I first met Orlando in the summer of 2004. He was about 6-8 weeks old, feral, hungry and homeless, but too timid to let me get near him. I bought some Friskies kitten formula and set it out for him. But after a few days, the unknown kitten vanished and the kitten formula went onto the shelf. At that time I was living with Rosalind, a very senior cat of 18 years. She was the survivor of a pair of calico sisters, named Rosalind and Celia for the heroines of Shakespeare’s As You Like It. Celia had died of pancreatic cancer in February of that year. (Rosalind finally using up her 9th life just shy of 21 years.) In October 2004 I was in my vegetable garden harvesting late tomatoes when I saw the same kitten, now about 5 months. He walked up to me as I sat on the ground, put his front paws on my knee, looked me in the face and informed me he was moving in. There is absolutely no other way to describe it. When he stood on his hind legs, his male gender was obvious, and I explained that all my life I’d had only female cats. He said “I’m moving in.” I then explained that he was young and energetic but Rosalind was very old. I was no spring chicken myself. He’d be joining two creaky old ladies. He said, “I’m moving in.” He was right. I picked him up and carried him inside, setting up a station for him in my second bedroom, with the kitten food, water, and his own cat box and kitty bed. Rosalind was disconcerted when she woke from a nap and discovered she had a roommate. As the beloved of Rosalind in As You Like It was Orlando, the name was a no-brainer. I wasn’t mistaken when I worried about the difference in energy level. Orlando wanted to play, Rosalind wanted to nap. She was nearly deaf; he would sneak up behind her and pounce on her tail. I tried using a squirt gun to dissuade him. At first, Orlando was startled, and then he thought it was a new fun game. He became one of the rare cats who like water, splashing in puddles when it rained, running through sprinklers, jumping in the tub after I showered to roll around in the damp (and get muddy paw prints everywhere). In fact, there was little Orlando did not like, except raccoons. A raccoon came through the kitty door and attacked him when he was about 8 months old. Not only was he terrified of raccoons afterwards, unfortunately, he associated the subsequent trip to the veterinary clinic with the attack and went from being an angel at the vet (when he went to be neutered, the whole staff wanted to catnap him) to being scared witless. Orlando had two sisters who did not want to be tamed. He continued to play with them in the yard and I set out food. One of the sisters vanished; the other showed up with a litter. I realized if I did not stop the reproduction I’d soon be feeding 20 cats. I trapped mama and her kittens and closed them up in Orlando’s room overnight. The next morning it took four of us to load them into carriers for a trip to the vet. Mama had torn the room apart, shredding paperback books, gouging plaster out of the walls and knocking over everything that could be knocked. Feral females who have had kittens never tame; I had her spayed and vaccinated, made up a bed in the garden shed while she slept off the anesthesia, and let her go. The kittens remained. While mama had ripped the place apart, the kittens were soaring about the room, never touching ground, with such an amazing display of leaps and turns it was obvious they were going to be ballet dancers when they grew up. So I named them for Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf (Rudy) Nureyev. With mama gone, the kittens decided Orlando was their mom. They had their teeth and were eating solid foods but not yet totally weaned, so Orlando breast-fed them. Not that he produced milk, but apparently they got some comfort from suckling. Unfortunately, he got an abscess when one of the kittens’ sharp little teeth punctured him. The vet said it was the first time he’d ever seen a male cat with an infected mammary gland. Orlando needed heavy antibiotics, which played merry hell with his digestion. Then he needed probiotics and yogurt for “colon health”. I was able to give him the pills but he did not like yogurt. Rudy and I ate the yogurt, so we have healthy digestions. Eventually, Orlando’s system restored itself, to my intense relief. Margot and Rudy retained their feral inheritance; at age 8, they have never tamed. The mobile vet spayed and neutered them, but while they know their names and come home to eat, they are essentially feral, and cannot be picked up or touched. They are Orlando’s cats, not my cats. Orlando taught them to hunt, and taught them how to use the cat box, scratching post, and kitty door. They would sit up very alert and serious as he demonstrated sharpening his claws on the post, then each kitten would sharpen his or her already very sharp little claws. He brought them prey he had hunted, even when they were full grown and able to hunt on their own. He would round them up in the morning to come home and eat breakfast. He was Mr. Mom Cat. As the biggest cat in the neighborhood by far (picture a feline Shaquille O’Neal) Orlando soon became head cat, by virtue of winning every fight. Other cats were welcome in his yard as long as they showed proper respect. I would often see Orlando sitting up on a tree stump while neighborhood cats gathered round communicating. I think he was like the Godfather, to whom everyone brought their problems and disputes. Orlando loved his house, his garden, his kittens, his cat friends, his human. He was a perpetually happy cat who always seemed to be purring, with tail aloft. Last June I noticed that whenever he breathed, his lower abdomen jerked. I wondered if he had an obstruction, so I brushed him, a way to touch him all over. There was no pain response, he just purred, as he also loved being brushed. I took him to the vet. He was there 12 hours getting tests, X-rays, and ultrasounds. The upshot was Orlando had severe congestive heart failure. Cats don’t show symptoms until they are very far along. The doctor said the usual prognosis is a year, but Orlando’s damage was so severe he probably would not last that long. They drained 180 cc of fluid from Orlando’s chest cavity, approximately 6 oz. Picture that pressing on the lungs of a 13-lb. animal. He was put on Lasix and Plavix; later, blood pressure medication was added. At first Orlando seemed himself, just tired. A 9 year old cat that sleeps a lot is hardly unusual. He even brought me a mouse for my birthday; not sure how he knew. Unfortunately the fluid came back. He was drained again, and this time improvement in his breathing was minimal. Although the vet kept increasing the dosage of Lasix, the fluid kept returning. By the evening of Sept. 20 his breathing was so strained the effort lifted his whole body off the ground with every breath. He had stopped most of his normal activities. His appetite was good but he had lost a great deal of weight, burning so many calories just to keep his heart and lungs functioning. At 1 AM Sept. 21 I gave him pain medication but it did not seem to help. At 4 AM I asked him to hold on for 30 minutes while I showered and dressed, then brought him to the 24-hour clinic. The doctor told me the Lasix was no longer working at all, although Orlando was taking a very high dose. He said he could drain Orlando but the fluid would be back in a week. I could not see torturing poor Orlando for another week of life. He is now buried in our garden. Orlando 2004-2013
Sorry for your loss. We've had cats for 30 years. The sad thing is they all have much shorter life spans than we do. They are great companions, and each unique individuals. I know what you're going through, and went through leading up to the end. It sucks.
As a cat lover, I am sorry for your loss. When I was younger, one of our cats had to be put to sleep and he decided his last night on earth would be spent in my room.
I am not a big cat person but when dad & I lived alone (I was a freshman in HS) he was given a cat with some form of cerebal palsey. It walked like it has Parkinson's and saw triple vision. Nonetheless, it was the single most loving cat I have ever seen. She only lived 2 years but was a wonderful pet.
Sorry for your loss crandc. There is nothing more pure than a cats love to it's owner. Remember all the good times you got to spend with orlando and take solace in that he is no longer in pain. Thanks for sharing the stories, I thoroughly enjoyed them.
I'm sorry for your loss. Pets become like a crazy friend. They are generally awesome, and then once in a while they are like "FUck off, don't pet me!"
Crandc As some one who prefers the company of The Boxer to most people, I also understand the nature of the relationships we enjoy. Orlando was lucky to have allowed you to share his life. I am sure that you were great for each other. I know you can never replace one friend with another, but his final gift to you is to leave you with a space in your heart to once again fill, as you cherish his memory.
I'm a cat lover too, crandc, and I know how hard it is to lose one of our feline friends. Wishing you the best and, when the time is right, may another purr ball find its way into your life.
Not a cat person, but I'm sad for you in your grief. I seem to remember a thread from awhile ago that talked about him being sick---I'm glad that you got the extra time with him that you did.
I'm happy that you were so fortunate that you had 9 years with such a cool character. I'm a dog person but we've had many cats, and nobody on the planet is hipper than a cat. [video=youtube;Jkft0fca0i4]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jkft0fca0i4[/video]
My ex-wife sleeps with her dog. He's a big, lean, handsome blond. He now often decides to sleep downstairs on the sofa. She comes down about midnight and tucks a blanket around him.
Good story! I hate cats, but I'm glad you find love in those pesky furry animals. Sorry for your loss; I know about loss and it sucks.
My eyes got a little soggy, what a heartfelt eulogy sorry for your loss, and for this one time only...GO A's!
Very touching, heartwarming, and tear jerking eulogy. Losing an animal is something that is very hard and the more you loved them the harder it is to let them go. They love you unconditionally and are always the most happy to see you come home and the saddiest to see you leave. The love for your cat and his love for you Is something special that will last for as long as you hold his memory dear. I hope there is another furry little friend that will snuggle his/hers way into your heart. I am very sorry for your loss and would like to thank you for sharing the story of Orlando with us. Sent from my SPH-L710 using Tapatalk 2
