Take three cats and call me in the morning

We have three cats, which is probably one too many, but when we went to the shelter to bring home a second cat, he had a sister to whom he was very attached and upon whom he depended, and they shared a cage together and...well, you know how it is. Who could sleep at night picturing the lonely sibling left behind? Not us. So, that's how we came to have three cats.

The older cat, Riley, is like a bright-eyed, big-eared, long-legged, funny, furry son. He's very smart, very athletic, very friendly to everyone, and extremely affectionate. Of the twins (whom we couldn't separate), Maggie is braver and friendlier than her brother Dusty. She'll climb in your lap, follow you around, but if you try to pet her, she'll shrink away from your touch. Dusty, poor Dusty, has loose wiring. He's afraid of everything, but loves Jeff. Me, not so much. I can brush him and he'll purr and rub his head against my bare foot as a thank you; then I'll walk out of the room and return moments later and he'll hiss at me. Every family has a weird member. Dusty is ours.

But Riley, that sweet boy, is something special. He'll sit in my lap and bury his face in my arm, nuzzling and adjusting until he's perfectly comfortable, and totally at ease. He'll climb up on the pillow at night and curl up next to me. He leaps in the air after a tossed bottle ring and bats it like he's playing volleyball. He'll lie on the floor and when I put a sparkly ball on his paw and tell him to flip it, he does. Like I said, he's special.

When you're sick, family and friends are wonderfully supportive, but daily life goes on for them and they have responsibilities and errands to run, places to go and things to do. Cats, however, are unemployable. They prefer not to answer to anyone. They don't want responsibilities. They refuse tasks. Eat, sleep and a little playtime are their goals in life. But, explainable or not, they know when you're sick and they also, innately, know that snuggling with you is their greatest gift.

When my hair took a powder after chemo, Riley looked at me with head cocked as if to say, "Hmn. Something odd has happened here." But, he didn't shriek and run away or make wisecracks (at least, not to my face). He accepted this new look and snuggled anyway. I can't accurately describe what comfort a pet owner derives from their cat or dog. It's such a gift. And, no matter how undeserving we may be, the gift keeps coming. Absolute loyalty and pure affection. Rewarding and comforting on any given day. Even more so when illness complicates life.

And so, when Riley became ill, I wanted to return the favor. But, animals are nobler than humans. He just wanted to go off and suffer in silence, not be held and petted. He dropped from 15 pounds to 9 pounds. A bag of bones with huge intelligent eyes. From near infancy, he's been on a 3x/weekly pill for an allergy to his own teeth. He's had his teeth cleaned several times and a few pulled, but had never lost weight like this. He was on a couple of antibiotics, then ultimately diagnosed with pancreatitus. That earned him a $100 bottle of powdered enzymes to be mixed in with his food. But that didn't seem to bring about a change. Poor guy was constantly hungry and scavenging for food. Back to the Vet for the third time in a month. He determined that cleaning and pulling teeth was necessary again to rid Riley of the infection that was being released into his system.

Jeff and I were relieved, in a way, because we were worried that maybe Riley too was battling cancer -- but fearful that having to put Riley under anesthesia in his weakened state might be life threatening.

He had a Monday morning appointment for his dental surgery, which meant no food after 10 p.m. Sunday. Let me tell you, there is little that is more heartbreaking than trying to explain to a starving cat why you've taken his food away. When I left for work Monday morning, he followed me, pleading his case, and then just stared at me as I opened the door to leave. I felt like a neglectful mom.

Jeff promised to call me at work as soon as the Vet called him with a report on how Riley was doing. I kept calling Jeff to see if he'd heard anything yet.

I try not to bother God with personal requests, as he has bigger things to do, and from my diagnosis through today, I haven't asked Him for courage or personal favors, but I confess I did ask him to return Riley to us safe and sound. He created these perfect little creatures, so He understands.

I'm happy to report that our furry little best pal came home in the car with Jeff and me Monday afternoon. He growled for a few minutes to let us know of his displeasure with our betrayal but, forgiving little fellow that he is, soon curled up in my lap and took a nap.

I'm pretty sure, for me, that ranks right up there with modern medicine in speeding up my recovery.