21 Aug Wen
Our sweet silver girl crossed the Rainbow Bridge on Thursday, August 15, leaving us with broken hearts, but memories filled of18 years spent watching an amazing little cat transform from the angriest creature I’ve ever encountered to an absolute sweetheart. My hope is that sharing her story will save another “challenging” cat someday.
When we first adopted this beautiful girl, in November 2006, she wouldn’t let us touch her. Even getting close prompted an attack; she’d latch on to an offending hand or arm with fangs and front claws, while kicking her back legs and raking sharp claws across our skin. By January, we were wondering if we would have to return her to Last Chance Rescue.It was that name that stopped us.Lee and I realized that WE were her last chance. If we couldn’t make this work, no one else would ever give her a home.
So, over the next 16 months, we looked for ways to connect with her — like donning thick gloves and a heavy sweater for protection before lifting her onto a lap pillow and giving her treats — in the hopes that she’d learn to associate touch with something good. Mostly, though, we learned to approach her slowly and back off the moment her body language signaled an impending attack. We would love and accept her on her terms.
Despite her aggression, we began to see signs of a joyful, energetic, incredibly agile cat. After being cooped up in a kennel for months, she loved to race from one end of the condo to the other. She would usually end with a giant leap to the top of the nearest doorframe. And the sound of paper being crumpled into a ball sent her crouching into pounce position, just waiting for the white wingless bird to fly past so she could snatch it from the air.
The turning point in our relationship began in the pre-dawn hours of Mother’s Day 2008. I remember hearing a bird scratching around in the gutter above our bedroom window. She must have heard it too, because when Lee and I woke up on that Sunday morning, she was gone. She apparently lunged at the window screen, falling four stories to the ground below when it gave way. We searched every day, from the ravine behind our condo to the nearby town of Occoquan. There was no sign of her.
A week later, I heard cats fighting in the ravine. When I went outside and called her name, she came through the underbrush. I scooped her up and held tight, calling for Lee to meet me in the car. It was the first time she ever let me hold her.
We took her to a 24-hour animal hospital in Woodbridge. She was covered with fleas and ticks, so they suggested shaving her. In doing so, they discovered a 6” by 3” mat in the undercoat of her fur, fused to her skin. It must have been excruciating when anyone touched her back. No wonder she was so angry!
From that day onward, she began to mellow. It took time, but each year deepened our bond. She eventually became a very different cat — one that freely gave “kitty kisses,” licking instead of biting. And one that insisted on being held and stroked. If I stopped, she would pat my arm or face until I stroked her again. The last few years, I marveled at her complete transformation – from angry attack cat to affectionate sweetheart — and was very grateful for it.
In late 2020, she was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease. It was in an early stage, and she responded well to treatment. Four years later, she still had springs in her paws and was able to easily jump from the floor to my lap or to a tabletop so she could climb onto my shoulder – her favorite place. Just a few weeks ago, the thought crossed my mind that she could easily live to be at least 20, because she was doing so well. Then something changed.
I’ll never know for sure what sparked it, but I suspect the end began as Tropical Storm Debby made its way up the east coast. On Friday, August 9, Debby prompted several tornado warnings in our area – an unusual occurrence. So that we could head to the building’s basement on a moment’s notice, we placed her in a pet carrier where she stayed until the warning expired. That stress may have set off her downward spiral. It was gradual at first, but by Wednesday, she was refusing to eat or even drink water. It was clear that she was in pain.
My cousin Betty recently posted a memory from 2015, when she had to let her beautiful German Shepherd go.Back then she wrote, “I cannot hold onto her any longer – I love her too much.” Her words express exactly how Lee and I felt when we made the heartbreaking decision to release Wen from her pain and take it on ourselves.
As a Christian, I find comfort in something Rev. Billy Graham said when asked if we might be reunited with our pets in Heaven. He said, “God will prepare everything for our perfect happiness in heaven, and if it takes my dog being there, I believe he’ll be there.” Some might argue with his premise, but not me.
Lee and I love you sweet girl. We’ll see you in Heaven.