Zoey was no classic beauty. Her face was thin and her ears enormous. She had very long legs. All calicos have random patterns by definition but many have some symmetry in their markings. Not Zoey; one side of her face was dark and one side light. She had a gray patch under her chin that made her look like she did not wash her neck. An orange circle on one side of her face. Her tail had a double fold, forming the letter Z, hence her name. She was unusual, and oh so cute.
Zoey and her sister Sophie (also a calico with softer features and coloring) came to me from the Dublin SPCA shelter. My unique and beloved Orlando had used up his 9th life in September, 2013. In December during the holiday break it seemed a good time to bring a new friend or two into my life.
I wanted a female. I looked at one calico but she was pointedly ignoring me while a large, very beautiful, long-haired black male cat in the same cage climbed onto my lap. He reminded me of Orlando, who had similarly approached me when he wanted to adopt me. But I was afraid a male would fight with my feral cat Rudy and this cat was, like Orlando, very large. I hope he found a good home elsewhere. I tried another cage and saw two thin-looking calicos. It was Sophie who first made my acquaintance. She was the more adventurous while Zoey was the more affectionate. I packed them in carriers and brought them home, howling the entire trip. The cats were then about a year old.
Sophie, sadly, was too adventurous and not street smart. She got curious about a raccoon. That was the end of Sophie. It was terrible. Zoey could not understand why her sister was gone. They used to play together all day. For weeks she searched and cried, pleading with me to find her sister. My next-door neighbor had metastatic lung cancer. If she felt well she sat on her porch during the day, and while I was at work Zoey visited her. It cheered them both up. Sadly, my neighbor died about a month after Sophie. Right after that I had to leave town for a few days, leaving Zoey locked up inside with a cat sitter coming to care for her. Add in the fact that someone had dumped Sophie and Zoey at the shelter (they had clearly been pets, not ferals) and it’s not surprising that Zoey had abandonment issues. She got upset if I stayed out late; she could tell time and knew when I was supposed to arrive home. She never got past freaking out if I left town.
Still, she settled down to become the terror of the neighborhood. Not with other cats, with critters. Many cats hunt. Zoey was the Diana, the Goddess of the Hunt. Predator in human parlance is a derogatory term but in biology it’s a fact. Cats are predators. Zoey was a particularly active and effective predator. No one was safe. She patrolled my garden, keeping rodents from eating my crops, patrolled neighbors’ gardens, and patrolled the storage unit in the next block. The owner of the storage unit told me that he frequently saw her with her latest kill clamped in her jaws. She kept his property free of rodents and snakes. I suggested he pay her a salary.
Zoey loved to bring her prizes home. She wanted to announce her triumph, but that’s hard when holding something in her jaw. I got to recognize that strangled-sounding cry. Oh no, what is she bringing home now? Once she brought home a moth. I asked her if an insect wasn’t below her skill level? The next day she brought home a rat. Me and my big mouth!
Last December she brought down a squirrel, which I had thought was too big for a cat. Not Zoey! It was too heavy for her to carry so she dragged it inside, and proceeded to consume everything but the head, tail, and one claw. As we ask every Passover, “why is this claw different from all other claws”? I never got an answer. Unfortunately it was just too much for her tummy to handle and I had to take her to the vet with serious upset. They gave her a shot for nausea and some special food that is easier to digest. After a few days she bounced back.
During that exam the vet discovered a heart murmur. A subsequent echocardiogram displayed hypertrophic cardiomyopathy; in lay terms, an enlarged heart that had to work harder to sustain her. They said to monitor her every 6 months and if she began showing symptoms would need medication. As the medication has a lot of side effects, they don’t start it until the cat shows actual symptoms. Her second echocardiogram last June showed she was stable, so her doctor said we could monitor annually. I had to adjust to the fact that Zoey might not have a long life.
This spring the Portland Trail Blazers met the Golden State Warriors in the NBA Playoffs. The Warriors’ Draymond Green became Public Enemy #1 to Blazers fans due to his dirty play and whining to referees. During the playoffs, Zoey brought home a snake and decapitated it. I named the beheaded snake Draymond, and posted to that effect in Blazers chat room, to their merriment.
And oh yes, she fought with Rudy. They eventually got down to just a token hiss when they passed each other.
I got Zoey a collar decorated with skull and crossbones. Hearts and flowers did not seem appropriate.
She may have terrorized the neighborhood but at home Zoey was a very affectionate cat. She loved to sit on my lap, slept tucked against me, followed me around to be petted and picked up. I have periodic severe insomnia and when I was up all night she would come to comfort me.
She loved dairy products. On weekends, and during my time between jobs, we would share afternoon tea. I had tea without milk; she had milk without tea. Once I baked a cream cheese pound cake and set it on a rack on the dining table to cool while I washed the dishes. When I was done, Zoey was sitting on top of the couch looking entirely too pleased with herself. Attracted by the smell of butter and cream cheese, she had chewed up my pretty baked pound cake. I think it was the only time I ever yelled at her. But why would someone leave out tasty food if not for her to sample?
Early in the morning of August 7 (2:41 AM to be precise) Zoey woke me up being sick on the floor. Not hairballs, really sick. I got up and cleaned up; I recognized she had been hunting (rodent parts!) I figured it was just overeating, got back into bed. Zoey lay down next to me and purred, but a minute later got up again, threw up, then ran out the cat door. I did not see her for 2 days. I was afraid someone might have put out rat poison, even though they are not supposed to, and she ate a poisoned rat. On Monday when I got home from work, to my great relief and joy, she was home, but had not eaten although she should have been hungry. I got some of the special food from her vet but she would not eat that. They said if she did not start eating by next day to bring her in. She did not start eating. The doctor gave her a shot for her nausea. Her clinical signs showed nothing unusual. She did not appear to have been poisoned but it was possible she caught a rodent with Giardia or some other bacteria so she got antibiotics. She seemed to perk and for the first time ate a little. That night she tucked into bed with me, purring. I thought she was on the mend.
Wednesday I came home from work and found Zoey lying on the floor, with labored breathing, obviously in terrible pain. She was thirsty and wanted water but when she tried to walk to her water dispenser her legs collapsed. I gave her water from a syringe and took her to the emergency clinic. They examined her and explained the nausea was symptom. The disease was congestive heart failure. Her heart had been over-compensating and then just crashed. It was possible a valve broke or flap tore. Her lungs had filled with fluid. When Orlando had heart problems his chest cavity filled with fluid, which could be easily removed with a syringe. But Zoey had fluids in her lungs, not chest. They injected Lasix to drain her out. They kept her in ICU overnight, in an oxygen tent. I was able to say goodnight to her. She was breathing a bit more easily and had received morphine for her pain but looked unhappy. Animal ICUs are just like human ICUs, brightly lit, noisy, crowded, and busy. All the things cats dislike. They said if she stabilized they would move her to the kennel area which was dimly lit and quiet. They wanted to run more tests today.
I plugged my phone into an outlet by my bed so I would hear it if it rang during the night. The phone rang at 3:40 AM. Phone calls at that hour are never good news. The doctor told me Zoey was no longer responding to oxygen, her lungs had filled up; she was, to put it bluntly, drowning. I got there as soon as I could but Zoey had died 10 minutes earlier. I was not able to be with her at the end.
The veterinary technician told me about a short story he had read. One of the characters is Death. Another character, who died young, asked Death why she’d been given so little. Death told her, “you were given a life, what you do with it is up to you”. Zoey’s life was very sweet but way too short. What she did with it was to be my dearest friend and companion.
I carried her home and waited for daylight so I could bury her. I did not want to put her in the ground. I wanted to keep her with me. But I finally wrapped her in a towel and laid her to rest by the bamboo.
Water the bamboo, Zoey, my sweet adorable cat.
