Note the paw
I must admit that this is being posted posthumously. Maybe it’s because we’d already lost Sasha or maybe because she wasn’t as close to me as she was to Inna. Either way, I’m attempting to correct an oversight.
We lost Alex today. She’d always been a paranoid cat–the first to run and hide when visitors came or when the garbage trucks rumbled by. Recently, she’d taken to spending most of her time hiding. At first, this was nothing new. She didn’t get along with a couple of the cats here and they harrassed her when we weren’t around. We did what we could but ultimately, she was on her own for hours at a time.
She had Sasha. She and Sasha were close. At least for most of their lives. As Sasha’s cancer started to limit her movement, Alex also seemed to become more touchy. She used to spend a lot of time sitting next to Inna when she was on the couch but that changed. Once Sasha passed away, she took to hiding all day. At first, we just assumed it was just her handling Sasha nad her trouble with the other cats. But, then when we started finding her in her “safe house” behind the washer and dryer, we started to worry. When she started peeing under herself back there because she didn’t want to leave, we took her to the vet.
After a couple of trips we secluded her in a bathroom to allow her some peace from the other cats and to observe her better. It was a roller coaster ride at that point. She started getting better, sitting in the sink, looking content. But then she’d relapse and go hiding. We took her to the emergency clinic on Sepulveda in West LA one night after finding her seemingly paralytic. Her whiskers trembled and twitched and her pupils were dilated. She seemed like she couldn’t move.
At the clinic (actually, more of a full blown hospital), she got fluids and they tried to figure out what was going on. Some sort of neural disorder? Virus? No idea. At one point there was talk of a stroke. But, then 24 hours later, she was doing better. On a hunch, the doc put her on anti-vertigo medication and she was home a day later.
Again, she seemed to improve. Things were moving along. We were slowly taking her off the battery of meds she’d been on (antibiotics, anti-vertigo, anti-justabouteverything) Inna took her to the vet on 11/24 (Monday) for a checkup and to see if we can stop one of the last medications. The doc said she looked good and I went to pick her up from Inna’s office. Once I got her home, though, things didn’t look good at all. She was barely willing to leave the carrier and her pupils were dilated. By the evening, I was debating with my wife if we should take her to the clinic again. She was barely moving, breathing heavy. Inna didn’t want to take her in. We’d been taking her into vets and the hospital so much we felt it wasn’t a good idea to traumatizer any more. I also think Inna knew this time she wasn’t going to make it.
The next morning, Inna took Alex to the California Animal Hospital (where the doc was) and she promptly got a call 20 minutes later when she got to work. Alex flatlined. The doc wanted to know if she wanted to resuscitate. Inna said no and Alex was gone.
We still don’t know what it was that killed her. Her blood work told the docs nothing except maybe that she was fighting a slight infection (though the numbers weren’t 100% on that). She was eleven years old. It always seems we lose cats to unknown illnesses, only because no one gives a shit enough to research and understand what they die from.
Alex was the first rescue we ever snatched off the street. She was this little kitten dying a slow death from some sort of upper respiratory infection. My wife, ever the magnet for lost animal souls, found her amongst a cat colony around the last house on an apartment row across Sepulveda from the Galleria (Yes, THAT Galleria…like, oh my god). The old lady living at the house was one of those types that didn’t care for them but did put food out and let them breed. There were a solid number of cats (had to have been at least 20-30).
The day after Inna decided to organize a rescue (she got latex gloves from work, a cardboard box, the works), she found her on the driveway for an apartment building next door to the house. A tiny kitten some how not flattened by cars exiting the garage. Inna snatched her up and packaged her up…unfortunately, not well since she escaped and was running around the car on the way in.
Alex spent a solid six or more months on meds and in our care. She was tiny, fitting easily into my palm. She spent loads of nights sleeping on a towel in my lap, snorting on the phlem choking her. Eventually she pulled through. The interesting discovery was that she had an extra digit on every paw…I guess it’s called polydactylism. It made her stand like she was a ballerina…which was funny given the fact that I likened her to a street punk.
She lived in my office until we had a disagreement that involved her eventually crapping on my books. Let’s just say she wouldn’t listen and instead decided to freak out (I take plenty of blame, so…).
At that point, she got the boot and joined the two cats we’d bought (the only ones we bought) in the living room. From that point on, she was always in contention with some other cat. Still. She outlived my little Amanda. And Sasha, by a few months.
I remember how she would sound. Not exactly the voice of a diva but you always knew it was her. Because of that episode above, she tended to eye me warily but eventually she warmed a bit to me. Even so, she was 100% Inna’s cat. She always came to her for comfort and was always at Inna’s feet in the mornings. And, she loved to go outside…even though she often ended up running away from the outside cats.
So, though it’s delayed, Alex, I hope you’re happier and calmer where you are now. No more enemy cats on the horizon. No more garbage trucks to worry about. Just you and Sasha hanging out in the ether. While you might not look forward to seeing me again, I hope to see you (hopefully after a LONG while). I know Inna misses you. Seems fitting that Mozart’s Requiem (intro) just came up in the iTunes rotation. Requiem aeternam dona eis, Dominae, et lux perpetua luceat eis. They deserve it.
kn
