The tiny, flea-ridden orange ball of fluff was placed in my hands , As I held the kitten fleas jumped on my arms, evidence of someone’s neglect and/or ignorance. We shared an instant connection, her and I. She reached out with one of her polydactyl paws and tapped my arm. I sensed her message was “Are you someone who will pay attention to me now?” I held her up to my face and gently kissed her nose. I promised her that she was in a good place now and I would indeed take care of her. Then I whisked her off to the vet.
She was treated for anemia, dehydration, ear mites and parasites. Everyone there fell in love with her, but they were to late, she had already crawled into my heart.
From the beginning there was something distinctly different about this orange slice of life. She was instantly accepted by the whole crew and from the start she would curl up with them and sleep. She loved to explore and climb. Her favorite trick was to jump onto my clothes hanging in the closet, walk up the blouses and jeans and find a spot on the top of the hangers to fall asleep. She also loved to perch on the top of the bedroom door, and we got into the habit of not ever closing it, for fear of crushing her.
If you look in the dictionary for the definition of gatekeeper, you will see a sentence that defined Prowler’s role here. She was the first to mother the many orphaned kittens that came here. The first to put her paw around a new arrival, and the first to stand up to my Alphas and show them that even though she was tiny, she wasn’t about to take their guff.
Her extra toes allowed her the luxury of being able to get into places other cats couldn’t get to. She would open up the lower kitchen cupboards and climb inside my Tupperware salad bowl and sleep. Because of her midnight wanderings, I ended up naming her Prowler.
Early in the morning she would climb on my lap and bat at my coffee cup as it made it’s way to my mouth. I learned after several hot splashes on my lap, to limit the amount of the hot liquid I put in the cup, but I accepted her unlimited love.
And so she became my constant lap partner, and my bed buddy. Her furriness would snuggle against my chest and she would sleep as I read or watched televison or settled down for the night. Even when I showered, she would watch me from her vantage point, the top of the shower door and sometimes play with the sprayer causing me to get squirted in the face.
In Feb of 07 she came down ill. She was unable to eat, she was vomitting and would gulp repeatedly. She would sit bent over the food bowl but be unable to eat. High fevers plagued her and I would give her supportive fluid to help regulate her body. Even with the extra liquid, she stopped peeing. I rushed her to the vet where she was put on IV’s, they put a catheter inside of her, but she was bone dry. There wasn’t even enough urine to spin for analysis.
And so it went for eight long months with her having good days and then what I would come to call her Crash Days. It was suspected that she had FLUTD that was resistant to drugs, persistent in nature and she was put on pain management and a special diet.
Early this week she crashed again, and this crash was hard. Accustomed to her litter pan accidents, at first I just thought it was another episode of spasms, but as the days passed, her urine turned more bloody- drops left all over the house. She had been to the vet so many times, had so many tests and I had no answers. I had suspicions since I have (had) two other cats victim of pet food contamination, but she got ill long before the recall.
This morning she passed away. She is now prowling with the angels and I know they are as delighted to have her, as I am devastated that she is gone. The cats know she is gone as well. Her buddy Everest has been inconsolable since we laid her to rest in the woods behind our home. His cries for her break my heart and I tried to tell him she is at peace now, and would want him to be glad for her that she no longer feels pain.