Today is a year since one of our two cats died. When I was thinking of getting cats I decided that the breed Russian Blue would be ideal because they don't have the same instinct as other cats do to check their territory regularly, so an owner wouldn't feel bad about keeping them in a flat. I put my name down for two kittens with a breeder. She telephoned me some weeks later and told me that the mother had poisoned them with her milk after something that she ate. To be honest, I couldn't really afford them.
A couple of years later Pat from the Russian Blue Protection Society telephoned out of the blue. They had two four year old cats that needed rehousing, their owner had had a breakdown apparently and they needed a new home urgently after another potential owner had let them down. The old owner was a church goer and so the cats were staying at her vicar's house in Harlow New Town.
We took the train from Liverpool Street, Lisa and I, and the vicar collected us from the station. The cats were very frightened, they were shut in a strange room with five others living in the house beyond. Knowing them now, they are such scared cats and cry and cry as if they are travelling to their execution whenever they take the shortest trip to the vet's, I should imagine that the experience was terrifying for them. Lilly and Leila, or Boots and Sniffy as they were to become, cowered in their box. But then Sniffy ventured out, walked right up to me and started purring. The vicar was surprised and explained that although Lilly (Boots) had occasionally shown an interest in him, this was the first time in all the days that they were boarding at the vicarage that Leila (Sniffy) had done so. Since Sniffy had chosen me I felt obliged to take them home. They didn't stop mewing throughout the whole journey but Lisa and I felt proud to have two such beautiful cats.
So Sniffy lived with me for eight years. I don't think she liked me all that much although she did give me some affection now and again. Consuelo certainly got along well with her when they met and they had an understanding.
Sniffy had always been a bit ill. I took her to the vet again and again but they never knew why she had this persistent sniff and blocked up nose. It all but disappeared after Consuelo started giving her bottled water though, strangely enough. Then she got cystitis but the vet's treatment didn't work. I should have taken her back to see him sooner. She was losing weight.
When we did go, the vet didn't know what was wrong, she took three trips to the surgery on Dalston Lane and had x-rays and blood tests. So we took her to the surgery off Mare Street and it turned out that she had cancer, then she didn't, then she did again after Consuelo took her to North London on the tube for an ultrasound scan. Consuelo was very dedicated to Sniffy.
The vet there was a charming man called Brian. I was telling Sniffy's story to Amber in the pub one night and Amber recognised the vet. Her and her boyfriend Andy know him as 'Sex Brian' on account of the fact that he was very sexy and telephoned her at all hours to give her updates on Chanel's health when Chanel was in his care.
Although Consuelo moved out last year in the autumn she spent most of summer in Spain too. I spent weeks alone sitting with Sniffy in the living room, because she would insist on sleeping on the table there, keeping an eye on her so that she could get to her food, to her tray and then back onto the table. She was too weak to manage it herself. In her last days I began to gave her a supplement, iP6, because it has had very positive results reported in animal models of the type of cancer that Sniffy suffered from. The doses that I gave her, mixing the powder in the water, were, on reflection, too high and I do hope that my administering it didn't contribute to her death. iP6 chelates iron and can therefore perhaps cause electrolyte imbalance of the heart (this seems to be my experience being both anaemic and prone to arrhythmia and having taken this supplement at some point although I can't remember why.) I feel sure that this is a possibility and I feel guilty, not only for being careless with the dose but also for not having investigated this and given it to her weeks earlier.
On one occasion Consuelo found her in the morning hanging from a chair. She had tried to jump onto it, not been able to and her claws had left her attached to it through the night. She was too weak to pull herself up or her paws out. How sad.
On the way back from the vet's after the final trip we stopped in London Fields and let her have a roam around. She was ever so skinny and slow so there was no chance of her escaping into the wild but we did have to hide her from an enthusiastic puppy at one point. We also let her explore the pavement beside the school on Mapledene Road. She just lay down and basked in the sunshine.
Yes, Sniffy was a very good cat. A little obsessed with food but a very good cat never the less. She was thoughtful and gentle. She died at home a year ago today, lying on the sofa. I have never seen anyone die and it was a bad experience. She choked, stretched out her neck and, after an age, let out this awful sigh and then keeled over. I couldn't quite believe it.
Hiroe kindly accompanied Consuelo to my parents' house in Huntingdon where Sniffy is now buried in the garden.
A couple of years later Pat from the Russian Blue Protection Society telephoned out of the blue. They had two four year old cats that needed rehousing, their owner had had a breakdown apparently and they needed a new home urgently after another potential owner had let them down. The old owner was a church goer and so the cats were staying at her vicar's house in Harlow New Town.
We took the train from Liverpool Street, Lisa and I, and the vicar collected us from the station. The cats were very frightened, they were shut in a strange room with five others living in the house beyond. Knowing them now, they are such scared cats and cry and cry as if they are travelling to their execution whenever they take the shortest trip to the vet's, I should imagine that the experience was terrifying for them. Lilly and Leila, or Boots and Sniffy as they were to become, cowered in their box. But then Sniffy ventured out, walked right up to me and started purring. The vicar was surprised and explained that although Lilly (Boots) had occasionally shown an interest in him, this was the first time in all the days that they were boarding at the vicarage that Leila (Sniffy) had done so. Since Sniffy had chosen me I felt obliged to take them home. They didn't stop mewing throughout the whole journey but Lisa and I felt proud to have two such beautiful cats.
So Sniffy lived with me for eight years. I don't think she liked me all that much although she did give me some affection now and again. Consuelo certainly got along well with her when they met and they had an understanding.
Sniffy had always been a bit ill. I took her to the vet again and again but they never knew why she had this persistent sniff and blocked up nose. It all but disappeared after Consuelo started giving her bottled water though, strangely enough. Then she got cystitis but the vet's treatment didn't work. I should have taken her back to see him sooner. She was losing weight.
When we did go, the vet didn't know what was wrong, she took three trips to the surgery on Dalston Lane and had x-rays and blood tests. So we took her to the surgery off Mare Street and it turned out that she had cancer, then she didn't, then she did again after Consuelo took her to North London on the tube for an ultrasound scan. Consuelo was very dedicated to Sniffy.
The vet there was a charming man called Brian. I was telling Sniffy's story to Amber in the pub one night and Amber recognised the vet. Her and her boyfriend Andy know him as 'Sex Brian' on account of the fact that he was very sexy and telephoned her at all hours to give her updates on Chanel's health when Chanel was in his care.
Although Consuelo moved out last year in the autumn she spent most of summer in Spain too. I spent weeks alone sitting with Sniffy in the living room, because she would insist on sleeping on the table there, keeping an eye on her so that she could get to her food, to her tray and then back onto the table. She was too weak to manage it herself. In her last days I began to gave her a supplement, iP6, because it has had very positive results reported in animal models of the type of cancer that Sniffy suffered from. The doses that I gave her, mixing the powder in the water, were, on reflection, too high and I do hope that my administering it didn't contribute to her death. iP6 chelates iron and can therefore perhaps cause electrolyte imbalance of the heart (this seems to be my experience being both anaemic and prone to arrhythmia and having taken this supplement at some point although I can't remember why.) I feel sure that this is a possibility and I feel guilty, not only for being careless with the dose but also for not having investigated this and given it to her weeks earlier.
On one occasion Consuelo found her in the morning hanging from a chair. She had tried to jump onto it, not been able to and her claws had left her attached to it through the night. She was too weak to pull herself up or her paws out. How sad.
On the way back from the vet's after the final trip we stopped in London Fields and let her have a roam around. She was ever so skinny and slow so there was no chance of her escaping into the wild but we did have to hide her from an enthusiastic puppy at one point. We also let her explore the pavement beside the school on Mapledene Road. She just lay down and basked in the sunshine.
Yes, Sniffy was a very good cat. A little obsessed with food but a very good cat never the less. She was thoughtful and gentle. She died at home a year ago today, lying on the sofa. I have never seen anyone die and it was a bad experience. She choked, stretched out her neck and, after an age, let out this awful sigh and then keeled over. I couldn't quite believe it.
Hiroe kindly accompanied Consuelo to my parents' house in Huntingdon where Sniffy is now buried in the garden.
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ReplyDeleteSniffy was a very pretty cat and had lovely parents* in Lisa, Consuelo and you. I remember sleeping at yours before the crazy tour, she sneezed on my. Very snotty, but I wasn't offended. Or was I? I'm thinking about our cat Mimi now, who we adopted when she was five, and who died at home, also from cancer, last Christmas. Hope you and Boots are well!
ReplyDelete*I know twee, but sod it.
Sorry to hear about Mimi, I didn't know..
ReplyDelete