I managed to finish my last project with the Guidance of God under the Inspiration of Shell and this was the final result for the soldier, the friend, the man whose life ended before others really wanted to let him go…(sound familiar?)

-In Memory-

R- is for Remarkable, this man; a son, a brother.
O- is for Observing, he was simply like no other.
B- is for Baffled, all the people left to face…
E- is for Eternal, Rob rests now in God’s embrace.
R- is for Remembering, this goof, this simple man.
T- is for Tackling the grief as best you can.

C- is for Cherishing the memories, tuck them in and hold them tight.
H- is for Holding special moments, his energy, his light.
A- is for the Awareness, that every time you pray-
R- is the Realization, Rob’s but a whisper away.
L- is for the Love he showed, he shared it till the end.
E- is for Extraordinary, this Soldier, Dad, Your Friend.
S- is for Sharing all the love he left behind.

C- is for the Circle of Support you now must find.
L- is for Lasting through the sorrow and the pain.
A- is for the Anticipation you will meet with him again.
R- is for the Radiance, Rob glows with Heaven’s Light.
K- is for the Knowledge, he has joined the Angels in flight-

-Mary Anne Miller-

I read the words left behind from people who are faceless to me. None of you had the privilege or honor of knowing this brave little kitty, but she somehow struck a chord in all of us to respond to her spirit. The comments left on these pages could have been typed by me, and I suspect that ALL of you have known a Shell in your lives at one time or another.

Stray cats, they don’t get much of a break. They are usually labeled as “feral” or diseased. They are ignored, abused, tormented and very rarely ever loved. For Shell, her hell existed with a woman who didn’t have the capacity to understand that cats need basic things to stay alive and healthy. Her mind was as diseased as poor Shell’s mouth became over time. They both suffered because of this neglect, the woman got evicted, her cats were taken from her and each cat in the colony (ten total) all suffer from various forms of neglect.

I have two more of her colony mates now in the bedroom. A dilute tortie girl (short-haired) who probably got hit by a car and can’t walk or jump like a normal cat- she still needs a name. I haven’t quite found one to fit her yet. She is so friendly- she will knock you over to get you to rub on her and the wounds from the collision are finally starting to heal. She needs to be loved, craves it actually- it is the energy that sustains her I believe. Understanding that human touch is good and she just can’t get enough.

Samson is a big white fella “older than the hills” according to my vet. Like Shell, he too has lost most of his teeth, but his mouth, thankfully is free of gum disease or stomatitis and the only cancer he has appears on the tips of his ears.

These cats like so many others who hide in the shadows always amaze me when they come to someone who knows that they matter. It may take a few days, weeks or even months to get them to trust you- but when that moment happens, when a Shell of a cat emerges from her cage, tail up and eyes bright to say a proper “How do you do!” Why friends, you just hit the lottery!

They teach us so much if we are willing to listen. To slow down, to decrease the demands on them to “act like other cats” to not scratch furniture, or miss the litter pans, or bite or growl or…or..or..do everything that they instinctually will do to survive. That most feel is “inappropriate behavior.”

When Shell went so many days without pooping, I knew then that she was not meant to be here long. They can go a day or two without pooping and not raise concern, but four days, either she didn’t have the energy to do her business, or she was trying to tell me “Mom, I really do like it here- but there is something not right with me. I need to go home.”

I woke up this morning and had a clowder cluster on my chest; Turner, Trump, Chappy, MK and Muddy all lying around my head neck and chest. Weighted down with these felines, I couldn’t move. I was in a cat strait jacket. I believe they were comforting me, had heard me weeping in the night and were clustered around me to say- “We are here. We are here because of you. We want for nothing, we have a roof over our heads, food on our plates, a kind vet to help us when we are sick. We are here and we thank you for caring and we know, that sometime soon another Shell will arrive here and need you and all you offer.”

They were all looking at me in the mid-morning light. Perhaps trying to understand how people can be so different to them. Some kind, some not so much. They were a comforting blanket on a bleak day in my heart.

So, I read these comments and I weep because I know that there are other Shell’s out there, not yet discovered. Living in filth and fear, trying to survive until one of us finds her and brings her to safety.

I cried myself to sleep last night, something I haven’t done in a very long time. After so many years of rescuing, you develop a- I don’t know a callousness about letting go. I think it is to protect your heart, because if you let every cat walk into your heart- you would never survive the rigors of rescue.

But Shell, she shattered that force-field and walked right into my heart early. Her scrawny body deprived of what every cat should have; food, shelter, comfort, love, vet care. A walking skeleton a cat whose presence shone over the others here under my care. And she softened me and told me her story and asked me to tell others. This was her mission, to let others know who turn a blind eye to the suffering of stray cats what can happen when someone feeds and doesn’t neuter, or feeds and doesn’t care to do anything else- or in Shell’s case, landing with someone who didn’t feed but who protests to this day that she “Cared deeply for Pattycakes!” Pattycakes, how ironic that a name so sweet would be placed on a cat who wasn’t even being given a dose of love in her day.

How many years did she hang on? How much did she suffer in the dark, in the cold, surrounded by cats who were tougher and could win whenever food did appear or could escape that prison they were confined in and at least hunt for some type of protein. But yet she hung on and she burst into my life and turned on my caring button and I never looked back.

I cried myself to sleep last night- and the amazing part of that is I don’t think I was alone.

It says in the Bible that God collects our tears in a bottle. This morning, I believe he presented many bottles to our Ms. Shell and said “Shell, these are for you, and this confirms that in the end, YOUR Life, it DID matter. It mattered a lot!”

It’s a valid question and if you aren’t here to see her on a daily basis, witness her struggles at the litter pan and watch her useless tongue sweep food off her plate, it is a question in need of an answer I suppose, maybe for closure or other deeper reasons.

But she was riddled with cancer and it was set back deep in her throat where it couldn’t be easily seen. She was alligator jaws when you went to open her mouth and so I never tried. I saw it afterward, when she was finally at peace.

How do I go about breaking hundreds of hearts including mine? How do I tell all the people who took Ms Shell into their own souls that all the purrs, all the prayers, all the vibes and the vets who struggled over her care couldn’t save her? How do I explain that this wasn’t going to happen, that Shell was basically to sick to live?

Her blood values stayed high, there was no change for the better in any of her blood work. For the past few days, Shell had been sending me messages that I tried so hard to ignore. Not pooping in the pan, hiding under the bed or tucked back into the clothes. Cats don’t hide for no reason.

So the vet and I talked quite extensively. He has always been caring and a straight shooter when it comes to this situation. This is what he said;
“Mary Anne, if she were your one and only, I would fight like the dickens to keep her alive. I would subject her to more stressful treatments and vet visits knowing all the while that as I was fighting, I was not fighting for her but for you.”

And I knew this, deep in my heart, I knew this was going to be the last time I would see Shell. Because even as I denied it visually, my heart wouldn’t let me deny her the dignity she richly deserved in the end, to be let go while arms that loved her held her, and skilled fingers quickly found the right vein to deliver peace.

Goodbye Sweet Shell, thank you for gracing our lives with your presence. I wish I had met you sooner, before the ravages of the disease conquered your mouth and your ability to live with some quality. I got to you to late, but at least you knew before that last breath, that your life DID matter. You knew warm caresses and embraces. You found food to be plentiful and the Zoom Groom became your best buddy. I’m sorry that all we did wasn’t enough. But you pulled together a world of people who never met you and you created a chain of caring that I have never been privy to before.

That is quite a legacy Shell, for a dilute tortie whose skin used to bleed at the slightest pressure and whose legs resembled chopsticks but whose heart and courage, no one could ever measure.

I will miss you Shell, I will miss you Forever~

For all of you who loved her and prayed for her I say thank you.

And in her honor, in her memory, reach out and help the next stray cat you see on the street who looks as if the world might hate her too. Maybe, just maybe, your help and intervention with that neglected cat will come in time, in enough time to matter~

Goodbye Sweet Shell

I took Shell in this morning to have her blood drawn and then will return later this afternoon with her for her other appointment. The vet did manage to look in her mouth (he was in surgery when we got there) The message relayed back to me is it is still a bit of a mess. The larger rodent ulcer that had adhered to her tongue (the ulcer that was lanced and drained) looks much better and he will probably end up lancing some more tonight. Poor kitty- she is so strong in spirit and the girls said she did really good when they took her blood. Hopefully the results will be back by the time the second visit rolls around.

I have her in the cage right now because I don’t want to have to chase her in a few hours when she has to go back. I imagine for her now, the carrier holds the same fear as when I know I have to go to the dentist. I know, there is pain and great cost ahead, but in the end, there is the pain leaving and things rightening themselves once again. For her, I hope her pain ends soon.

I’ve been asked to tackle a new project this weekend. A young man, in his prime really, deployed to Afghanistan had come home to spend a short time with his family. A few days ago, on a dark street, he crashed his motorcycle and died. I have been asked to write a piece to memorialize his life. These types of jobs are difficult. Grief is hard to bear, no matter if it means a human or an animal has left. Even those grounded in faith and knowing there are better things ahead, doesn’t minimize the sadness that comes when one so young meets his end. Ironic really- being overseas and being safe in chaos then coming home to relative safety and losing your life.