by Marcia Purse
The first cats and the kittens are in roomy cages, and I stopped at the first cage where a shimmery-coated cat moved back and forth against the wire netting, begging for attention. On a lower level, a long-haired gray-and-white was doing the same. Bt my eye was caught by a demure little creature, inky black, sitting still and very upright, with a pouter-pigeon fluffy breast and huge green-gold eyes. She looked startlingly like a cat I've loved for years: the one in a picture I sold when I moved in 1997 and regretted selling forever after. Just ten days earlier I had opened a birthday present from my brother in California and THERE WAS THAT PICTURE! He had never seen it, but had used my description to search on eBay, found it, and bought it for me.
Now I was seeing the same pair of green-gold eyes in real life.
There was a sign on the cage: "Black female. 8 1/2 years old. Adopted once and returned for litter box issues. These are EASY TO FIX! Give her a chance!" Argh, I thought. I wanted a male cat. My last female cat had died when she was spayed, and Tommy had been with me for 16 years.
We went past the rest of the cages and into the cattery proper - big rooms, one with a great multi-leveled structure of posts and platforms covered with carpet, the other filled with sunlight, both filled with cats. There must have been 200 cats! I got a chair for Mom, and we spent about half an hour there - but I didn't fall for any of them. "Give her a chance!" was an irresistible appeal. Kim had said I needed to feel needed - and this cat really needed somebody. Eventually I went back out to the first cage and gave the little black cat my fingers. She started to purr. She had a huge loud purr. They let me hold her. Her fur was as soft as mink. I was hooked.
I showed her to my brother, who looked all worried. "Mom picked a cat," he said. "Or rather, a cat picked her. It jumped in her lap and pushed its head into her chin and wouldn't leave." But I'd been ready for that possibility. "Okay," I said. "We'll get two cats." Mom's choice looked like a half-grown kitten, dark silver grey, thin almost to emaciation - another female. The shelter worker told us this second cat was, in spite of her small size, estimated to be two years old and had been a stray, brought there just nine days earlier - on my birthday. So we had the cat from my birthday picture and a birthday cat. I believe in such omens.
The small grey cat I eventually named Cricket; the black cat, who has some white on her breast and a faint tracing of white in a chain around her neck, I named Lucy Lockett (after Mr. Whipplestone's cat in the mystery novel Black As He's Painted).
Lucy came home with us that day, ran under a chair and stayed there until the following evening; when she came out, though, it didn't take any time at all for her to become affectionate. She only peed outside the litter box once, the first day I was at work; I don't know what was wrong with the people who adopted her the first time! Cricket had to be spayed and came home two days later - much to Lucy's chagrin. Fortunately, Lucy has no front claws (though I wouldn't have declawed her myself) - so when she takes a swipe at Cricket, no damage is done.
I never noticed the decrease in Celexa. I had something I was focused on through those ten days. The only symptom I noticed was that I began grinding my teeth even more than usual; on the 27th I began wearing my mouth guard at night.
Cricket developed a bad cold and eye infection that required a lot of medication, and wouldn't eat. I gave her pills twice a day, applied ointment to her eyes (clumsily), and made special trips to different stores looking for food that would tempt her. The vet had said to warm the canned food so it would have a stronger scent, but that didn't help. After we noticed she liked to dip a front foot in the water dish and then lick water from her paw rather than lapping, I tried mixing canned food with warm water and putting her foot in it. Gradually she began to eat more.
Lucy sulked and spent a lot of time in the back of an unused closet, but enjoyed being brushed and already wasn't shedding even half as much as she had at first. I was careful to give her as much attention as I could to minimize the jealousy. Mom adored having the cats' company while I was at work! Cricket slept on a pillow near Mom's head, and Lucy on a pillow beside mine. The only other thing on my mind was my back - the swollen knee was not responding to adjustments or ice, and I started wearing a compression brace around it. This did mean that I was spending a great deal of time sitting in my easy chair with my feet up - which both cats enjoyed.
On August 2nd I reported to my psychiatrist that I had completed the tapering off of Celexa and was now taking just 2 mg Ativan, 300 mg Wellbutrin and 4 mg Gabitril. He told me to go ahead and cut the Ativan to 1 mg.
WHAP.
Next: Benzodiazepine Withdrawal
