Friday, February 16, 2024

SPROUT, R.I.P.

We lost one of our cats last night, suddenly and unexpectedly.  Sprout was a black female of inderterminate age, although Christina believed her t be about five years old.  She took seriously ill without warning and Christina and Erin rushed her to the veterinarian where she went downhill quickly.  to the point where she had to be put down.  The cause?  Rapid onset congestive heart failue with a saddle thromboisis.  Until it happened there was no indication of a problem.

Sprout had been abandoned by a family renting the house next door.  They pulled up stakes in the middle of the night, leaving the cat to roam outdoors.  She had evidently been the pet of their little girl, whom we would see carrying a placid animal all over the place.  Sprout had been mistreated, her left sde bulged out unnaturally, as if she had been repeatedly kicked and had internal damage.  Mark found her and took her in.  The original owners never came back to claim her.  Christina and Walt spent several thousand dollars to have the cat treated because you don't leave an animal in pain.  She became healthy but always had the bulge in her side as a reminder of how cruel some people could be.

After a bit of dicussion, she was named Sprout.  (Mark was lobbying for Pumpkin but was outvoted.) Almost immediately, we realized how affectionate this cat was.  She took an instant liking to Walt, who was never a cat person; she would drape herself around his shoulders like a shawl as he walked around the house -- Walt may never become a true cat person, but he did become a Sprout person.  Her favorite spot was on Christina's lap while she was reading in her reclining chair...a good book, a comfy blanket over her legs and feet, and Sprout on her lap were Chrstina's idea of an afternoon well spent.  Sprout was always friendly and affectionate with the rest of us -- and with the rest of the animals -- but she truly bonded with Walt and Christina.  She was a happy, loving, purring fur machine.

Cristina and Walt take their animals seriously.  I don't think they consider it ownership, it's more like a stewardship.  Their animals are a resposibility, not an onus.  Caring for an animal is never a task.  It is their duty to ensure the animals are safe, comfortable, well-fed, healthy, and loved.  The animals, in turn, give back tenfold in so many intangible ways.  It's a good partnership and one that we all respect without question.

The death of an animal hits us all hard  Because animals have a shorter life span than humans, it happens pretty often, but that does alleviate the sense of loss.  If we couldn't face up to animals dying on us, we have nothing but Galapagos turtles -- and those critters couldn't fetch a ball for beans.  But it does hurt -- not anyway near as much as losing a relative or a close friend, certainly, but the pain is still there.  Also there, however, is the great feeling of knowing that you gave a fellow creature some comfort in its life.  In the past we have lost dogs, cats, and goats, as well as snakes and lizards.  Each death has affected us -- some (like the cats and dogs, who are able to express their love and devotion) more then others, (like the snakes who probably don't give a damn about us).  But each animal has earned a place in our hearts and has taught us the value of existence.  Each animal, like each person, is special and unique.

The household is now down to thriteen animals (fifteen, if you count Jack and myself, as Christina sometimes does).  Thirteen is still a lot.  But somehow the house seems much emptier now.

Vale, Sprout.  You will be missed.

3 comments:

  1. What a lovely tribute to Sprout. Bet she knew how you felt.

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  2. We lost a girl cat that Alice called Emmy (after Emmy Noder) and I called Emma (after Ms. Goldman), one rescued from the streets near Alice's first clinic, to apparently a congenital heart problem which finally caught up with her after we kept her for two or so years. She had been an unusually sleepy cat previously, and loved fuzzy blankets and fake fur throwrugs even more than the other three cats we had for most of her time with us, which we took as mostly a result of a life of constant tension beforehand. She, a very small white and black piebald, also had a tendency to scream-mew whenever anyone, very much including the other cats, did anything she disliked or looked at her funny. Dunno if she would've taken to Sprout, as even the most gracious of our other cats, the surviving Ninja, was only on the most provisional friend basis with her, but otherwise her early story and fate sound rather familiar.

    Yes, I hope all the parrots that survive their original keepers don't get too depressed thus. Ninja certainly has survived my parents, who took her from a shelter after their two cats Nemesis and Dakota lasted for 16 and 20 years respectively. Cancer and liver dysfunction took care of the two first cats Alice and I took in, Niki and Domino. It doesn't get easier, no. (I think the reptiles, or at very least the constrictor snakes, do grow fond of their apes as motile warming centers, as well as providers of food.)

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