passed away over night. Every morning I hated myself for partly wishing it would be the case and it would be over, but I also had to work hard to find joy in our last days together because this was all we were going to get.

2015 used with permission. Woody on his mom's lap. He's where he was supposed to be all along.

There was a moment of joy. Woody, the last of Mia’s kittens, finally got adopted after a 18 months. Woody’s siblings, Greta and Lil’ Snickers had been in their forever home for 6 months, but their mom, Nicole and been aching over the fact that Woody was left behind. She and her family agreed that Woody needed to join them. I couldn’t believe it when she called, but indeed that’s what she really wanted all along.

It was a shaky two weeks because Woody had to leave his mother, Mia. I hated separating them, but truth be told, Mia is not friendly enough to be adopted and this was Woody’s best chance.

2015 used with permission. Wood (on recliner) reunited with Lil Snickers (front) and sister, Greta (sofa).

Woody is doing great and his siblings remembered him after a few days. Mia is showing signs of coming around, too, so maybe one day she’ll find her family, too.

October

Lex & Lucy got adopted even though I was pretty much checked out of running Kitten Associates. I was glad for them because the couple was great and I’ve heard the kitties are doing well, but it also meant the remaining foster cats were well beyond being cute kittens. They were all over 8 pounds and too big for their prime adoptable time.

Used with permission. Lex & Lucy together always, in their forever home.

I began taking an online class with the Humane Society of the United States. It was 10-weeks long plus 5 hours of course week, at least, every week. At the end of it I’d be certified as a Cat Behavior Counselor. The question was, could I do it when my heart was breaking and my mind was numb from stress?

Our sole remaining feral cat, Bronte showed up looking frail and sickly. We put out a trap so we could get her to the vet, but instead of trapping Bronte, we got this big tom cat who had been hanging around our house for months. I was able to learn he was being fed down the street, but the person at that home said he wasn’t her cat. Since we had the cat and to get back at him for ripping my screen window open a few days before, I took him to be neutered (okay I wasn’t getting revenge, but…).

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Barry sat outside my office window (before he ripped it open) and cried. Meanwhile DOOD and Blitzen egg him on.

I named the cat, Barry.

I figured I’d let him go back outside after he recovered from surgery. What I didn’t expect was that Barry was friendly, so then I was faced with what to do with him.

©2008 Robin AF Olson. Bronte, the last time we were able to trap her and get her vetted.

Sadly, we never saw Bronte again. She’d been with us for seven years. We had heated cabins for her in our screen porch and heated water dishes. We fed her every single day and now she was gone. We couldn’t even say goodbye. I still find myself looking for her when I go outside.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Cricket with frankenbutt.

One night I looked over at our cat Cricket. I saw blood all over his rear end. It was bad enough we were doing vet runs and fussing over Gracie, but now Cricket was in big trouble. It was clear he blew out one of his anal glands and needed surgery to repair the wound. We had him stitched up the next morning. He needed 17 stitches and was just in time for Halloween.

And two days later, as October became November, Gracie died in Sam’s arms as I was driving us to the vet to have them release her from this life.

©2006 Robin AF Olson. The most beautiful, sweet-natured cat I've ever known. I miss you, Gracie, so much.

November

I suppose the best news of the year was that after repeating my blood work it was determined I didn’t have diabetes after all. I didn’t even know I could hope for that outcome. I'd lost about 45 pounds and still need to lose more, but the change in my body was starting to be pretty clear since none of my clothes fit me any more.

I knew I still had to be very careful because I can become diabetic due to my family history, so I can’t go back to eating things I used to like, but at least I can have a cookie or some such thing once in awhile.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Is this my future?

On the flip side, the bad news is there is trouble with my heart, a lack of blood flow that is either a small or moderate in area in the lower part of the muscle. My cardiologist wanted me to take a fist full of medications, but after careful consideration I decided not to take his advice. As of this writing, I’m still on this journey trying to find out what this pain is from. It’s mostly gone these days, but not entirely. I’m getting out for walks more, but not enough. I’m still eating well, too, but I don’t know what is really going on. Hopefully some day I will. I’m getting a second opinion.

Poor Petunia was getting picked on too often, even after the surgery. I decided to create a penned off space for her near the living room. She has her own litter pan, water, cat tree, scratcher, heated bed, cozy hut to hide in. Pretty much the second she realized the other cats couldn’t bother her, she calmed down and never missed the litter pan once. Though it’s not a perfect solution, it stopped the insanity. I don’t feel stressed out because seeing the cats go after Petunia upset me a lot. Now I can relate to Petunia differently, too. She’s not soiling anything and I’m not unfairly vilifying her. I learned I can start over and re-introduce her to the other cats. It’s going to take a long time, but in the meantime she’s calm and content and that’s what matters.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Petunia watches DOOD from a safe distance. After I took this photo, I covered the pen with towels to give her more separation from the other cats. As for the other cats, I had to suck it up and take my beloved boy Spencer in for a dental. I had put it off after the disaster following Gracie's final cleaning. Spencer HATES to go to the vet and is very tough to handle. They got the job done, but I have to say I was very upset until he came back home. Even then I noticed he's showing his age. He's 14 going on 15 and I just can't "go there" when I think about how we lost Gracie and she was younger. Spencer has the early signs of kidney issues so he'll be going back to the vet for blood work again soon.

December

I got the flu for Thanksgiving. Not a surprise, really. After all the stress with caring for Gracie, no wonder I got sick. I lucked out and was just well enough a week later to meet Mike Bridavsky and see Lil Bub again. I’d designed Bub’s BUBblehead box and was really proud to be part of her world, even in some small way.

I got home and went back to bed. Sam joined me. He had just been hit by the flu, too.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. The bright spot to an otherwise sad year-seeing Mike & Bub again.

Somehow I managed to graduate my class! I got a 98! I’m a Certified Cat Behavior Counselor. Now I can help people keep their cats instead of giving them up when times get tough.

The results of not working much and a lot of sick cats hit my bank account really hard. Christmas ended up being mostly just another day. I was grateful that at least I could keep things going with Kitten Associates. I had some folks interested in wanting one or two of the cats. I’m hoping it will pan out in the new year.

Laney and family had been here so long they needed their vaccinations boostered. I had Dr. Larry and Super-Deb do a house call. I figured it would be a routine visit. No big deal.

I was wrong.

Laney needed a dental. Winnie and Piglet had severe stomatitis and needed not only dental cleanings ASAP, but they both were going to lose teeth. Just how many teeth would be taken was to be determined. There went $2200.00 in vet care I hadn’t figured on.

Barry sounds “bad.” He’s getting x-rays of his lungs done in a few days.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Barry, no longer the "feral" cat, is making his home in my bathroom until we complete his vet care (and he quits biting me!).

The “good” news I found out today is that Winnie has raging bartonella. It’s good because it means she probably does NOT have an immune disorder that will effect the rest of her life. We’re going to re-test Piglet because she was a +1, when Winnie was a +4 (+4 is the highest level of infection). Since the protocol is to not treat for a +1 and it’s been 9 months since we tested Piglet, it’s possible Piglet had it, but we caught it early and that now she, too may be a +4 (which would explain her bad mouth).

If it means neither cat will have to lose all their teeth one day, I’m all for it.

Moving Onward

It was a really tough year. I miss having kittens so much, but I needed a break without being able to really take one. I helped about 45 cats, mostly behind-the-scenes. I was going to end the year by rescuing this super cute ginger boy in South Carolina but happily for him he got adopted before they found out we’d take him.

I faced my mortality in a way I never did before. I made many difficult choices and ended up deciding to give myself the respect I never could before. I'm trying to treasure this body I have, faults, extra padding and all. It's been the toughest thing I've ever done and I have a long way to go, but for the first time I think that maybe, just maybe I'll get there and end up being the girl who really liked herself instead of loathing the face in the mirror.

My dreams for 2016 are a mixed bag. Firstly, I want to get as healthy as I can and get to the bottom of the chest pain. Second, I hope 2016 will be a re-birth of sorts. This humble blog has been far overdue for a re-design and Kitten Associates' web site needs a facelift, too. I'd also like to take my writing to the next level-which means a book project. Will you read a book if I write it? I've got to do this. If I can't make this one dream come true I never will.

And I'm still dedicated to making lives better for cats, for rescuing them and giving them safe harbor, for helping their humans understand them better so they can be happier and so those cats don't lose their home. I may not run the biggest rescue with the highest number of adoptions, but as the story of the starfish goes...

...The old man replied, “But there must be tens of thousands of starfish on this beach. I’m afraid you won’t really be able to make much of a difference.” The boy bent down, picked up yet another starfish and threw it as far as he could into the ocean. Then he turned, smiled and said, “It made a difference to that one!”

adapted from The Star Thrower

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Necklace from my friend, Adria.

This might as well be the shortest blog post ever. I could sum up 2015 as the year that, well, as the saying goes; “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”

2015 sucked.

January

How do you define artistic genius? For a painter, perhaps it’s through tiny details carefully mastered at the tip of a brush. For a writer, it's via a rainbow of words woven into a tapestry of memorable characters, effortlessly transporting us into another world. Then there’s another kind of genius, too, one that can distill an otherwise mundane or even distressing experience and turn it into a handful of hilarious, simply drawn images. That is the gift of animator-cartoonist Simon Tofield.

Simon’s Cat: Off to the Vet …and Other Cat-astrophes is the fifth offering in the series of Simon’s Cat books; featuring cartoons of none other than the rascally-catbit Simon’s Cat. For those not familiar, Simon’s cat® is eternally hungry and oh-so-obsessed about how he might get himself an extra snack. Birds are his favorite target, yet he reminds us of Wile E. Coyote, who as brilliant as he thinks he is, he never quite outwits his prey. Meanwhile, it is his outlandish failures that are what keeps readers coming back for more.

What’s hooked fans since 2008 when Simon’s Cat first appeared in a YouTube video entitled, Cat man Do, (which has had over 56 MILLION views to date) is how on one level he’s relatable and very much like every-cat, but on another, he goes to far more outrageous lengths to get what he wants. Because he’s so adorable we hope he’ll get it (even if it means a broken lamp or ruined sofa in the process).

Simon’s Cat: Off to the Vet…is an energetic romp Tofield renders artfully in pen and ink. He captures the humor in a task cat-parents find completely dreadful—taking their cat to the Vet. With Tofield’s genius as a cartoonist, each page turned is another reason to snicker, especially in scenes where Simon’s Cat wrestles with wearing the dreaded cone-of-shame. Because Tofield is able to find the punchline in these moments, perhaps we can as well, the next time we’re faced with wrestling our cat into the carrier for that dreaded trip to you-know-where in the car.

Simon's cat, forever hungry, in his iconic pose. Photo from original drawing donated to our rescue, Kitten Associates.

Simon’s Cat: Off to the Vet…includes a return of our favorite characters like the Hedgehog, the Garden Gnome and the Kitten, as well as inviting a few new ones to join in the adventure. While after four previous books it would be easy to assume we’d see the same thing over and over again, Tofield finds a way to keep the antics fresh and laugh-out-loud funny. I found myself gleefully anticipating what the next page turn would reveal.

I particularly enjoyed the surprise at the center of the book. It reminded me of the point in the film, The Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy arrives in Oz and the film goes from monotone to full-color. Tofield’s simple black and white line drawings are transformed by the addition of dazzling watercolors, creating a dimension not only to the look, but to the effect of the storytelling that was quite appealing.

In 2016, a full-color, fully funded (record breaking), Indiegogo campaign sponsored, feature animation based on this book will debut and I can’t wait to see it.

I had a chance to ask Simon Tofield a few questions about his life, the loss of one of his cats, as well as his aspirations and inspirations:

CiCH: I’m very sorry to hear of Hugh’s passing at the age of 10. How did that effect your work and do you feel there might be some changes to Simon’s Cat in the future as a result?

ST: Hugh was very dear to me and so his passing was very sad. I still find myself calling his name at the cat’s feeding time by accident. When it rains and my other black cat Teddy’s fur gets wet he looks like the spitting image of Hugh, which often catches me off guard when he comes through the cat flap. In relation to Simon’s Cat, I draw upon all cats I have ever owned for inspiration past and present, so even though he has passed away, its nice to know that Hugh will live on in my work.

CiCH: Do you still have three cats and are you considering adding to your cat-family any time soon? If so, what sort of cat would be ideal?

ST: Yes, I still have three cats, Old jess, big Maisy and fluffy Teddy. I would love to get another cat after Hugh's passing but I also have a little nineteen-month-old boy. So the idea of having new kittens and a toddler running around the house is maybe not a good one. Although saying that, my wife and I have already agreed that when my little boy is old enough we will get another cat or two.

My favourite sort of cat is the giant Maine Coon. I love the fact they grow so big and are so gentle and friendly. Although when the time finally does come to get a new cat I think it will have to be another rescue cat from the centre.

CiCH: If Simon’s Cat was a specific breed of cat what kind would he be?

ST: If Simon's cat were a breed he would probably be a British short hair. A moggie of no real breeding but with buckets of character and charm. He would also have a white coat and be slightly over weight, he would be lazy but have a very clever, calculating little mind.

CiCH: Was it after “Cat-man Do” went viral when you decided to focus your career on doing Simon’s Cat or did something else occur that made you realise this was your life’s calling?

ST: When I saw how much people seemed to enjoy Cat-man-Do, I really wanted to do another one. I had always loved animation and cats, so combining the two seemed like an ideal job. However, It was only when someone came up to me and offered me a book deal that I could start concentrating solely on Simon's Cat.

CiCH: How has fame changed your life beyond improving your finances?

ST: I have to say that my life is kind of the same as it has always been; I wouldn't really call myself Famous. I look at it as the cat is the famous one I'm just his owner who has to look after him. My life has been completely turned upside down recently though but It's due to a baby in the house, something my real cats are still coming to terms with.

CiCH: What dreams do you have for Simon’s Cat going forward?

ST: Well I'm delighted that people still enjoy watching my cat and his antics and in that sense my dreams have already been realised. If I had wish for more, it would probably be for a TV series, I think that would be great to see him on Television.

CiCH: It’s been said you get inspiration for your art from your cats, but are there people who inspire you? Other cartoonists? Other artists?

ST: As a boy growing up in the 80's I fell in love with the Transformers cartoon series and would often video it and watch it back to learn how to animate. I would go through each frame at a time trying to figure out how many drawings it took to do a certain movement. I used this knowledge a few years later when I discovered the magic of making flipbooks at college. So from quite an early age I was hooked on animation. Having dyslexia I found reading quite a struggle as a child so tended to draw everything instead, this of course has helped me greatly in later life. I tended not really to look at other peoples work as I was too busy scribbling my own stuff but in my twenties I discovered Gary Larson and his Far Side cartoons. It always amazed me how he could create so many funny situations with HILARIOUS CHARACTERS. I certainly looked up to him as an Artist for sure. Another Artist who I greatly admired was Bill Watterson and his charming Calvin and Hobbes series, pure genius.

CiCH: You have a great gift for being able to take an uncomfortable subject, like the struggle most cat-parents have, to get their cat to the Vet and show the humour in it in just a few images. Are there any aspects of living with cats that you don’t feel you’d want to explore in Simon’s Cat?

ST: Well there are certain aspects of living with cats that probably wouldn't make great topics to draw. A few years ago I would have said the whole litter tray scenario but I have found myself going there and it's actually quite funny. I have always had a great love of wildlife and birds in particular. I have a little rule that Simon's cat although he tries very hard never actually catches or kills a bird. I would like to say the same about mice but He has eaten a mouse in the past and showed the remains to Simon. I try to base Simon's Cat as much as I can in real life and this is just one of those things cats do.

CiCH: When will the animation be airing of “Simon’s Cat Off to the Vet” ?

ST: We plan to realise the 'Off to the Vet' in 2016.

CiCH: What is your favorite body part on a cat? (I love big fluffy cat bums)

ST: My favorite cat body part has to be the tail; I think it’s a window into the mind of the cat. Every emotion can be picked up by the subtle little movements and shape of the tail. I use this a lot in my animations and illustrations. Cats are really great for cartoons because they can say so much with their body language; they are all visual in their feelings, perfect for drawing. You can draw a cat and let everyone know how that cat is feeling with out writing a single word. This is probably the reason why there are so many cartoon felines.

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Simon’s Cat: Off to the Vet…and Other Cat-astrophes is available NOW from your favorite bookseller. It lists for $27.95 (hardcover) and $16.95 (paperback).

If you’d like to WIN a copy (paperback) of Simon’s Cat: Off to the Vet…and Other Cat-astrophes simply leave a comment here and tell us what your cat does when you try to take him, her or all of them to the vet. Funniest comment judged by me wins. I have TWO copies to giveaway so there will be two winners. Deadline to enter is December 31, 2015 at 11:11 PM Eastern Standard Time. Please only one comment/entry per person. All comments are MODERATED to prevent SPAM so it may take some time for your comment to appear, but since they are time stamped I’ll know if your entry is within the deadline once you send it in.

FTC DISCLAIMER: I was given a copy of this book to review, but I was not paid for this post in any way. These are my sentiments and opinions only (other than where Mr. Tofiled is quoted). Your mileage may vary.

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BIG NEWS FOR SIMON’S CAT FANS. We’re going to be auctioning off an ORIGINAL SIMON’S CAT drawing, done in-person by Simon Tofield. Proceeds will go to our rescue, Kitten Associates. Special thanks to Simon Tofield and Ingrid King for their generosity in giving us this fabulous drawing of Simon’s cats (featuring Hugh!).

STAY TUNED for INFO ON HOW TO BID ON THIS MASTERPIECE! If you'd like to get on our mailing list to find out when it will be available for bidding, sign up for our Newsletter through the Kitten Associates web site. or email us at info @ kittenassociates.org (remove spaces after "info" and before "kitten" for proper address.

We are beyond thrilled to be able to offer this drawing for sale to raise funds for our rescue efforts. Sadly we could not get our auction going by the time this review posted due to Holiday insanity but it should be up just after the New Year.

There are things I never planned for when I first opened my non-profit cat rescue, Kitten Associates. One of them was what to do when I encountered a cat that for some reason, finding a forever home would be difficult, if not impossible. I assumed that because we’re a small rescue we’d never have to put a cat down (boy, was I wrong about that) or encounter horrible illness (wrong, again) or cats I’d be scratching my head about who I can't put up for adoption (yep, wrong).

©2012 Robin AF Olson. King, the day before leaving for his forever home. King had some health issues after his adoption, but I'm glad to report he is doing great now.

Along the way we’ve had cats like King, who was born with no back paws. He was barely getting by on the grounds of a palette factory in Georgia, where he dodged fork lifts and ate scraps. I wasn’t confident we’d ever find him a placement, but in the end King found the most perfect home with his mom, Judy who lives 1300 miles away in New Hampshire. I’ve come to see that there IS a home for EVERY cat no matter what. It just might take a great deal of time to find that home.

It’s relatively straightforward to provide care for kittens. Yes, often times it can be touch and go. During those early days the odds are greater for loss to occur and sadly we have lost more than I’d care to recall. What surprises me is that those cats who are the most difficult and emotionally draining to care for are the ones I love the most, even if it meant a lot of tough times as I witnessed their struggles, riding wave after wave of joy and anguish.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Lady Saturday after she was released from ICU and only needed day to day monitoring at Dr. Larry's.

Last year I innocently offered to help my friends with a senior cat they found on the side of the road who was nearly starved to death and seriously ill. I had no idea that 14 months and MANY thousands of dollars later, that cat would still be with us. Lady Saturday’s recovery was a miracle, but it also left us with a dilemma. Saturday is over 10 years old. She’s deaf. She doesn’t do much more than eat and sleep and purr during petting-time. She’s been available for adoption for most of this year but it’s very unlikely we will EVER get an adoption application for her. Her foster family loves her very dearly, but they cannot afford her care so we’ve picked up the tab and will continue to do so. We’ll need a way to keep our commitment to this deserving tuxedo cutie, but in truth, fundraising for a senior cat isn’t usually very successful.

©2014 Randy Szendy. Used with permission. First known photo of Freya before rescue.

Then there’s Freya. Who knew that my last blog post about her (HERE), which revealed the surprise that Freya no longer needed additional surgery and was stable enough to be adopted, would cause such a passionate firestorm of comments. Every one said the same thing; “You’ve GOT to KEEP FREYA. She loves you and you love her. How can you let her go? Who would provide the right care for her because she’ll always be a special needs cat?”

Some of you even cried at the news, as I did when I wrote that final line. I walked around like a Zombie the day I realized that all the hard work was probably over and that Freya really didn’t need me as she once did. I looked at the first photos of her the day I met her and I cried again. What a journey we’ve had.

©2014 Robin AF Olson. Little Freya the first day she was with me.

What I do as a cat rescuer occurs in phases that repeat over and over again. I come to the aid of cats and kittens who face dire situations or health crises. Then we all work together to support those animals until their time comes to find their forever home. Along the way I help the cat learn to trust and love humans, be comfortable getting claws trimmed, treat their parasitic infections, their upper respiratory tract infections, keep their belly full.

I teach them to be confident and emotionally balanced and when I feel they’ve accomplished these things and are in good health, then it’s time for them to be adopted. I’ve fostered close to 500 cats by now and you all know that I can’t keep every one.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Weighing just over 7 pounds, Freya has grown into a lovely little lady. She will always be very small, but her big personality makes up for it.

Over the years a few kittens have gotten under my skin and I’ve had to keep them here, but we’re already beyond the limit of what we can provide for. There’s also the issue of the stress it causes on some of our cats and the resulting inappropriate elimination nightmare that follows. Our cat Petunia can get so stressed she gets struvite crystals in her bladder (which we had surgically removed earlier this year). Is it fair to her for us to keep Freya? Is it responsible to keep Freya even though we cannot afford her care? Will Freya get enough attention from us? These are things I must consider. Ultimately, I will always aim for what is best for our foster cat, not me.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Something to giggle about...

I agree that there aren’t going to be a lot of people in our area who can provide care for Freya, unless they already do rescue work or are very experienced cat guardians. They would have to monitor her diet and track her output. She’ll have more problems as she ages because of her spinal deformity and bowed legs. She’s already hearing and probably vision impaired, though she doesn’t let anything get her down. One day she may need acupuncture, medications and/or surgery to keep her comfortable as she grows older.

I love Freya very much and our journey has been one of the most meaningful of my life.

Without being arrogant, I’m really proud of what I’ve been able to do for her and it inspires me to perhaps change course from rescuing more kittens, to focusing on only one or two who need a lot of care to get them back on their paws. Freya’s story has helped other kittens like her and even some young children who have atresia ani. It’s an honor to know that she serves as an inspiration to others to not give up even when the Vet says “she’s got a 10% chance to survive.”

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Spring!

As I sit at my desk writing, I hear Freya’s familiar me-ow. She wants my attention so of course I turn to see what she wants. She can’t reach up very comfortably so I bend over and carefully lift her. I place her on my chest and sit back so she doesn’t slide down to the floor. She walks on me purring away, not caring her butt is in my face. She turns and rubs her wet nose onto my cheek. I give her a few pets while being careful not to let her slip. Although I have to stop writing, I enjoy taking a moment to interact with her.

Freya often makes me smile and this time is no different. I put her gently back down on the floor and she runs off looking for her favorite spring toy. I ask myself how I can let her go. How I can be okay with never seeing her funny little wiggle-butt-action or how silly she looks when she suddenly stops, mid-step, then stretches out her back legs perfectly flat and straight, before going back to racing off just for the fun of it.

Rational “I should do this or that” thoughts aside, Freya is part of our family and I think I’ve found a solution that will make it possible for her to stay with us.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Adorable as always.

I’ve created the Freya & Friends Fund. It’s a special fund that will only be used for cats like Freya, who cannot be adopted, and who need long-term care. Lady Saturday will also benefit from this program because she WILL need a lot of support since she’s already a senior cat (and she needs fluids at least once a week for the rest of her life). It will also help us provide for Mia, who has not improved in over a year and is clearly not going to be social enough to find her forever home any time soon. In fact, she may never be adoptable as she’s still too fearful of humans. We need funds to cover her care, too, but these are things that are not easy to fundraise for and that is my fear.

We need about $15/day to cover the basics of food, litter and a tiny bit towards regular vet care for these cats. We’ll have to do special fundraising as our cats age or as infirmity or unforeseen health issues occur.

If I didn’t have to worry about how we were going to afford to provide for Freya, then keeping her here would be possible, but if I can’t be certain we can always provide for her then it will be more difficult.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Please keep me with you always!

The bonus, of course, if we keep Freya, means you’ll always be able to stay in touch with her and watch her journey as it continues to unfold. She has a lot of growing to do and new friends to make.

Knowing she’s been an inspiration to others makes it even more important to keep her with us. She could eventually visit our local schools to help children not only learn about compassion for animals but to see that just because a cat is different doesn’t make her any less lovable—perhaps it makes her more lovable.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. A few nights ago with her family, the DOOD and Spencer.

I guess that’s what it comes down to in the end-love. Love trumps reason. Love overrules “should.” I love Monkeypants and now I hope you’ll help me keep her where she belongs by joining Freya & Friends as a supporter.

FRIENDSHIP OPTIONS

Dinner is on Me : $15.00 USD - monthly Got You Covered : $20.00 USD - monthly Yummy Buddy : $25.00 USD - monthly Good Friend : $30.00 USD - monthly Happy Helper : $40.00 USD - monthly Lotsa Love : $50.00 USD - monthly Freya's BFF : $100.00 USD - monthly Fabulous Friend : $200.00 USD - monthly

If you'd like more information about this program visit our web site HERE. Kitten Associates is a 501c3 non-profit so your gift is tax deductible. Our IRS EIN is 27-3597692.

©2014 Robin AF Olson. The night before Freya's surgery I knew I could never let her go.

Gracie aka, “Beanie,” or “Miss Bubbles” is gone, but instead of making all of you cry, yet again, I wanted to share some stories about her life and why she was so very special to us. Although you might not guess it from looking at her, Gracie was a very funny cat. She was also magnificent in her youth, truly a spectacle of fine flowing fluff. She was fearful, but lion-hearted. She was kind. I do not believe she ever hissed or growled at anyone. Super-Deb, our friend and Vet Tech at Dr. Larry’s called her, “A Lady” and remarked that you could do whatever you needed to do to her and she wouldn’t cause a fuss.

©2003 Robin A.F. Olson. Mama-Gracie with Petunia.

Gracie was my first “unwed mama-cat.” I’d only fostered one cat before she arrived and he was a foster fail named Spencer who became the mascot of Covered in Cat Hair. I didn’t quite know what to do with Gracie or her three kittens: Scooterpie, Annabelle and Petunia. Gracie was very skittish and didn’t exactly welcome my presence, so I gave her plenty of space and focused on socializing the kittens. I can’t say I really got to know Gracie very well during those days, but when it seemed as though she was never going to be adopted and I only had a cat or two at the time, I decided that she and her daughter Petunia could stay with me.

©2006 Robin A.F. Olson. Ladies nap.

Gracie was a great mama and when it was time for her to leave the confines of the foster room, Gracie hid a lot or ran off if Sam or I tried to come to her. Again, we gave her space to acclimate and in time she began to appear on our bed in the morning or sleep a bit closer to us when we watched TV in the living room.

The one thing Gracie loved was to be brushed. I used to call her a “Brush Whore” because she would probably have sold her soul to get brushed. All I had to do was ask Gracie; “Brush?” and she’d run over to me excited and ready to be groomed. She’d sit still as I got the clumps out of her thick ruff. She’d purr, but she had a very soft purr I could barely hear. Maybe she was too shy to let it rip. I didn’t care. I was just glad that I found something she enjoyed. Brushing Gracie was something we did every single day, over the last few months of her life. We did it after she had to be pilled or syringe-fed, so our encounter would always end pleasantly.

©2006 Robin A.F. Olson. Will work for brushing.

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Gracie loved toy mice. She’d grab one, then sit motionless holding it in her mouth for what seemed to be an hour. I don’t know why she did that, but after a time she’d start to yeowl while continuing to hold onto the mouse. Maybe she was announcing her latest victory over the toy mouse population? I know she lived outdoors before she came to us so maybe she was reliving the good old days?

©2007 Robin A.F. Olson. Just plain weird.

One night Sam and I were in bed reading. We heard Gracie’s familiar yeowl and saw her running down the hallway into our bedroom with a toy mouse in her mouth. I looked up at her, amused at her silly antics, then went back to reading.

Gracie ran around the bed to Sam’s side. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gracie throw the mouse up into the air. Sam, glued to his book didn’t pay any attention. Gracie was making odd sounds, really getting frantic over this toy.

Once again I saw the mouse fly up into the air but this time it landed on the bed between Sam’s legs. My primitive brain reacted to the sight first. Suddenly I found myself out of bed and halfway down the hallway as my modern brain caught up with the visual. I screamed:

“That’s NOT A TOY!!!!!”

There, in Sam’s lap was a dead mouse; A REAL MOUSE. There, was Gracie looking up at him as if to say; “What? What’s the matter? Can I get that back?”

©2008 Robin A.F. Olson. One morning I bent down with a plate full of food for Gracie and saw (right center belly up) she'd already had an appetizer!

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Something happened to Gracie after she had a dental about eight years ago. She started to drool when she got brushed or petted for a long period of time. I nicknamed her Miss Bubbles because the drool always came out in perfect crystalline beads. Somehow they always ended up on my arm even though I tried to avoid the onslaught of saliva.

Sadly, it seems that her daughter Petunia also does this now and she drools so much it’s like turning on a faucet. As much as I love her it’s kinda gross to pet her for very long.

©2007 Robin A.F. Olson. aka, Miss Bubbles.

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Something else also appeared after Gracie’s dental, milliary dermatitis. I wrote about my struggles with her (HERE and HERE). I don’t know what caused it or why she had it. I know we could not get it to go away even with a clean, raw diet, even with two years of going to see dermatologists here and in New York, giving Gracie shots, pills, tests, biopsies. I couldn’t give her steroids because I knew at only 7 years of age she’d have a significantly shorter life. I was, however, able to stop her from barbering off her fur and vomiting the fur back up every day. She seemed comfortable and her skin improved enough so she stopped feeling itchy.

©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. Noooooo!

Part of helping Gracie feel comfortable required giving her a bath a few times a week. Though she was not a fan of her bath time, she was a pretty good sport. I even took her to Dr. Larry’s because Super-Deb could give Gracie a “spa day” of grooming and bathing to help soothe her crusty skin. I was always so proud of Gracie because Super-Deb always said she was a good girl and easy to bathe.

I never learned the root cause of Gracie’s condition, but I do know that it lead to one cancerous lesion that we had removed many years ago. Looking back I believe that was the culprit in what eventually caused Gracie’s premature demise. And yes, I do believe 14 years is too young for a cat to pass away, especially because not three months ago Gracie seemed to be in such fine form. But I promised happy stories so let me think of another.

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In the past few years Gracie overcame a lot. She stopped being so shy and began to seek out attention. It was marvelous to see her blossom, but it also unleashed a bit of a devil. You see, if we didn’t get up early enough to get her breakfast started she would quietly enter our bedroom, then stand up on her hind legs and drag her front paws, claws out, down the bedroom door. This would not only damage the door (because it’s a cheap piece of crap), but she would push the door shut which would flip out the cats who were on either side of the door.

©2007 Robin A.F. Olson. Sunny days.

I knew if I got up I was training her that I’d react to her antics, but if I didn’t get up one of the other cats might flip out or need to get out to use the litter pan and there isn’t one in our bedroom.

Gracie often made me grumble as she sat defiantly near the door. If she was Simon’s Cat I’d expect her to point at her open mouth wanting to be fed. I guess I should be glad that unlike Simon’s Cat, Gracie couldn’t mange to bring a baseball bat into the bedroom.

Gracie always had her way.

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Gracie’s latest crazy thing was to sit on the kitchen table every morning and cry to get her goat milk/pro biotic drink. Her meow was very raspy and, well, not very delightful. She sounded like a really old cantankerous lady who only knew how to complain. I’d tell Gracie to shush and that I’d get her her drink right away. I think that looking back on this, too, I should have realized she might have been self-soothing her belly. If she had cancer back then it might have been starting to bleed and perhaps the cool drink and the goat milk comforted her. I know that cats hide illness very well and I’d say she did a really good job keeping the wool over my eyes for way too long.

She loved that drink. It gave her a milk moustache.

©2006 Robin A.F. Olson. Belly good belly.

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Gracie had a feather-fetish. If there were feathers attached to a toy instead of chasing them she would lick them. She’d lick and lick and lick as if she was grooming herself after a meal. I never let her have the feathers for too long for fear she’d ingest them. Even on her last days I gave her a catnip carrot that was crowned with green feathers instead of leaves. I knew she was still Gracie because she still licked the feathers.

©2007 Robin A.F. Olson. Fluff fantasy, the Princess of Pouff.

After Gracie passed away and before we had her privately cremated, Sam and I wrapped her in a gorgeous new turquoise blue fleece blanket. I added a photo of us, to which we each wrote Gracie a special message. The final piece was Gracie’s catnip carrot. I slipped it between her front paws so she would always have it with her. I didn’t want Gracie to be wanting for anything even as she embarked on her next journey to the Rainbow Bridge.

Gracie brought us a lot of joy over the twelve years we had together. When I think of her I try not to think of the dark days. It’s not easy, but I know that in time I’ll only smile when I hear her name or look at a photo of her. Right now my heart is still raw from grief, but I’d do it all over again if it meant having those sunny days back, too.

©2008 Robin A.F. Olson. Petunia and Gracie watching the birdies.

©2015 Robin A.F. Olson. Turn up the volume!

(Continued from Parts 1, 2 and 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 and 12)

A week ago Gracie gave me a gift by jumping onto a bench and sitting on my friend Kendra’s lap. In and of itself, it wasn’t a particularly magical moment, but if you consider that Gracie was very ill and hadn’t jumped onto anything in weeks and that she was normally too shy to sit in anyone’s lap, then this truly was a milestone.

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A few days after the gift, I was finally able to get Dr. Larry, Gracie’s G.P., Dr. Gerald, Gracie’s oncologist and Dr. Carolyn, Gracie’s internist to talk to each other and discuss what the next steps in Gracie’s treatment. I knew that the Myelodysplasia was a secondary reaction to something much deeper, darker, more terrifying, but what it was could not be determined by the three tests we’d already done.

For the past two plus months there were no firm answers. We’d have to accept that we’d never really know what was going on and only be able to do so much before we ran out of options.

I’d just arrived at Dr. Larry’s office to pick up a refill of one of Gracie’s medications. One of the Techs invited me to come into an exam room because Dr. Larry wanted to speak with me. This was the moment I’d been waiting for since Gracie first became mysteriously ill after coming home from a dental in August. Dr. Larry entered and looked grim. He went on to tell me that all the Vets had agreed that Gracie must have a very serious cancer, possibly biliary cystadenocarcinoma. Whatever it was, there were no more treatments, no type of chemo, just to continue on with what we were doing and keep Gracie comfortable.

He said that Gracie probably only had a few weeks, if we were lucky, a few months left to live.

I nodded that I understood, too upset to say more. I wasn’t surprised but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Gracie had had her ups and downs so many times. We were told to put her down in August and here it was nearly November and she was still with us. Even with all the stress and heartache I wouldn’t have traded those days for anything, but now even those challenging days were coming to an end, no matter what I did.

I stood at the counter, to pay for Gracie’s prescription, trying to hold back tears and failing miserably. I just wanted to go home, to be with Gracie. I just wanted to go home and have this not be happening at all...

...but I had to face the truth that after all this time, all the tests, all the medications, nothing could beat down what was going on inside her body and it was going to take her life.

There were very clear signs of decline over the past two weeks. The hardest one to witness is called Cancer cachexia. It’s basically the metabolism’s shift to provide nutrients to the cancer instead of the cat so even though I was creating high calorie food to syringe-feed Gracie, none of it was helping put any weight back on her bones. Her belly was huge and bloated from fluid, but her skin was tight against her bones all along her back and her hips. I kept hoping every time I pet her that I’d feel a tiny bit MORE padding, instead of less. Not only did she lose weight but she lost muscle mass, too, so she was getting weaker. Even with all that going against her Gracie would still get up, walk around the sofa to the litter pan there and use it over using one that was closer. She would still fuss if Sam or I had to medicate her. She was still fighting to live and I wanted to give her every chance to have every day she could.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Getting creative making cat food blends I thought Gracie would like.

I tried to find a way to get nutrition into Gracie that would make a difference but I couldn’t find a solution. I read that vitamin B12 is something cancer cats often get as another way to help keep them going. I asked if we could give that to Gracie and was told it was safe. Gracie had become more and more reluctant to eat much on her own. Even though I was supplementing her to make sure she got enough, normally she’d eat a least an ounce of food. I broke my own rules and gave her what I consider crap food-something she really liked, but yesterday she wouldn’t even bother with that.

The demands of caring for Gracie have been very great. Between her medication schedule, her feeding schedule and just routine cleaning and care, a good part of my day was spent providing for her. It was vital that her bedding be clean because of her falling white blood cell count and that her litter pan constantly scooped, her water bowl refreshed and washed because she drank a good bit of water throughout the day.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Just another feeding time.

The most important part of her care was simple; just sit with her and let her know she was loved. It was something I did every night before we went to bed. I told Gracie I loved her, that she was a good girl, to make new red blood cells, to make platelets, to make white blood cells, to feel better, that I would see her in the morning. I’d kiss her head and tell her I loved her a second time, often while I listened to her purring. I couldn't take it for granted that I's see her in the morning, so every goodnight was our last.

Yesterday it was clear that the B-12 shot had worked. Gracie was up, wobbly, but walking, all over the house. She wouldn’t rest. She was restless. She would cry in a voice I didn’t recognize. She was uncomfortable. She kept wanting us to sit with her (which we did). I’d sit on the floor and she’d climb into my lap, almost falling over to get herself settled. Then she’d lay still. Her breathing was a bit rapid and it sounded raspy. I knew she was in trouble, but thought perhaps all I needed to do was help her manage her pain.

I couldn’t do a thing all day because Gracie was up and moving around so much. She began to hide. I knew it was a very bad sign. She couldn’t go too far without having to stop and rest so I never lost sight of her. After she rested and was up again, I decided to create a hiding place for her near her bed in the living room. Once I did that she entered her little space and laid there quietly, but only for a few minutes and was up again roaming around the house searching for something or some place to go.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. My very sick sweetheart.

Late in the afternoon I caught Gracie walking over to where her daughter Petunia spends her day. Gracie was tired so I sat on the floor and she climbed into my lap. I edged myself close to the low kitty condo where Petunia was sitting. I petted Petunia and petted Gracie, mixing their scents together. Petunia drooled as I petted her, the droplets narrowly missing Gracie’s forehead. The two seemed content to be together after months of separation. Petunia was too scared to cross the living room and Gracie was too tired to make the trip herself.

We sat there until Gracie fussed and had to get up again, but the moment wasn’t lost on me that perhaps this was the final time they’d be together.

Sam and I took turns keeping an eye on her. We continued her feeding routines and medications but she was not doing well at all. I called my friend Katherine that night and asked her about giving Gracie buprenex, which is an opiate-based pain medication. I thought it would relax her enough so that she COULD rest, but the problem was, as with EVERY conversation we had about Gracie, we didn’t know what we should do. I can’t tell you how many times every single day I’d ask Sam his opinion on what we should do about feeding Gracie, when to give her medications, IF we should give her the medications, which vet I should call and what I should ask. We never found answers to be simple because we didn’t know what was going on inside her.

The latest problem we needed to solve was that the buprenex could kill Gracie because her liver was in such bad shape, but Gracie was feeling uncomfortable to the point where we needed to help her. It was not right to let it continue on.

Gracie was due for her steroid so we decided to give that to her first, wait an hour and see if she needed the burprenex after that. We’d give her a tiny dose to get her to the morning and then we’d think about what to do after that if it worked.

It was about 11 p.m. on Halloween Eve. It was the first time I didn’t decorate the house or give out candy to the kids. I hung up a sign by the front door NOT to ring the doorbell because of our sick kitty and we put out a box of candy with a second sign on it to take some, but leave some candy for others. That was all we were going to do. My favorite day of the year might as well have been any day of the year. It didn’t matter any more. There was no joy left in my heart for such things.

Gracie continued to roam the living room so Sam picked her up and I put a blanket on his lap. She settled in and he brushed and petted her. We sat quietly, the only sound was Gracie’s raspy breathing.

Gracie would often seem startled, then quickly get up and look around. She saw me and wobbled over to my lap. I was grateful to have her come to me, something she never did in over the decade she lived with us. She was always too shy to completely sit on my lap and here she was blossoming, letting go of her fear so we could connect in a way we never could before. I was so grateful to feel her warmth and silky soft fur. I sat as still as I could so she could rest, even if my legs fell asleep or I got a knot in my back. She’d move a bit here and there and I’d adjust myself to make it more comfortable for her. I prayed she’d just relax and sleep, but she could not.

Sam and I were both exhausted. We decided to set up a pen around Gracie’s hiding spot, heated bed, water dish and litter pan. That way we could get some sleep and not worry that she was going to hurt herself by falling down the stairs or hide where we couldn’t find her over night. I hated the idea of closing her off, but we knew it would only be for a few hours and in the morning we’d let her out to roam at will again.

No sooner than Sam placed her inside the pen, she collapsed. She laid down breathing rapidly. She was in distress. She cried, got up to try to make it to her litter pan, but ended up peeing onto the carpet. I scooped her into my lap and sat with her trying to soothe her. Sam got me paper towels so with one hand I cleaned up the mess while with the other I held onto Gracie trying to let her know it was all right and she was still a good girl.

I moved her over to her bed and she laid down. She couldn’t even lift her head. She was breathing quickly and moaning every so often. Sam unhooked the pen and put it away so we could both sit next to her softly petting her and talking to her as she began the last journey of her life. I tried not to cry because I wanted her to be at peace. The lights were low and the house was quiet. The cats were staying away and weren’t fighting for once. We all knew that this was Gracie’s time. We had to respect it and be there for her even though there was a strong desire to either run away or to yell at Gracie to FIGHT. Fight! LIVE! Please don’t die!

But I couldn’t do those things. As difficult as it was I had to be there for Gracie. This was when she needed us most. Bearing witness to these final moments was the price we paid for the years of unconditional love we had with her.

We sat with her for a long time and I noticed that Gracie was struggling more. I said to Sam that maybe we should bring Gracie to the emergency vet and have them help her. It was not something I wanted to say but I didn’t want Gracie to suffer any more than she already was. Here was the last, most difficult question we had to answer-quickly. We had promised ourselves that she would pass at home if possible but we couldn’t keep that promise if it meant Gracie was going to suffer so much.

It was difficult to make the choice, but I called the ER vet and said to expect us. I ran upstairs to get changed since I was wearing my pajamas. I had only started to dress when Sam called me to hurry and get back down stairs. I ran down the stairs with my PJs back on. He said that Gracie had stretched out, stiffened, then relaxed. I flashed back to my dear cat Bob. He’d done the same thing before he died. It was almost time.

We gave Gracie a few more minutes, then decided we need to get her some help. I dressed quickly and got my car out of the garage. I opened the passenger side door to make it easier for Sam to enter the car while he was carrying Gracie wrapped in a blanket in his arms.

I didn’t want to take her in the car. I didn’t want to go to the vet. I didn’t want any of this to happen. It wasn’t supposed to play out like this, not now, not in a cold, sterile vet exam room.

I carefully began the drive to the vet. It would only take about 10 minutes. The roads were strangely deserted considering it was a Saturday night and Halloween. As I drove along I asked Sam how she was doing and he’d give me an update. About halfway to the vet I asked about her again and he said in a very quiet tone; “I think she’s gone.”

I pulled over into a nearby parking lot and turned on the interior light. I looked down at her sweet face. It was clear that Gracie had passed away as Sam held her. I turned the light off and gasped hard, choking back tears.

Even though I knew what Sam would say I asked him what he wanted to do-“Go home.” was his answer. We knew that we had to bring Gracie home. The cats had to say goodbye. We needed time with her, too. I told Sam I would get us home safely. I would let myself fall apart later.

I realized with the Daylight Savings Time I didn’t know what day Gracie had died. It was just as Halloween was changing over to All Saints’ Day. It was just like Gracie to die even at a time we couldn’t make sense of. Nothing about any of the past few months made sense, yet here we were with our girl, lost to us forever.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Goodbye my love.

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Next up-a special look back at Gracie’s Wonderful Life, a memorial to one very special cat where I’ll be sharing never-before-seen photos, videos and stories about why she was so dear to us and so completely charming in everything she did.

Though her story ended with heartache far too soon, her life was filled with triumphs. I hope you’ll read on because I'm very proud of my girl and I want you all to know her as I did.

©2007 Robin AF Olson. We will always love you and never forget you, Gracie. Fly Free. 1/11/01—10/31/15.

(Continued from Parts 1, 2 and 3, 4, 5, and 6)

Both of my parents were scientists. I think that’s why when one of my cat’s gets sick I spend a great deal of time trying to sort out what is going on if we don’t have a clear cut answer. I’d been keeping a diary of when Gracie should have her meds, which meds she should get, what time I tried to get her to eat, if she ate and how much she ate. I also added other notes about her, like “Perky today” or “Kinda limp.”

When she’d do badly for a few days I'd look back over my notes for clues. Nothing added up. I also never knew if “this was it”-sort of decline or if she could rebound. We had no idea which, if any, of her medications were helping her. She’d go through periods of not eating for a day or a bit longer. I’d syringe-feed her and she’d perk up and eat again, getting her energy back, too. Though she didn’t return to her “old self” she'd sit up and meow at me when I came near or she’d, at least, walk over to the kitchen, far beyond her regular spot in the living room where she spends a majority of her day. One day I gave her a rainbow shaped catnip toy and she loved it. She even fell asleep with her head on it. She was still a cat by all definitions.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Although the catnip toy didn't make Gracie get frisky, she did really enjoy it and even nibbled on it with the few teeth she has left.

Monday arrived. Test result day. Once again my gut was in a knot. I had my phone ringer turned on and turned up. I carried my phone wherever I went. Every time someone else called me I jumped out of my skin. Would this be the day I find out my cat has a deadly cancer or would it be treatable? We’d been down this road before but truly this time we’d KNOW.

Or would we?

Dr. Carolyn called early that evening and told me that the test didn’t tell us much. There was, once again, no sign of cancer in the spleen. Gracie didn’t have hemolytic anemia. Gracie didn’t have a portal shunt in her liver. What DID Gracie have?

“We don’t know just yet.”

Dr. Carolyn went on to describe our next options. We had three:

1. Do a Tru-cut ultrasound guided biopsy of Gracie’s liver because most of the Vets on this case agreed that the culprit still is her liver. Yes, she has benign cysts there that we know of but there’s a chance there's more going on than we realize. A needle aspirate can't get enough tissue to give us a more complete picture, which is why we only found out there were cysts when we had that done a month ago. The Tru-cut would tell us what's happening in the surrounding liver tissue. Doing this type of biopsy, while gets good results, isn’t as accurate as doing a “wedge” biopsy (see below).

With this procedure there's a risk Gracie could bleed more and possibly not recover. It’s a quick procedure and the least invasive. There isn’t even a suture needed, the opening created is so tiny. They'd also do another transfusion, this time doing it FIRST to give Gracie the best chance to survive and feel good after the procedure is done. If she starts to decline they would do a SECOND transfusion, which of course adds to costs and is no guarantee she will come out of it.

Dr. Carolyn felt that this test WOULD tell us once and for all what is going on and if we knew, then there would be a chance for some sort of treatment, though a cure is very unlikely. It would buy us more quality time and we could treat her with appropriate medications and stop giving her ones she didn't need in the first place. It would cost another $1500.00 or so.

2. Do nothing. Keep Gracie comfortable and she may become so anemic she'll die. We could try to up her dose of steroids, but that's not a fix and we'll never know what happened or if we could have done something about it. She'll have much less time with us and potentially be much more uncomfortable.

3. Do a wedge biopsy of her liver. This way a surgeon would SEE her liver and be able to take a sample that was big enough to test, as well as suture closed any bleeding issues. It would cost about $5,000.00. It would likely KILL Gracie before she was even out of sedation.

It was pretty clear we really only had two options, numbers 1 and 2. I wouldn’t cut Gracie open like that. Sure, they could see what's going on, but that’s no way to die. The problem was…what DO we choose to do next?

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Laying on a pet-safe heated bed and some sunshine helps soothe Gracie's discomfort.

I’ve had a number of conversations with all the major players in our story. Two of the three said YES, do the Tru-cut. Dr. Carolyn feels there's a very good chance Gracie WILL survive the procedure. Gracie's 13, not 18. We would finally know what's going on and know if there is more to be done to help Gracie feel comfortable.

Not knowing would be a continuation of the painful roller coaster we’ve endured for months. Gracie would take a turn and we’d wonder if “this is it” yet again. If we knew this was part of her disease, it would be easier on us, too. I could ride out the lows and I’d know better when Gracie was in trouble instead of being terrified all the time. We could treat her more appropriately instead of throwing everything we’ve got at her. She would respond better, too…but there are risks and the price could be her life.

One of the Vets said not to do it because it was too risky and that some times you just don’t know and that we could come in to see him and he’d discuss treatment options. For what? What are we treating if we DON’T KNOW what it is?! Frankly, I think he was back-peddling because he should have caught something worse was going on with Gracie over a month ago and he didn’t.

Sam and I have discussed this a few times. I’ve asked questions and still have more to ask. Three days ago Gracie was not eating and I wouldn’t have done a thing to her. Today she she's on her third day of feeling perky and eating again, but how long will that last?

I want to know what’s killing my cat, but to find out she may die anyway. There’s a very decent chance she'll make it and we’ll have answers, but I have to be willing to let my cat pay the price if I’m wrong.

So now I find myself like a deer caught in the headlights. I don't know what to do. I think we should do the Tru-cut biopsy since Gracie is stable. The costs are an issue. In truth, we need help to make this happen.

If you’d like to take Gracie under your wing and help with a small donation toward her care, it could mean a world of difference to her and would honor our hard work helping others.

We get more of your donation if you donate directly using our PayPal address: info@kittenassociates.org or if you go through our DONATE page on our web site.

You can mail a check to Kitten Associates, P.O. Box 354, Newtown, CT 06470-0354. Put a note "for Gracie" it so we can direct the funds to her.

Just SHARE this with your friends who have kind hearts and love cats. That helps Gracie, too.

Your donation is Tax Deductible. K.A. is a non-profit rescue and our IRS EIN is 27-3 597692.

We will stop our fundraiser as soon as we’ve raised $2000.00, which we hope will cover Gracie's care and allow some funds to be banked in case she needs a second transfusion. Any funds we don’t use for Gracie, we'll set aside for other kitties in our program who need help like our recently rescued big guy, Barry.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Gracie.

Thank you to everyone who has been so kind to share their love, prayers and good wishes for Gracie. We can't do this without you. #ComeOnGracie #LoveYouGracie

I truly believe that sooner or later every cat will find their forever home. In some cases it's taken months and in two rare cases it's taken more than a year. Typically I'd expect it to take longer when we have an adult since without a brick and mortar shelter for people to come visit, the cat would have to be very appealing to cause someone to come over to my house to meet them (after the person goes through our screening process first). It's not ideal, but I also want to make certain the match is a good one, one that lasts a lifetime.

Enter Woody Jackson.

©2014 KittenAssociates.org. Mia after giving birth. What a great mama!

Woody was born on the last day of March in 2014 to a feral mom named Mia. Mia was toughing it out on the grounds of an apartment building where we were told they were going to start poisoning the feral cats to get rid of them. Mia, swollen with her unborn kittens would have perished if not for the efforts of a small team of very caring people. Once in our program, foster mom, Moe got to work preparing a space for Mia to safely give birth.

We were lucky in that Mia didn't lose a single kitten when she gave birth just two days after being rescued. Her kittens were a kaleidoscope of colors and patterns. We reached out to some friends and asked them to name the kittens so their names would be as varied as they were.

©2014 KittenAssociates.org. I am born. Baby Woody.

This family was like many of our others, but what was better was that they were quite a bit healthier and more robust. The months passed as the kittens grew, opening their eyes, taking their first steps, being weaned, getting their vetting done, learning to be confident kitties of the world.

The only problem with this family was Mia. She was too wild to be a pet, but I couldn't just leave her behind when it was time for her kittens to join the 1100 mile transport to my home. My job is to find the forever homes for the kittens AND mom, but what if mom wasn't adoptable?

©2014 KittenAssociates.org. Woody Jackson, named in honor of Jackson Galaxy, the stunning white cat we rescued in 2012 who passed away a few days before Woody was born.

I knew it would potentially cause me many problems to have a cat I couldn't handle mixed with friendly kittens who were ready be adopted. I also knew I couldn't work with Mia if she was with the kittens, so they needed to be adopted first.

It didn't take long before Ivy got adopted. Not long after the start of the New Year, I met a family who was interested in adopting Snickers, Woody or Greta or some combination of the three. Not everyone in the family was ready to adopt three cats, though they'd had as many as four in the past. They'd set their sights on Woody, but as they agonized over which ones to take, my hopes that Woody would be chosen began to fade.

In the end, the family adopted Snickers and Greta, leaving the mom with tears in her eyes as she left. She vowed to come back for Woody and she told Woody not to worry because he would be reunited as soon as she could get her husband on board. I'd never push an adoption like that because everyone has to agree it's something they all want. I told her not to worry and resigned myself that maybe this wasn't Woody's family.

©2014 KittenAssociates.org. Ivy (bottom left), Greta (tortie), Woody (center), Fernando (top center), Lil' Snickers (center right).

It took a few more months before Fernando was adopted. He went with Astro, who was one of Celeste's offspring. I'm glad to report that they're doing very well together.

That left Woody and Mia.

As Woody's first birthday approached, I began to worry that his home might not be out there. After nine months of living with me I'd never even gotten ONE adoption application for him. I couldn't understand it because Woody is a gem. The cat is friendly, handsome, maybe a bit too chatty, but smart. He either had an elephant head or a heart in the cow pattern on his back. What's not to love?

©2014 KittenAssociates.org. Woody and Snickers were very close. We hoped they'd be adopted together but that didn't come to pass.

I had fifteen more cats coming and needed to make room for them. Woody and Mia had to be moved to the small blue bathroom, which is where I normally have a mom and kittens. This year I couldn't rescue any pregnant cats or nursing queens because there was simply no room.

I began allowing Woody a break from being confined to one room to explore the rest of the house. He slowly began to meet some of my cats. The first two friends he made were Freya and Fluff Daddy. He was particularly close to Freya. Each night I'd let Woody out of his room. He'd start meowing frantically since he'd been bored being shut up all day. He'd race around the upstairs and play Tag with Freya. Eventually, Woody made himself a place on a soft bench next to the bed and slept near me every night.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Woody vs Freya.

Most every morning, around 4 or 5 AM, he'd also wake me up, crying to be let back into the blue bathroom so he could be with his mom. Mia was his world now and each day that passed meant it would be that much harder for him to be separated from her.

©2014 KittenAssociates.org. BFFs.

I even tried to get Mia into a situation by herself where she might become socialized but it didn't work out. After two weeks Mia returned. Woody was delighted to see her again, but I knew that it meant Mia might never leave us and both cats would be here for years. I had to do something.

But I got sick and my heart was acting wonky. Then my cat Gracie got sick. Planning an adoption event or even getting Woody's photo in the local paper just seemed to be too much to do. It was August 2015. Woody was almost a year and a half old. He wasn't getting along well with all my cats. He even began to protect the bedroom as his space, which was going to be a big problem since my other cats wouldn't tolerate that. I knew that we'd possibly start having inappropriate elimination issues crop up in the bedroom, or cat fights in the middle of the night. I couldn't come up with a solution.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Handsome young man.

One day I was going through email and one stood out to me. The subject message said "Woody." I opened it up. It was from the husband of the family who adopted Great and Snickers. He said they were ready to take Woody and when could they come get him. Nine MONTHS had passed since their adoption and just now it was time for Woody? I couldn't believe it.

It took some time before I could talk to his wife. I wanted to be sure this was a family decision. It was. Not only that, but even their two children had been asking about Woody all these months. They'd never forgotten him and they all knew that the only thing that made sense was to reunite the kittens with their brother. I couldn't have been more pleased. If Woody was adopted, then maybe I could work with Mia, at last and maybe there was a chance that Mia could eventually be ready to be adopted one day, too.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. What do you make of the patten on Woody's back? Micky Mouse elephant?

Friday night Woody's new mom came to get him. I expected to be a wreck having to let him go after all this time. I loved Woody dearly and considered him part of my family, but I also knew it was grossly unfair for him to be in a small room for a better part of the day and not be with people who would love him, play with him and give him the chance to be with his siblings again. I knew it wouldn't be effortless to reunite them. It would still take some time, but I also hoped that it would be fairly easy for them to remember each other, even after all these months.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Woody always helps with the laundry.

Sam and I packed Woody up into his new cat carrier. I gave him his blanket that smelled like his mom. I kissed him goodbye but I did not cry. I was happy for Woody because now he could really have fun in ways that I could not provide for him. As I said goodbye to his new mom, she told me if Mia came around to let her know. I couldn't imagine her being reunited with her kittens, but heck, maybe anything is possible if you give it enough time?

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Woody with his beloved mother, Mia.

It's strangely quiet with Woody gone and sadly, the only sound I can hear is of Mia. She's crying. In all the time she's been here I've only heard her hiss. She's looking for Woody. I wish I could tell her how sorry I was and that I'd like to be her friend. I knew this would be the terrible part of the adoption process, but if Mia is to have any chance at being socialized it had to be done.

Now I can focus on her and hope that one day her story will have as happy an ending as Woody's. I've already gotten an update that Woody is a love-bug and doing well. His new family is overjoyed to have him where he was meant to be all along.

©2015 Robin AF Olson. Ever the rascal. Our last night together.

©2015 Robin AF Olson.

If you'd like to read more about Mia and her family you can read
Mia's Very Long Road Part 1 and

Mia's Very Long Road Part 2

It may be long overdue but it’s no less sincere: a BIG, BIG SHOUT OUT AND THANK YOU TO Andrew, master craftsman and design daddy behind the sublime line of cat scratcher/loungers called Brawny Cat.

I’ve written about Brawny loungers before, but this lounger is different. It’s far bigger, bolder, utilizes exotic hardwoods and is completely hand built. It even had a tiny metal plaque on it that glints in the sun. It’s HUGE. It’s heavy. It’s built to last for a very long time. It’s called the Big Sleeky Comfort Throne and our little Freya is lucky enough to have one to call her own.

©2014 Robin A.F. Olson. Little Freya not long after rescue.

This story began innocently enough. Last autumn I reached out to Andrew for advice. Freya hadn’t had her surgery yet and although she loved using corrugated cardboard scratchers, she keep soiling them to the point where I was replacing them every DAY. Clearly that was not a good use of resources so I thought there had to be a better way. I knew Andrew must have scraps of laminated cardboard so I hoped I could take some of it off his hands and use those.

©2015 Robin A.F. Olson. Of course Fluff Daddy liked the box best.

Andrew chose to go above and beyond, telling me that although he was taking a short break from building cat loungers and didn’t have anything he could send me right away, that he would send me a little something later in the year. He did just that, shipping Freya a lounger that took our breath away. When a HUGE box arrived for Freya, I knew it was from Andrew. Inside the box was a breathtakingly GIGANTIC lounger, far bigger than Freya would ever need.

©2015 Robin A.F. Olson. Freya's impressed!

Within less than a second of putting the lounger on the floor, Freya ran over to it, claiming it for her own. She must have known it was for her!

©2015 Robin A.F. Olson. Lots of room to grow into-that is IF Freya grows beyond kitten-sized.

What’s not surprising is that our other ten cats have spent time on the lounger, too. Frankly, it’s rarely ever empty. That said, if Freya wants the lounger-end of discussion. She may be small, but that’s HER lounger and she’s not going to share. If she wanted to there’s plenty of room on it for two.

©2015 Robin A.F. Olson. Blitzen is a big fan!

Freya also likes to watch TV since the Throne is in view of her favorite shows. In the four months (yes, a very tardy thank you) we’ve had it, the cardboard is still in great shape and the lounger is a nice compliment to our furnishings.

©2015 Robin A.F. Olson. Blitzen showing off his modeling chops.

We also have a few Sleeky Lounges, which are a very budget friendly version of the Throne. They wear well. It’s been nearly two years since we’ve gotten those loungers and they’re still going strong and are used every day. You can see more about them here.

As most of you know, Freya did have her surgery and is doing GREAT. I’m sure if she could talk she’d thank Andrew, too, for his generosity and for his compassion for cats-especially a little kitten who needed his help.

©2015 Robin A.F. Olson. Freya watching the Secret Life of Cats-of course.