Kringle the garden cat in August 2018 How does a cat lover negotiate the difficult space after a beloved cat has passed, and no furry creature is home to soften the grief? I believe my dear companion wouldn’t want me to wallow. At the vet, when tears came freely, I laughed through them, recounting how Kringle had enjoyed himself just the night before, completely absorbed in making love to a fleece blanket. My neutered boy never lost the zest for that pastime. I wonder if he fathered some orange kittens before being neutered 18 years ago. When friends asked to see the salacious video I took of him making out with my green robe, I shared it on YouTube. Kringle didn’t mind my filming him as he continued for nearly ten minutes! Eventually I created a how-to guide, Kringle’s Guide to Getting Busy, which shows all the steps to bliss. Our vet said that the activity was self-soothing. It harmed no one and entertained everyone! At about 9 p.m. every evening, Kringle would wait for me in the family room to perform tricks for treats. He didn’t have to meow anymore to get my attention. I'd get a bag of Feline Greenies, chicken flavoured treats that are supposed to be good for cats’ teeth. His yellowed teeth were a bit beyond help, and at 19 years of age, our vet considered it too risky to undergo anaesthesia that would be required to clean and treat them. I understood. The only treatment was an occasional injection of a long-acting antibiotic. Kringle gamely went for the dental treats, crunching them a bit more slowly than before, but the taste going down was worth any discomfort. He earned each treat by performing a trick. I loved when his left leg reached out to pat my index finger to “shake a paw.” He could also sit, climb onto my lap, chase the treat, or follow it into his tunnel or carrier. He became antsy about the carrier after a few too many vet visits in a row, so we abandoned that one. After six or seven treats, I would pet and praise him and he would be ready for his evening feeding. I fed him mostly canned food, which held a lot of moisture, ideal for a cat with weak kidneys who gets dehydrated quickly. It's good for young cats too, to prevent the progress toward the disease. He also enjoyed crunchy food, so I gave him a little to keep it interesting. When Kringle wasn’t eating enough, I tried new varieties of food and even cooked for him. Sometimes I shared fresh salmon, always wild caught and broiled. He enjoyed ground turkey thigh, which I first gave in tiny raw portions, until the vet advised against it after a bout of diarrhea. I’d been trying raw food formulated for cats, but he seemed to react badly to the rabbit. Dr. Chan of BC Animal Hospital said that cooked food digests better for a senior, and has less risk of pathogens for the cat and the human handler. That convinced me! From then on I sautéd ground turkey in butter, freezing portions to serve over time. After returning from a holiday dinner with leftover roast turkey, I discovered how much Kringle loved it. I found that a three-pound turkey roast, made of breast meat wrapped into an oval shape, cooked in about an hour in my convection oven. I rarely cook meat for myself, but chopped two cups of the roasted turkey into a delicious soup. When Kringle's hearing failed, I learned new ways to adapt. Before I went out, I'd find him, wake him up and show him that I was wearing a coat. That way he wouldn't be shocked to find me gone if he woke up hungry. When I returned, I might let him sleep, or wake him gently by blowing on his head, to let him know I was back. I knew from Missy that a deaf cat needs to be gently roused to avoid being startled. We were never able to solve the problem of Kringle’s fur matting. Although a short-haired cat, his arthritis made it too painful to groom himself well. At first, the extra hydration from subcutaneous fluids seemed to improve his fur condition, but eventually this effect subsided and new mats grew. I began to work on some of the mats just before his thrice-weekly fluid procedures, while we waited for the fluid bag to warm in a basin of hot water. I'd tease apart the knotted fur, and occasionally cut out the gnarly ones that were beyond separating. Kringle would grumble and growl softly during these sessions. If the growling grew louder and I persisted, he didn’t recover as quickly, so I kept the sessions short. After three months of fluid injections, I was thrilled that my anxious cat no longer hid afterwards. When I opened the bathroom door where we treated him, he'd jump out of the half-carrier, and turn and stare back at me before running downstairs with a look that said, "How could you?" After I started to blink slowly in return to his stares, they seemed less intense and he recovered more quickly. When Alia left, I'd find him and lie on the floor near him, blinking slowly until he returned the blink and I knew he was completely relaxed. I tried using intuitive communication to help Kringle with his mats, after reading about it in Pea Horsley’s fascinating book, Heart to Heart. But you can’t force the conversation, and you have to be patient and relaxed. The process was delightful though, and I learned to respect my cat in a new way. One of the meditations in Pea’s latest book involves imagining yourself inside the body of your pet. I imagined what it was like to have fur, and the impression I received was “Fur is everything.” I could understand Kringle’s reluctance to have his glorious mantle tampered with, even if I felt it was for his own good. I love my own hair, and remember how it felt when I had a bad haircut. So a mystery remains. What would a cat be without some mystery? And isn't there always more to be learned? Thank you, Kringle. I’ll remember blinking slowly, as he returned my blinks up to twenty times before curling up on the bed near me. His grumpy swats and growls and gentle nips that usually didn’t break skin, when I tried too hard to work out a mat. His entertaining love-making on the linens. My favourite summer spent in the garden last year, where he rested in the shade while I read and composed haiku poetry. These are the poems inspired by Kringle: orange tabby cat sprawled under cedars -- living garden ornament sniffing cedar branch, cat’s tail grows tree-tall -- narrow stream arrows catmint leaf waving bees on one side furry on the other lap, lap, lap -- lap, lap cat lifts head, smiles from his outdoor water dish paws open the gap in the rotted fence boards cat explores new turf cedar droppings fall inside my shirt, my bra itchy search for cat cat’s quickly back smoother paths at home known scents and sights moves with silent grace one foot before the other cat models catwalk - Irene Plett Topics: pet loss, grief, cat behaviour, cat grooming, animal communication, cat poetry Kringle shares how to have fun with everyday, household items.
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