My soul cat...Mister Mosely came as a leaf

Mister Moseley died early Sunday morning. We knew he was close Saturday night. I am so grateful he waited until morning as I was able to hold his little cold paws and clean his eyes and give him one last goodbye. I am deeply sad. I waited my entire life for a cat like Mister Mosely and when our eyes met at the shelter I knew. He was supposed to be my ‘grow old along with me” cat but nature was in charge. I am so grateful he could die with us in his home in his little spot...with Bear’s baby llama blanket under him.

 

The photo above was the last picture I took, maybe two days ago.One thing about being able to caretake a dying animal, you learn to look and accept that they are not the same animal they were...and you start to want them to let go, and you start to let go.  Mister Mosely's bile duct issue took over fast, so rapid. The weight fell off him in the last week and a half. And when I looked back at photos of him...it was heartbreaking... but also helped me accept it was time for me to let go and help him know I was ok to let go. I sent so much time with him this last month, but especially in the last week, cleaning him [something he'd stop doing], talking to him, making sure he got some water for comfort...but being so intimate with him was and is part of helping a caretaker see 'it is time now'. I'm grateful he could die at home.

His eyes said it all.

We have lost three of our house companions since last summer-Hughie the pug, Muddy, and now Mosely. I miss them all, and today as I washed all the Mosely blankets it brought back visions of Hughie sleeping in them, and how Bear used the llama blankie as a puppy.

There is a space between actual death and spirit awakedness  for me. In other words, the body is gone, and I feel that as a caretaker I need a small space of not seeing the body anymore before I can witness spirit. But yesterday, as I walked back from the barn, I saw this one lone leaf, it had just come off a tree and was falling so gracefully, and so slowly. It felt like it was Mister Mosely and I will accept it as such.

I buried him by The Lovey Hut which I spent all day in yesterday painting the walls. It is where I will have art and books, and animals for healing visits and art sales. Mister Mosely will grow sunflowers too. It dawned on me that Hughie, Huck/Muddy and now Mister Mosely form a triangle with their burial plots. I don't know what that signifies, but I felt it meant something to me to have noticed it.

Mister Mosely and Nurse Cratchet update

 

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A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Oct 13, 2020 at 4:51am PDT

Mister Mosely has been a very tolerant patient. SInce we brought him home, I have been hand feeding him a mash, along with some high calorie substenance. So he's getting 150-200 calories a day, or that is the goal. And this morning, Martyn saw him drinking and eating, and then I filmed him eating tuna. I was really happy. Plus he just seemed more himself. We are not out of the woods. And of course, he could still die of something soon or...not. We just don't know. He still has yellow skin but my understanding is that can take weeks or longer to go away. For now, I'm just so happy to be able to nurse him. Caretaking a creature, of any kind, like this is a bonding experience. I have always been bonded to him, but it intensifies the bond. There is a lot going on. Winter prep and just alot of little animal issues. Tomorrow, we say goodbye to Honey. Send us a prayer of wings.

Mister Mosely is home...and now we try

Mister Mosely came home late yesterday after three days at the vet. He was jaundice this past Sunday so I knew the slight weight loss was something to get checked out. But the scan showed  he has a dilated biliary duct. Firstly, there was fear it was a mucoseal which would have been the worst news, so we were relived it wasn't. He still had a chance to be treated. He is not in good enough condition to open him up and explore in a more probing way-looking for a stone, abscess, something blocking him to csue the coliostasis. A specialist was another option after the initial scan, meaning he'd be in the hospital for days or weeks, getting test after test, but I saw no sense in that, especially if he is not in good enough shape to undergo exploratory surgery or any surgery.

So we are treating him for things it might be, with antiobiotics and liver enhancing pills. 

And the struggle to get food in him is now the main goal of every day. 250 calories to be exact. Mose has always been a bit picky, but he was a good eater and that is another way we knew something was up-he wasn't getting up in the wee hours with Martyn for some milk for example. I got him to eat before we went to the vet and he ate there the frist two days.

So I went to the store today and bought as much different variety of stinky fish as I could. Smokes salmon, mackerel, Kippers...and he is letting me force feed him. The drugs he is on-the one that lasts one week-can cause a lack of appetite, so I will not give up until weeks are gone. I read about a cat that took five weeks to get back to eating right. 

It's one day at a time.

When I got him in the house, I held him forever and he was probably saying, "Um, Mum, really, put me down now I'm not a baby."

While I know that the end result might not be what we hope for, to be able to try...I'm so grateful I thought he would have to be put down when they told me he might have the mucoseal. That was a horrible 12 hours of waiting.

Mister Mosely was adopted from the shelter, while I was there picking up another elder they wanted me to take. I went into the cat area while they got paper work ready, and Mosely was sitting upright in a chair, looking at me. It was instantaneous. We already had brought home Omar and Oscar, and I didn't consult with Martyn, I just knew he was meant to come home with me. Looking back, I know he would have been adopted quickly, he'd been in the shelter for awhile having treatments and things. I walked in at the right time. 

So I remain optimistic, hopeful, grateful...but also realistic.

But I will do everything I can to get food in him. A feeding tube thing would have required surgery.

If you don't have love with them, there is no pain when they leave. So I will continue to love, and know that through the pain, there is always more love to give, and receive. Mister Mosely is my dream cat. He is like a pug version of a cat for me. He was supposed to be my cat, my long term cat as all the other elders we adopt pass through quickly. He was supposed to get old and cranky with me. But maybe Mosely knew he wasn't going to take that route, and somehow he masterminded it so I would walk into the shelter that day, and find him. I always thought I needed him, but maybe he needed me.

I'm not even sure how to title this

I am sorry to report that Luna was put down. Deep breath on this end. We can’t be 100% sure but we think it was a combination of a tumor or abscess -the lump in the side of her throat) combined with choke. I did some things right when I first noticed it on Thursday, and the next morning she seemed ok but on feeding again she had trouble so I called vet. We were looking at old pics of her and could see a slight lump and think maybe this had been starting a few months back and since she was eating ok I just did not notice. 

Luna and Luci weren’t handled much so I do not examine or touch them like I do Harry and Arlo. So..I learned some new things on any future events. My vet -always kind- said not to beat myself up-even if I had called sooner the idea we could have done surgery on her going into winter on a very old body was not really practical. But if anything happened with the others I would know to act sooner-or she gave me some tests I can do before I did call to help assess. We put her down in the paddock-one has to think about getting her body out-and everyone was there that she is used too-Earnest watched, White Dog assisted my vet , Luci and Arlo who came with Luna watched...Harry in the distance. Damn it

I have decided it is best I also share two pieces of information with you, now. Because I am open here about the bad and the good, withholding the sad things is not healthy for me. I just know it is hard on some followers, but that is not my responsibility to care take that, and it becomes a burden on my soul to hold things. But if you can't handle more sad, best read elsewhere today. Firstly, my beloved Mister Mosely is at the vet today after I discovered this weekend he has yellow skin. There is no scenario that will be presented to me after initial tests that will likely be good, but I am praying we will be able to treat him [and there are some treatments for some scenarios]. Mister Mosely is so special to me. He is the cat equivalent of Hughie the pug. I'll be honest and say...I'm a bit ticked off. But I'm trying to stay in the light. But, really, Mister Mosely? Why? And of course, there is no answer, and it isn't personal but I do not want this. It wasn't suppose to happen. 

Secondly, it has become crystal clear that the right thing to do for old Honey the horse is to euthenize her before winter. She came out of last winter thinner than fall and many vet evaluations over the spring-summer-fall, dentistry work, diet changes, additional supplements, she is not gaining, she is loosing. We've done photos too every month. She is 30+. It is time. She has hardly any muscle and I can see her getting weaker even though she is still a pistol in the herd. But she simply can not digest her food anymore. It would be cruel to make her go through winter. And even with 4 coats on her, she would suffer. I have done my best for her in this last year. But it is time. While I was unsure in summer, I have no doubts this is the right thing. That will happen next week. 

One of the reasons I want to tell this upfront is if you can't handle all the loss here, combined with the volatility of the country right now, I just don't want to bring anyone further down. But I want to share the reality of life here. What I want more than anything is to help Mister Mosely. Entering the house without him was horrible. He and I are very bonded. He started acting a bit off a week ago, so I weighed him and he'd lost a pound. I made a health check up for next week. But then I found the yellow skin and was able to get squeezed in today with my vet [thank you!]. But now when I look back over the past days, the way he was looking at me did feel different. He was telling me he needed help. The car ride over, he was purring and content–that's so like him. I will do whatever I can for him. 

People ask how I can go through loss after loss. Sometimes, I can't. This one....this one might explode me. One thing I've learned about myself, since I am an optimist, is I tend to just keep going in a crisis, buck it up, but often I carry that around without sharing the load. Of course I tell Martyn, but I am the one that makes the final decisions, I am the caretaker and executioner. I am the one who walks around for the next coming days knowing I am going to put an animal down, and even though it is the right decision, it can eat away at you. I often crash the next day and have palpitations or a headache and realize how the holding it in can cause physical illness. I have begun to dance again to relieve stress, and deep breathing too.

I told Mister Mosely as we left, "Don't worry, I'll do the worrying." And I just sort of stopped in my tracks, and thought, man...I need some worry co-pilots I think. So that is why I'm telling you this. You can watch all the free videos of Pickles and Harry and songs and donkeys and joy but you also get a free look into the hard stuff and that goes with it.

The mystery of getting out of bed

When I open my eyes, this is often the view. Oscar likes to sit behind the sheer fabric in the window, Mister Mosely prefers to be in the center bed, and the old tree outside that must have greeted the first or at least second settlers here appears like arms reaching out to me.

It's sun rise. I get up then, I do not get up without a sunrise unless forced. Martyn is up at 5:30. he makes coffee, has breakfast, and goes off to his landscape work.

Rountines. One could say mundane, but I like it that way just about every day–cat in window, sunrise over ocean, tree shadows, smell of coffee...a new day to lump together with all the rest that came before, but knowing it is a brand new day....anything can happen, after all...makes getting out of bed a daily mystery novel.

The tree still stands!

We have always had little Charlie Brown trees, cut down from The Wood, but this year, with the three cats newly in the house, we were thinking it might be a disaster. On top of that, we both came down with really bad colds so have just been trying to survive, if I may be so dramatic [we are both recovering though].

Martyn's cold was subsiding and he was feeling pretty good this weekend, me, not so much. But when I came down from some time in the upstairs studio, he had surprised me with a little tree, and had all the lights up and some decorations. We had always stuck with a bird and fruit theme, and these are pretty much unbreakable. I didn't put up any of the family treasures, some of those ornaments are 100 years old!

Anyway, I'm so glad he did this, it was such a nice surprise to come down stairs and see it lit up, such a sweet little tree. And so far, no Flying Squirrels have taken her down! Mister Moseley came on the table right after we were finished, and I really felt he was saying thank you, he sat and looked at the lights for the longest time...and then went back to bed.

A house built for tiny people full of cats

Our house is small. It is cozy. We are lucky that nobody destroyed the integrity of the house, built in 1760, and when we moved in we basically freshened up wall colors and wood work. I still have to paint the upstairs which was painted at some point for young children and is not my taste. but it was a relief to move in and not hate the interior. In our last farm, we spent years and lots of sweat equity to fix it and take it out of it's 1970's outdated and not-to-our-taste decor, not to mention just fix everything that was outdated. We have things to do here, the kitchen needs help...but basically the house is what it was, and will be for the remaining time we are here. Not only do we not have the money to expand it, it would ruin the house, in our minds. I would love a lager entry with a real mud room, instead the 'mud room' is an uninsulated 8x8 room, stuffed full of recycling, boots...and 'whatever needs to go somewhere until it is gone' room. I was at a friend's beautiful old home, small, but they remodeled it and it has an entry and mud area that I coveted. But then I got over it when I returned to my little oasis.

This house is cozy, as I say. I joke it was built in a time when people were much tinier. I imagine what it was like for The Rhoades with all those kids, and that was before they added on the 'meeting room' in the 1800's, I believe. I imagine the kids all slept in one room.

The good thing about this small house is we have to think about any thing we bring into it. There is no chance for gathering a lot of stuff. I've never been a knick knack person, but this house has very little storage. We have just enough glasses and plates to fit in the tiny kitchen. If I wanted to rob a bank and splurge on new linens, there would be no place to put them.

So that is that. We live simply, always have, and are content.

And just because we have little storage, does not mean I can't stuff the house with animals. Three cats, two dogs and some birds...oh, and the bunny. I think Omar, Oscar and Mister Mosely fit in with the wall color and furniture quite well, don't you? Our fireplace area where we have our tiny dining table, has a beautiful wood floor like the rest of the house-it is covered in dog beds. But somehow, it all works.

I like it.

I was minding my own business...twice

This is a two part 'Minding My Own Business story.

Part One:
A few days ago I was minding my own business, working in my office on paper stuff. An email came in from the shelter, wondering if I might be able to take on a 20 year old female cat and her 15 year old son cat. I said 'yes' without hesitation. And I said I'd come Saturday, today, to pick them up.

Part Two:
I got to the shelter and met the two old cats. The female 20 year old is really slight, and I am not sure how long she will be hanging on. She isn't really sick, except for kidney issues, but 20 is very old, and she is thin in the hindend and seems weak. The male is jet black and a nice healthy build. So I signed all the paperwork, and waited off to the side of the front room.

Once again, I was just minding my own business when I decided to venture into one of the cat adoption rooms, to pass time while I waited.

And there he was.

I swear, I had a visceral reaction. He smooched his face into me and just had this presence. My little head was all full of images of me sneaking him into the house before Martyn saw him, and I immediately began planning my Get-Cat-In-House plot. When I got home, Martyn was out in the field on the tractor-I thought this was a clear sign it was truly my lucky day as star were aligning. I made introductions of the new cat and Omar, Oscar, Muddy and Hughie. I explained to them, it is imperative you act like pros when Martyn comes in for lunch, be cool... Martyn arrived in the house and asked if I had brought home the two old cats.

"Yes," I said quietly.

He knew something was amiss. I turned my eyes toward the window seat where I'd left the newcomer.
Martyn said, "Oh myyyyyy..." in a kitty talking tone. I knew I had him hooked at first sight, just like I was.

"Wow, he is big..." and he started doing kitty coos.

So, all is well.

I have another cat in the house that is so magnificent of a cat, everyone is calm, and I still have a husband. Prepare yourself for lots of cat photos in the coming days. The two new elders arrived at the cat suite without any fanfare, and the twenty year old immediately went to sleep.

The twenty year old mother

The fifteen year old son