Searching for Shadow

This is not one of those regular run of the mill lost and found animal stories. It is about people, about us, all of us who have decided that taking care of pets is a calling. And at the same time accepting the reality that we are not in control of their lives. They are animals that have their own way of being. Their own ways of living lives that are happy and sad, tragic and fulfilling. My sister said to me one day, "we do not own them, they are on loan to us." And as long as I can keep that in my mind I can be reconciled.

This is actually about Cookie. Cookie is her pet name, a name given to her when she was a kitten by my grandchildren. But as I have watched her grow up I have named her Shadow. She sometimes moves like a squirrel, low and low to the ground, her wild tortoise-shell coat with black front feet, half her face and long silky tail with brown blended stripes make her very difficult to see, especially at night. And this is good because of the three 'house cats' I have now, she is the one who takes her time coming home for dinner. Once in a while she stays out all night, or till she can sneak into the house through the back door I have left cracked a bit. Then when I find her in the morning I heave a sigh of relief.

She is the one who becomes a door dasher when there is too much kid commotion from grandchildren or dogs that are often sharing space in the house. If that happens she usually shows up after I walk around the fields with a flashlight. That is thankfully what happened recently after she had been missing 3 or 4 days while I was out of town.

But the most memorable time so far was once when the minute I walked out of the house to look for her I heard a strong "whooo whooo" 'goes there' question filling the night air. This was only the second time in two years I had heard the fabled owl that lived close by. I had not seen it before and I was disturbed as well as excited. I was looking for Shadow, my hunter, to get her back into the house.I had a new high-powered flashlight with me that had such a strong beam I could see all the way to my daughter's house that was situated on the other side of the barn and riding arena.

It was one of the coldest nights of an already cold winter and just the end of November. It was forcast to be below freezing that week. A true arctic front had powered its way into northern Colorado and our front range community. I walked my regular pattern, front trees by the road, back around the barn and toward the new house, in snow deep enough to leave tracks.

But tonight I also followed the voice of the owl. It seemed to get louder as I walked north. Then I saw it in the beam of my flashlight...the pale grey and white form sitting on the highest point of the roof of my daughter's two-story house. His head turned toward me not at all distressed by the spotlight thrown on him.

After my startled moment I found my own voice and informed him there were lots of rabbits and mice around, he didn't need a skinny 7 lb. cat for his dinner. He then lifted his huge wings and flew north, away from the farm toward a line of trees in the distance. I was awed.

Swinging the flashlight quicker now I trudged through the snow toward my house calling 'Shadow...dinner...Shadow...dinner'. I made one more circle of the barn and arena, and all of a sudden there she was, rubbing my legs and purring.

And I had that same old conversation with myself..wondering again how I could keep the delicate balance of allowing her to be a cat, a hunter and still protect her from being the hunted.

Our Dog Mollie

Our Dog Mollie
Edited from the memory page for Home to Heaven.net (Kathleen Cooney D.V.M. and Associates)

Mollie was the ultimate Bassett hound from nose to tail. In her lifetime of 14 years her vigorous tail pounding (or wagging), nose-glued-to-the-ground sniffing, rock-n-roll back scratching, melodic 'opera' howling, house shaking snoring, 'friendly' cat stalking (Oh, just to get a sniff..)and first rate trash-can-dumping, she disarmed (and charmed) everyone with her big brown eyes and sincere expressions of apology for any clean up that had to be undertaken.

She spent her doggie life not with just one family but as a loyal companion for two families. She joined our son's family when he was first married and Mollie came along as an attachment. Her sweet comforting presence during several moves and the addition of three more companions, now 6 yr. old Kyran and 4 yr.old twins Chase and Avery was patient and always entertaining.

Mollie lived with me and John off and on during this time and then for good about 5 years ago. She was one of several pets we inherited from our kids temporarily for one good reason or another. It always seemed that one of our pack of family animals needed a place to bunk for a while. Mollie always fit in, entertained us and sometimes drove us crazy with her tendencies to find the open gate, garage door or distracted person so she could get out. She always seemed to figure out how to find her way into the neighborhood to visit friends and to follow any and all the tantalizing scents that were abundant.

The last few years she had lots of help in that we were blessed not only with our son's three but three more,6 grandchildren within 5 years. Our daughter added another set of twins, Cory and Tyler plus the youngest, Amber, who arrived 2 years ago. Mollie was always the best ‘baby sitter’ around, letting babies and toddlers sit on her and crawl over her. Since she was a very large dog with very short legs they couldn’t push her around very easily. She always knew her own mind.

The most consistent way of getting her to come home after she slipped out any available door was to yell treat! And she would come running, her short legs propelling her forward and her ears flapping in the breeze, a big grin on her face. She had lots of dog and cat friends including her buddy, Corondo (Siamese cat) that she knew the longest and dog ‘cousins’ Magic, Bailey and Annie as well as a cadre of cats including Dante, Romeo, Calla and Lily, and most recently Taffy and Cookie.

She had an unpretentious personality and made herself at home anywhere she was. But she had her moments. One time when she went on a trip with her my son's family she was caught standing on the dining table gobbling up the salad, a tossed salad!! We heard her howl every day before dinner. She seldom barked but when she did it sounded like it originated out of a cave. It was deep and resonant, enough to discourage any intruder.

In those years we had our black lab/cocker spaniel, Magic. So when Mollie and our daughter’s Vizsla Bailey visited we joked that we were having another ‘3-Dog Night’. Soon Annie, another Vizsla, was added to our daughter’s family. No more ‘3-Dog Nights’.

After my husband, John and I retired we moved to a horse property. Mollie loved it. When she slipped out the gate that anyone could have left slightly unlatched she got to stop traffic on the road in front of the house during rush hour. She needed to check out the road kill and often visited her boyfriend Buddy, a boy Basset who lived across the road. Buddy’s family finally just put Mollie inside the fence with him until we came and got her.

Mollie’s health was pretty stable through most of the time we had her. She did suffer from arthritis and pretty early she developed fluid filled sists that occasionally needed to be checked out and drained or removed. About a year ago one of them became abscessed. We put her on antibiotics and she got better. We learned that she also had developed a heart murmur.

Then she had another episode and we thought we might lose her. We tried another round of antibiotics and put her on pain pills. She bounced back for a while. During this time I tried to clean and doctor the abscess as gently as I could. But it would not heal. I even put a large ‘bandage’ on it (on her rump)pretty much every day. But soon when I got the bandages out she would see me coming and she would tremble and crawl under the nearest table. She also started to hide in a walk in closet or in a bathroom.

She still howled for her food even though she began to leave most of it in her dish. As most of you dog lovers know the time to let a beloved animal go is very hard. But for a while when I was caring for her it seemed she was still happy being a dog. I realize now that her most recent escape into the neighborhood included a visit to Buddy across the road and may well have been a good-bye visit.

My goal for her was that she would just have a good time. Other family members had said their good byes. But I held on, I just wanted her to know we loved her and we wanted her with us for as long as she could manage it.

At this point I called in well known veterinarian Kathleen Cooney who came out to evaluate her. She agreed to do in home euthanasia if and when we wanted her to. I was so grateful for Kathleen’s help during this time. Soon Mollie did let me know that she was ready. Kathleen's compassionate help meant everything to us. Mollie went peacefully while lying in front of our fireplace. I read a good bye note that her first ‘mom’ had written and John and I cried as we listened to 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow'. Her first family had made the decision to donate her to C.S.U. They felt it was a fitting way for Mollie to give so that other dogs could live healthier lives.

When our young grand kids have asked, “Where’s Mollie,” we have told them that she had been very sick and had died but that she was in heaven, a place that we couldn’t see but a place where she could run like she used to, where she could play with her cat and dog friends and where she would wait for her humans, a place filled with love. And that was enough.

But she had wiggled her way deeply into my heart as I accompanied her on her way to the Rainbow Bridge.

Thank you, Kathleen, for giving me the chance to share just a little about this very ordinary but very special and beloved member of our families.

October 13, 2009 Pam (Grammie Pammie), Anjie and Jamie, Kyran, Chase and Avery Wolf; Jennifer and Miles, Cory, Tyler and Amber Thorland; Pam and John Wolf; Buddy, Bailey, Annie, Denali, Lily, Cookie and Taffy
P.S. After she died John left the gate to our back yard open in her honor.

Jake's Story

You will know immediately when you open the door to the Fort Collins Cat Rescue who owns the place. Don't be fooled by the volunteers rushing around making it sparkle (and smell good too… well, pretty good). A majestic grey cat with riveting green eyes will stop you in your tracks. This is Jake. He has taken up a position on the most recently donated monster cat tower and the tallest softest spot in the room. Just know this: he is checking your credentials. You speak to him and THEN and ONLY THEN can you proceed to check in if you are a volunteer (like me) speak to the receptionist about adopting one of HIS charges or keep an appointment with Sarah Swanty, Director (and second in command to a-hem, you know who!)
Jake could be a Russian Blue, a fairly rare breed or maybe a Koret. Korets are known as good luck tokens in their native country of Thailand. This reputation for good luck is a legacy that goes back to 1300 A.D. and has somehow found its way across the centuries to Fort Collins. We like to think Jake is a Koret and has brought good luck to the FCCR. The recent Chat Amour fundraiser earned 38, 593.59. We will need to investigate a little more on this. But for now we just love him.

We don't really know where he came from because he was 6 months old when he was picked up as a stray by the Larimer Humane Society. Maybe he is a registered Koret that got lost while visiting relatives in Fort Collins. Well, maybe not.

What we know is that four families have taken him in to their homes. And we know he was brought back each time. It was clear, Jake wanted to be the center of attention. He had higher aspirations than to be a house cat. He wanted to be in command of a bigger enterprise, a place that brought in and found homes for every cat that came through its doorway.

But that is getting ahead of my story.

His first family included a young girl 3 years old or so and a couple of dogs at least. He seemed to fit in well at first and had free run of the house. Then one day all of a sudden he didn't get along with the middle sized dog. We are not sure what happened but he won't talk about it. After that he began spraying walls and missing his cat box. So, as I mentioned, he's not talkin'. The last straw was when he became a door dasher. So reluctantly his family said good by to him and returned him to the Humane Society shelter. He had been with his first family about 3 months.

So cage life again for this fellow who really knew how to burn bridges. But still he radiated charm and within a week was re-adopted. But as you know sometimes charm can't override bad habits. He was surrendered 2 months later.

By now he didn't know it but he had used up his options. He was facing euthenasia after he failed his evaluation process. Humane isn't in the Humane Society's name for nothing. Pity was taken on this handsome youngster and they called the FCCR to see if there was a chance we could work with him to help him become adoptable and to see if maybe some behavior modification would help.

A few things were tried and seemed to help, like longer play times, a bigger litter box, different kinds of litter; then longer and longer play-times till he got what he wanted! YES FREE RUN of this busy happy place for cats. And he was better about his litter-box. Although I have to admit he did still miss the box once in a while...but at least he was trying.

By now so many people had seen him there was a waiting list to adopt him. So away he went. But a month later he came back. Same problem. The second in line to adopt him were sure they could work with him. But the evaluations, work, lessons still didn't stick.

What to do now. High level conference. What was he trying to get across? Everyone put their heads together and realized he wanted to stay with his buddies and buddetts. And his fan club was growing. Deep inside this complicated feline angel was the desire to comfort, to entertain, and to be in charge. He loved people and what was in his heart was to soothe anxiety, bring back memories, and provide a purrrfect companion for those seeking comfort.

He wanted to become a therapy cat. He could visit and purr and pose to his heart's content and could spend lots of lazy hours a week being a very special lap cat. And so now he is (or is on the road to being) in training to do just that. This guy had used up 4 of his chances and we don't know how many of his 9 lives. But one thing does stick. The FCCR never gives up. It could be a forever home or it could be a forever job. In Jake's case he knew all along. We just had to figure it out.

Stay tuned for Jake's escapades as he learns the ropes and starts a new job.

Cat Celebrities!

HI!

My name is Jake! I am adorable!

I'm an entertainer and a lover!

>^..^<

I am resident greeter at the

Fort Collins Cat Rescue I will be the first

to check you out. Or in...Whatever...

I'm looking for the softest lap!

Come and visit me and

choose the perfect companion

to take home.

Follow the Bouncing Ball

Of the three cats I brought to my barn that early fall day, Polka Dot was the one you would notice. First of all even then she had such a lot of fur that I couldn't help thinking about Garfield the cat's, comment that he wasn't fat, he was fluffy. Well Polka Dot really isn't fat, she is very fluffy. But the second thing you will notice is that her markings are about as unusual as you have ever seen on what is called a Tuxedo cat, black and white, mostly black with a white tummy, sometimes feet and tip of tail but the chest and neck are what distinguishs them. On this white area Tuxedo's have lots of interesting spots. But Polka dot has 3 dots. One on either side of her nose and one on the tip of her nose. Polka Dot has well... polka dots.

She had a few more adventures than Lollipop, the shyist or Moonbeam who had one eye and was bold but still careful. One day Polka Dot found her way to the rafters in the storage room. It was just getting dark when I noticed she was nowhere to be found in the room. And at about the instant I spotted her high above me. But the worst thing is that I saw her back end. She had found a space large enough to wiggle out that opened into the barn.

This was after these cats that were discovered in a cat hoarder's house during a T/N/R event had been with me barely a week. I was afraid that if she got out and ran she would not have been able to find her way back. I yelled for my husband who was feeding the horses at the time to grab a ladder and get up there to prevent her from getting through. Luckily he got there in time and used another piece of wood to push her back in.

But that was not the end. I needed to get her down. The only possible way I could do that was to grab something to catch her with and push her off the ledge but I had to stand on a rickity table. Nearby on the wall was a fishnet that my son-in-law had hung there when he had moved his fishing stuff into storage. It was purrrfect! but it was like chasing a butterfly. Finally I wedged the frame against the wall with her within the netting. Then, plop she slide down into it while I held the handle with one hand and tried to grab the other side. to catch it. When she felt herself falling she became a whirling dirvish with tail and fur and claws everywhere. I dropped the net and when it landed on the table she sprang out safe at last. She took it all in stride.

Another time I arrived with their food one morning and she was nowhere to be found. I thought we had plugged all the rest of the holes. But then I noticed that the upside down patio umbrella that was propped into the corner was moving. When I tilted it over to check it out I saw a large furry ball wedged down between the ribs, stuck tight. All I could see were three white dots in the darkness. There was no way I was going to stick my hand down into it so I carefully picked up the whole thing and turned it right side up. Sure enough, she came sliding out and as soon as her little feet hit the ground off she flew under the old stuffed chair sitting in the corner.

After these two episodes she settled down. As time went by little Polka Dot became big sister to Moonbeam and she also became the friendliest reformed feral/hoarded barn cat I have ever seen.

After the first big snowfall of the year I didn't see her in the barn. Moonbeam and I were frantically looking for her. I got my flashlight and walked my regular path when Iwas looking for one or another of my cats when I heard a tiny tiny meow. As I shined the flashlight toward the gate between our neighbors property and ours I saw a little head poking up above the snow drift. She could see me but she wouldn't follow. I knew I would not be able to pick her up yet so I walked through the snow, leaving footprints. As soon as I reached her and she saw me she tentatively put her paw out but she would not venture out into the snow. However when she noticed that the snow was pushed down by my feet she jumped out into the path I had made. She jumped along following me like the proverbial bouncing ball all the way to the barn where her dinner was waiting for her.

Now, when I drive home and turn into the driveway I can see two white tummies in front of the dark doorway of the barn. They watch for me to come home.

On 'Homer's Odyssey'

It was way last November that I walked into the Barns and Noble bookstore and saw the display of new books on the first kiosk. Ten or fifteen copies of two new books were being prominantly displayed. One was a dog story, it was like the book Marley and Me:.....The Worlds Worst Dog, which I loved, by the way. The other book captured my attention immediately. It had the picture of a cat on the front cover, a very strange looking cat. The title was intriguing too, "Homer's Odyssy". I wondered about what Homer had to do with a cat story. And then the subtitle, "A Fearless Feline Tale Or How I learned About Love and Life with a Blind Wonder Cat" just made my hand reach for a copy. I had to take a look at it. The Author was Gwen Cooper, someone I had not heard of. "Hummm", I thought, "An unknown author has really made it big with a book about, of all things, a cat". But even more amazing, I discovered this was a blind cat.


As an aspiring writer who has a lifetime of animal stories inside my head it was encouraging to see that the trend of animal stories was continuing. Maybe I had a chance . But as I soon learned after picking it up and looking at the back cover and then inside the front to see who the author (or agent) had chosen to write the endorsements that this book likely was not only the story of a cat, it was clear that it was about the willingness of the author to share her trials, failures and fears reflected in the mirror of a cat that had no eyes.


Among the authors I was most familiar with named on the back cover were Temple Grandin, an extraordinarily gifted spokesperson for animals, Rita Mae Brown whose cat was detective Sneaky Pie Brown in stories that had delighted me often and most recently Susan Richards whose 'Chosen by a Horse' lifted my spirits and reminded me of my abiding reverance for those noble creatures.


So then I opened the book and read the introduction. It described how the blind kitten was rescued and then, standing in the middle of the isle I became totally absorbed, in ADD fashion. I was in hyper focus. I wasn't even aware people were stumbling over me. When I finally moved out of the way and apologized I felt guilty enough to consider buying the book (after all this was not a library) but burdoned by a small budget for gifts this year I decided to put it on my Christmas list instead.


Well, I didn't get it for Christmas but a couple of weeks ago I was telling one of the directors of the Fort Collins Cat Rescue about it. I volunteer as often as I can to help clean the center and socialize the rescued cats. She exclaimed that she had gotten it for Christmas and was reading it at that moment. Imagine that!

I read it straight through in just under a week, which is a record for me. It is the first time in ages I had even finished a book. My thoughts as I first explored its pages at the bookstore were confirmed. It is a tender, insightful, funny and charming story about life's common experiences, challenges, and even transformations that often occur in surprising ways. It is about growing up, leaving home, going back home, making decisions, learning patience and endurance, never giving up, facing your fears and more than anything understanding that there is something inside that you can't see but that propels you outward to take a leap into the unknown, like a blind cat (?), to risk, to live the one life you have been given to the fullest.


Gwen Cooper says it like this (sort of:):"Homer taught me that the love of one person who believes in you...and who you believe in, can inspire you to attempt even the most improbable things. (Even I could write a book and be published:-)(Even a blind cat can confront a burgler and survive alone (with 2 other cat friends) for a week in an apartment one block from the World Trade towers on Sept. 11)There is great joy in great risk and there is a lot of difference between unlikely and impossible and finally, nobody nobody can tell you what your potential is."

This will join my list of absolute favorite books. of all time.

Moonbeam

It seemed at first that it was an unlikely name or even unkind but the cat with one good eye was the one I named "Moonbeam".

She was the smallest of the three I brought to my barn that day at the end of August. Black and white like her sister, but instead of wildly fuzzy she was sleek and shiny. The other memorable thing about her was that as small as she was from the beginning she was built like a linebacker.

As she began to get used to her new location I noticed she was the one who first ventured out from under the table in the packed storage room of the barn. Moonbeam seemed to function just fine with her one good eye.There was no indication that she was in pain or the eye was troubling her. Although it troubled me.

I started asking questions at the Cat Rescue. I would describe it and ask if it they thought it might be infected and could cause infection in her other eye or even migrate to her brain. (Oh my!) They understood my concern and gave educated guesses based on their experience with other feral cats but they did encourage me to do some research. The computer was still a inconsistent ally but after a few attempts I discovered it could be a corneal ulcer. It could be treated but in order to do that I would have needed to be able to catch her. I hadn't been able to even touch her and it would not be till January, 4 months later that I would just be able to pet her.

After the first few days turned into 4 or 5 weeks the one-eyed cat named Moonbeam began to live into her name. She was not so timid as she was careful. She began to play with the toys I dangled in front of her. She was as quick as her sister, jumped and twisted just as high. She displayed a calm confidence and like the moon her light was strong but not insistent. Still she was feral enough to hold back from my gloved fingers till the treats I tempted her with could not be ignored.

But I continued to worry about her eye even though it didn't seem to bother her. By January she had become comfortable enough with people, horses, and dogs traipsing through the barn so she didn't run and hide. I felt she could at least be observed. A vet from the cat rescue graciously offered to stop by to get a glimpse of her. At the same time I had been able to get pictures that showed her eye clearly. The news was good. She probably had had a herpes virus which is common in cats that had lived in unhealthy conditions and in close quarters with other cats. The eye looked like it had healed.

By now the spunky cat with the chunky little body that flew through the air chasing bird toys and that shuddered with apprehension at the first light touch of a human hand had accepted her home. She found the ecstacy of a rub behind the ears and a caress along her back, the food and warm place to sleep and all the hay in the world to play in with an occasional mouse or two to chase was good. She really didn't know one eye was all she had. It was all she needed. Life was good.