One Last Gift

I didn't want a pet, but no one wanted this cat. I took her because as much as my friend tried, it was not a good situation for either party. She'd been horribly mauled by another cat. It had been six weeks since the attack, but her face was still messed up and bleeding. Every time she shook her head, blood balls the size of quarters would fall out of her ears. She left a blood trail everywhere she sat. Her presence in my house caused the neighbour cats to throw themselves against the patio doors. Though she was young, I assumed she was in heat. She was three months old, but her body was the size of a 6-week old. And she was a menace. I understood why she found herself in eight homes after only six weeks once she attacked me. She was like a Tasmanian Devil I couldn't get to stop. Every time she went into this frenzy, I took refuge on the bed because for some reason she couldn't jump. Of all the vets I spoke to only two were willing to treat her, but they warned me it would be thousands of dollars and she likely would not surpass nine months. I was studying medicine at the time and luckily one of my professors agreed to treat her. Her mother had received good nutrition while pregnant and that was the only thing keeping her alive. She was so sepsis. The cat who attacked had ear mites which were passed to her and responsible for her "craziness". Her body had been pierced and organs compromised, but she was too sick for surgery. That was fifteen years ago. Today, she is the most gentle and loveliest cat. Every time I sat on that bed having decided I had to let her go, I'd sing a song sung to me by my mom.....and she'd be instantly calm and sweet. It always gave me enough space and time to rethink my decision. It's no coincidence she came into my life on the one year anniversary of my mother's death.
Winnipeg, Canada