A week of anguish - Part II

Asa's speedy recovery from injury was the good news. The not-so-good news is that at the same time I was dealing with the horse issue (and hoping it wouldn't require an extravaganza of diagnostic technology - and beaucoup $$$), I was dealing with what I knew would be the final days of my wonderful kitty, Pumpkin.

I hate reading other people's wrenching stories about losing beloved animals...only a few other things in Life can yank my heart out more agonizingly than that. I never could watch "Old Yeller," or "The Yearling." I mean even "Bambi" had its tough moments for me.

A good friend who deals with horses, and whose brother is a vet, told me that while he has a very hard time dealing with catastrophic horse injuries, his brother is, not surprisingly, just superb at it. But, ironically, by contrast, his brother can't deal with seriously or fatally injured people, while my friend responds immediately and copes magnificently.

Well, I never had the desire to be a nurse, or doctor, or vet, and while I can manage dealing with the various smaller creatures my felines have brought to me proudly as as "gifts" - sometimes ghastly reminders of their hereditary prowess as hunters - I have a very hard time dealing with the inevitable demise of one of my "children."

Pumpkin was very much like his predecessor, the late, great Carson, whom I had for 18+ years, and had lost to old age six months before Pumpkin was urged upon me. Both long-haired and fluffy, they truly were extraordinary cats. In fact, I'm not even sure either was a cat. They were much more like dogs. They never were aloof or frightened by people. They would walk up to anyone, greet them and check them out.

Both Carson and Pumpkin, respectively, were young strays when they each arrived at my door - Carson in 1976 and Pumpkin nearly 20 years later in 1995. They each soon imprinted on me as their surrogate mother. We bonded quickly, although Pumpkin had a relentless loud purr like a motorboat that I found rather annoying initially, but I got over it eventually. It was his way of speaking. They both responded to me like dedicated retrievers. They would follow me around the house, outside, anywhere I was is where they wanted to be. They would protect and defend me against all manner of larger creatures - even dogs much larger than they. They were tough and they stood their ground.

When I lived at the farm, which is where Pumpkin and I spent most of our 10 years together, I would often come home from a day at work, or running errands, to find Pumpkin wandering down the road looking for me. He never went so far as to be in danger (ours was a minimally populated, short dead-end road), but he just wanted to be sure he knew I was coming back. He was a real watchdog. And a real buddy. I will certainly miss him. I already do. I have several other kitties with their own unique personalities, but none of them is quite like Pumpkin (or Carson, for that matter). I don't expect to have another one like him, but perhaps sometime another will arrive equally unexpectedly and charm me again, in that special way they both did.

The upside, if there is one, to this loss is that, apart from all the warm-fuzzies he ceaselessly gave me, Pumpkin's most important gift to me may be that I've discovered I've become much less squeamish about dealing with the difficult side of caring for pets. Maybe it's just a function of age and experience, and acceptance of the inevitable, but I now can hook up a line, attach a hypodermic needle and administer subcutaneous fluids...not something I ever had to do with an animal (or a person) before, although I've been invovled as a groom when it was needed, and routine, to hydrate a top level event horse after the rigors of a cross-country competition. I've never liked needles, but I learned I can do whatever I have to do if it means the difference between life and death, or a question of easing an animal's pain. That's something I had to do with Pumpkin and it's something I now can do for whatever animal may need me to help them. For that, and for everything else he was to me, I will be forever grateful to my very special Punkie pal.