Missy, saved by a brave foster parent . . .

As I write this, "Missy" is lying on my desk, shaped like a comma, looking at me with her head upside down and purring.  It's hard to believe that only 2 weeks ago I was sitting in the shelter vet's office crying because I was sure she was not going to make it. 

When I first saw her in the shelter I thought I had never seen a cat look so miserable--she was so sick, drooling profusely, unable to breathe through her nose, not eating, curled into a tight ball in her litter box and coated with a nasty combination of saliva and stinky litter.  How could anyone resist wanting to help her?!

She went to the sick ward at the shelter and despite the efforts of vet staff and volunteers, she continued without improvement and getting her out of the stress and hubbub was her only chance.  When I brought her home she immediately hid behind the toilet; recoiling from food, petting and even water.  And when I tried to syringe anything into her mouth she salivated such a foamy mess that there was no getting anything into her.  She was so dehydrated yet every attempt to get water into her by mouth only caused her body to lose more hydration because of the drooling.  I was at a loss and spent much of the first night lying on the bathroom floor quietly urging her to live.

After my tearful discussion with the vet the next day, I was sent home with a liter bag of saline, 24 sterile needles, instructions for twice-a-day hydration, injectable meds and reassurance that I could do this.  Thankfully, I had friends with experience who were willing to come to my house to administer the fluids. Scared as I am of needles however, I was going to have to give some of the injections.

Here’s what I learned: 

1. Somehow you can do what you have to do when there’s no alternative.
2. There are lots of really good and generous people in this world who will help you.
3. Cats forgive and forget very readily and humans could do well to follow their example.

Now that she is well, I am learning something about Missy and her probable former life.  I know that she trusts people and wants to be around them.  I know that she is a confident cat.  I can tell that whoever her people were, they didn’t play with her or pet her much because I am having to teach her about toys and hands.  She’s getting the hands part but still doesn’t know why the heck I keep rolling balls at her!

I also know that when she stretches her paws in my direction and let’s out an audible yawn (as she just did) she knows she is safe and she knows she is loved—because she surely is.