This poem is dedicated to all animal rescuers and to our volunteers and fosters. We all know exactly what this poem means to us. This is also dedicated to the three very young kittens and the young daddy that survived the terrible 3 week ordeal they endured in the freezing weather in a fast food parking lot only because our dedicated volunteers and rescuers cared enough to take the time out to rescue them.
Thanks!
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I WOULD'VE DIED THAT DAY IF NOT FOR
YOU |
"It was two years ago this past October. The night was probably similar to countless other nights at the East Side pound. On this particular night, however, there was an old, yet exceptionally strong spirit occupying kennel number 292. How old was this spirit? No one knew exactly. Even if the elderly cat could have told you himself, he had lost count a few years ago. He was certainly over 10, and there was the strong probability he was closer to 20 than 15. He had many aches and pains and he highly suspected he may even have the beginnings of a disease which would be the eventual end of him. He knew he was far from certain about that, however, and supposed it did no good to speculate. While much about his life at the moment was uncertain, one thing was sure: He was old and wise enough to know he was in a scary place that in all likelihood would be the death of him long before he'd succumb to any disease naturally.
In
his brief time at the pound, he'd seen the men in brown uniforms come and take
away cats far younger, cuter and more sociable than he. These cats didn't come
back, and when he'd see the kennel workers move through the halls later in the
day, it was clear their shoulders were more slumped, burdened with the weight
of the task they had completed.
Yes, the old cat was no fool; he knew what awaited him. Yet what he couldn't
figure out was how he had gotten to this place. He had so many fond memories.
He was sure the warmth of a soft blanket on top of a sofa wasn't something he
had dreamt; he had felt that warmth once. He was equally sure he remembered
wonderful people smiling at him, talking softly about how much they loved him
and stroking his fur. He winced a bit at that last thought and shifted his
position on the concrete so his mats wouldn't be pulling so intensely at his
skin. Yes, he was certain this had been his life before. He was old, but
he wasn't senile; he knew he had these things once.
When morning arrived, the old, gray feline slowly stretched out his aching
joints, moving cautiously towards the front of the cage. Once again, the men
in brown uniforms moved down the hallway as the gray cat held his breath. He
had truly thought today would be the day they'd come for him, but to his
surprise and relief, once again he was passed over.
He was settling in for the day when he heard girls talking. It was lively,
spirited conversation and yes, he was sure he was hearing laughter! Peering
through the chain link, he took a closer look at these women. They too were
wearing what appeared to be uniforms but these were white, with brightly
colored pictures on them. As they moved from cage to cage, they were intent on
the cats in front of them, diligently opening cages, lovingly petting and
comforting each cat. They'd make notes on each, and then move on to the next
cage. When the red headed gal got to his cage, the gray man stood as tall and
proudly as he could and looked right at the woman. As he stared at her,
however, a look of incredible sadness washed over the woman's face. Lovingly,
she said, "Hey, buddy, you're okay", as she bent down to stroke his
forehead through the chain link. But the stroke only lasted a split second,
and then she walked away. As he intently watched her, he was sure he saw her
cross a number off her notepad.
Those are the facts. He wasn't supposed to come with us on October 14th, 2001.
To this day, no one is sure exactly how it happened and how he ended up with
the ten other cats we brought with us to University Animal Hospital after our
pound run.
Another fact: We thought seriously about bringing him back to the pound. He
was older than the hills. He was in terrible shape. Despite his incredibly
matted body, you could see how thin and dehydrated he was at a glance; I
highly suspected he was in kidney failure. I have few rules that I won't
bend on occasion, but there are a couple and one is this: I never ask
someone to do something I wouldn't do myself. And I knew how badly I didn't
want to be the one to take him back to the pound. Jennifer Klein, Lisa Thomas
and I made a pact amongst us that we would test him and do blood work. One
step at a time. If his FeLV and FIV tests came back negative and his blood
work was fine, well, then we'd have to figure out where we went from there.
His tests came back pretty normal. FIV and FeLV were negative. He might be in
early kidney failure, but his blood work wasn't too bad. Now came the
question: Who would adopt such an old cat who was most likely in the beginning
stages of kidney failure? He certainly couldn't move into an adoption center.
This guy needed foster care.
Sometimes the generosity of the foster base takes my breath away. We found a
foster home almost immediately. We felt he'd never be adopted and the foster family
knew this when they agreed to take him in. We all thought he'd live out his
final days as a RESCUE cat. This seemed to be more of a certainty as time wore
on and his kidney values became worse. In early 2002, one vet gave him 3-6
months to live. However, while his spirit may be older than the hills, it's
equally as strong. Not only is he probably the oldest animal to leave the
pound alive, he continues to survive and thrive despite his failing kidneys.
He sleeps most of the day; but I think he does so because he feels entitled
and goodness knows he is. And he now has a soft, warm blanket on top of a
cushy sofa. At night, he sleeps in a bed with people who love him. He sees
them smiling at him, hears them talking softly to him and feels their strokes
on his soft gray fur that is no longer entangled with mats pulling at his
skin. Most importantly, he has heard them telling him how much they love him.
In fact, so much so that they couldn't let another day go by without him being
their own. Yes, he's been living with Angel and Brian for quite awhile, but
now he knows the warmth and love of a family finally.
Congratulations, Matt. Despite the tremendous odds, you made it."
I was there at the pound that day in October 2001, and I have no idea how Matt
managed to get rescued that day. We had a certain number of cats we were
taking, and somehow someone took a cat that was not on our list out of a cage
and put him in a carrier. Nobody at the RESCUE van noticed we had an extra cat
carrier with an extra cat, even though we check and double-check our lists. It
was the day after my dad died, and this cat, that we have been calling
"old man" has always had a special place in my heart.
We adopted Matt yesterday, Christmas day, after fostering him for over 2
years. He is now named Ra, so he will really fit in with the other cats, who
are all named after Egyptian gods and goddesses (and yes, they had been
teasing him that he was still a foster cat after such a long time).
Angel
Special thanks to Angel Biezeman of
R.E.S.C.U.E. for allowing us to post this rescue story on our website. For
more information about R.E.S.C.U.E. please see their website at:
