When my husband called from out of town,
I told him I had decided to keep the cat. He was delighted,
and when he came home he tackled the litter box problem.
He moved the litter box to the guest bathroom underneath
the sink cabinet. Because the cabinet was against the
wall, he drilled a hole around the side, installed a night-light
inside and even put an exhaust fan inside the wall of
the cabinet. It solved our problem completely. This incident
made me realize that if we use love as the focus of our
attention whenever we have a problem, the situation will
always benefit from it. We then got our second Abyssinian
named Moses, to be a companion for Toth.
It was when the third kitten, named
Bubble, arrived that my life was changed. A friend of
my son's had bought a kitten in a pet shop. At the last
minute her parents decided she couldn't keep it, so my
son asked me if I wanted it.
The young girl had told him she picked
Bubble because she was the smallest one in the group,
and during feeding time she seemed to have a hard time
competing with the other stronger kittens. We already
had two and I really didn’t think we wanted a third
one. But after this kitten had been passed around many
times and no one seemed to want it, I finally decided
to take it.
I felt like I was doing it a favor by
keeping it, it seemed like an extra cat, and I never did
try to treat it as a special kitten. I fed her regular
cat food, and when friends came over to visit I always
made a point to say, " that's the extra kitten."
About two months later, Bubble became
very quiet, and I saw a white cloud in her eye. I started
to worry and took her to many vets, but her condition
didn't improve. I felt that maybe because I had always
treated her as an extra, she didn't feel loved and just
wanted out of this life because she was so unhappy.
I tried to cure her in many different
ways, taking her to specialists, force-feeding her, and
caring for her every way I could think of, but her condition
kept deteriorating. Eventually she became totally blind
and so weak that she couldn't use her litter box. I kept
baby diapers on my bed where she slept so she didn't have
to jump down.
I used an eyedropper to feed her kitten
milk whenever she would tolerate it, and every time I
managed to get some food down her throat, I made a big
deal of praising her. If she ate even a third of a jar,
I would jump for joy and be so happy. But even though
at times she seemed to improve, she just slowly became
worse as the days went by.
When the dreaded day came, it was Thanksgiving
morning, Bubble started to have spasms, and I could tell
she was in great pain. I began to cry, and frantically
tried to locate a vet who could put her down right away.
After finding one, I cried uncontrollably all the way
to his office.
They told me it probably wouldn't be
a good idea for me to watch the procedure, but I insisted
on holding Bubble while they gave her the shot. I'm so
glad I did, because when they put the needle in her tiny
vein, Bubble died very peacefully in my arms.
I took Bubble home and put her in the
spare bedroom, going to visit her whenever I could. Each
time I couldn't stop the tears that kept falling down
my cheeks. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I’d
wake up and find myself crying again and again.