And Then He Purred
A mom and her 3 kittens were in an overcrowded Humane Society. They had little chance of being adopted. As is the case in many overcrowded shelters, decisions have to be made by the caretakers. Hard decisions.
Mom kitty was sick, so were her babies. They all had upper respiratory infections and I knew that meant they would be on top of the euthanasia list. I didn’t need more cats. Not even 1 more. But I could not see them and not help them. So they came home with me that day. I couldn’t trust they’d still be at the shelter if I came back later.
My nephews named the little long-haired calico kitten Doll Face. Mom was simply named Mama and the 2 brown tiger striped boys I named Amos and Andy. Amos was friendly. Andy was most definitely not.
Amos, Doll Face and Mama craved my attention, purring if they even caught sight of me. Andy stayed away from me in the building they were in and I wondered if he’d ever warm up. I tried many times to socialize him and he was not having any of it.
As the kittens became young adults I allowed them to climb trees and run and play on the farm. We are situated up a 1/3 mile lane in an area where there is no traffic if someone did decide to make the trek down the lane. Amos, Doll Face and Mama always greeted me as if I was their best friend. Andy did not.
Years passed quickly and I lost Mama first, then Doll Face. Amos was (and still is) a huge sedentary cat that does not stray far away from the food bowls. Andy became a hunter, a wanderer, that would show up once a week to eat and get close enough for me to touch him. If I tried to, he quickly scooted away.
For years I tried to acclimate him to a building but he yowled and climbed the walls, attacked the other cats and refused to eat. He would, on occasion, stay in one of the barns well set up for our feral cats where he could get away easily if need be. Apparently from me.
Each time he came back he was in good health: good body weight, immaculately groomed, bearing no battle scars. I suspected he had other “homes” where he ate and I wondered if Andy let anyone pet him in those homes. Not that it mattered.
For more than 15 years (likely closer to 20) we did our dance. He showed up, got close, darted away, ate and left. He’d return the next week and we’d dance again.
At times his proclivity for solitude saddened me. At other times, I was impressed by his insistence to be who he was. I admired his freedom and unabashed ability to be Andy.
Andy appeared at the door last night, meowing and carrying on as if I was his new best friend. He’d been away for a month this time, a whole month, and I assumed he’d either decided to stay at another of his homes or something bad had happened to him.
I was glad to see him but not glad to see his body condition. He was emaciated and — without thinking — I immediately picked him up. He did not claw me or try to get away and Andy ate and drank as if he’d been without food or water for the whole month he was gone.
I nestled him into a large cage with a soft bed and plenty of food and water and he didn’t yowl or howl. I gave him fluids under his skin to hydrate him more quickly and he didn’t even flinch when the needle pierced his leathery skin.
Instead, he purred. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he purred. It was the first time I’d ever heard him —I’d spent a lifetime of waiting for just 1 Andy purr. And here they finally were, years of muffled, hidden purrs finally, loudly and exuberantly expressed.
I was up with him several times in the night to be sure he was doing well. Each time he saw me coming he purred. Loudly. I sat with him on my lap and he nuzzled into me, contentedly kneading the air.
As I petted his soft, furry tummy I felt a large lump. I’m pretty familiar with cat anatomy and this lump was not something I’d felt before with any of my other rescues. So I called the vet and took Andy in first thing this morning. An ultrasound showed a mass and the vet was unsure if it was an enlarged kidney or indeed a mass. Andy’s bloodwork results were not alarming so I took him home and got him settled in.
Much of my day was spent checking Andy and snuggling him. Each time he purred. I was thankful he had come home for me to help him. As I have found over the years, cats sometimes go off on their own if they are very sick. Sometimes they sadly go off to die alone. But Andy came home. Even though most of his life had been spent avoiding me, of living elsewhere, when he knew his time was coming to a close, he came home. To me.
When I just checked Andy he was having a major seizure so I did all those things I’ve learned over the years to help a cat in their time of need. It was clear nothing I was doing was helping. It was clear there was no time to get him to the vet’s. It was clear Andy was dying.
As Andy died, he gave me a memory I will never forget. He looked deeply, lovingly into my eyes. And then he purred…
Jackie Deems Copyright 2019
