One of Valerie's dear kitties I met when travelling north Valerie Giles shares memories of her dear Panda in this guest post from Prince George, B.C. One of life’s joys is acquiring a pet. Our companion animals become important features of our lives and fill up a home in ways most wouldn’t believe possible. Someone once told me how they do it. “A pet will wrap his paws around your heart and give it a tug.” Each one’s distinct personality inveigles into our routines and eventually pets relate to us by defining the rhythm of the day.
Long ago, I became aware of a cat couple living in the alley behind a friend’s home in Vancouver. The friend was feeding the female and chasing away the male until I pointed out they belonged together. I started bringing cases of food to contribute to their care. Inevitably, we named them Percival and Muffin and predictably, there was soon evidence that Muffin was expecting kittens. She delivered her little family on May 12, 1985 which happened to be Mother’s Day that year. I adopted the entire family and moved them to my home. Percival proved to be a doting father cat and assisted with the care and rearing of all the kittens. It was a huge commitment to take on vet care, including spaying and neutering for the entire seven-member family. That decision proved to be a good one. I later realized a return representing one of the best emotional investments I ever made. My veterinarians informed me that by keeping the family together I had an unusual opportunity to observe how cats relate to their parents. I told myself it was like watching a pride of lions. When we moved to Prince George, we faced the adventure together. I was escorted through the Vancouver airport with seven wide-eyed cats in travel cases stacked up on a huge cart as we rolled through the check-in. Landing in Prince George, we were met by PG Lite Express who gently loaded up the precious cargo and brought everyone to our new house. Being together made the transfer less daunting, and I especially watched how the most sensitive cat, Panda, was doing. It was he who retained the most kitten-type qualities through his life. Every night, he curled up to sleep with his parents. Even as an adult cat, his mother groomed him every day and his father played with him. His willingness to be treated like a kitten got him extra attention, which is probably why he liked it. Panda had his father with him until 11 years old and his mother lived until Panda was 16. Panda’s appearance always sparked interest and people thought he was striking. A Manx, he was born with absolutely no tail—a cat style called a “Rumpie” which is fairly distinctive. His long back legs jacked him up in the back giving him a rabbit-like body. The video-taped record of his kittenhood reveals the ability to “hop” across the lawn like a bunny. A black body with a white face and white underbelly provided the obvious choice of “Panda” for his name. Pink toes, a matching pink nose and beautiful green eyes made for a very handsome feline. He purred, but made a barely audible sound. About a year ago [in 2002], Panda started slowing down. His long back legs began to stiffen and he needed a step to get up onto the couch. No longer able to climb into a litter box, he did his best to make it to towels set up on a rubber sheet in the corner. When incontinence set in, frequently his bedding would be wet in the morning. Daily laundry became a reality of coping with an aging cat—a small accommodation for me to make that helped him keep his dignity. The last week of his life, Panda refused food and only lapped a bit of milk. For the last days, he took only water. I could tell the end was near, and wanted my darling cat to have as much comfort as I could give him. There was no pain, but he was getting weaker. I held him all night and shifted positions as he needed. Sunday morning, I stayed home to hold him. He lifted his sweet head several times to rub against my face, soaking up my tears. Shifting to lie on my lap, he appeared to sleep for a while. There were a few soft cries, and I was aware he was slipping away. Two more breaths, and I felt him go limp, and I knew he was gone. He had a gentle passing. Every day of his life, Panda knew he was loved. He was 18 years, six months old. One thing I know for certain: the death of a beloved pet is one of life’s greatest sorrows. - Valerie M.E. Giles From Valerie M.E. Giles, Remembering … A celebration of Prince George’s Storied Past (2014, CNC Press); first published 23 Nov. 2003 in the Prince George Citizen. Topics: pet loss, grief, senior cats, manx cats.
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