Chance: A Cat's Tale

WARNING: Unfortunately, this story does not have a happy ending. I write it while still grieving over the death of my beloved Chance.

Chance: A Cat’s Tale

He was so tired. He had found a small patch of warm dirt to curl up on. The last rays of the sun warmed his body. This place smelled like cats and he hoped the people who lived here didn’t care if he slept awhile in their yard. He was filthy and he knew he smelled bad, but he was beyond caring. His paw ached with a gaping wound between his toes, his mouth hurt with sores and he couldn’t clean himself properly. The fur on his chest was matted with dried blood and his eyes, mouth, and nose were caked with grime. He was also so thirsty and hungry but too weak to go in search of something to drink or eat.

He remembered an earlier time, when he had a family who cared for him. Had that been months or years ago? He wasn’t sure. Not too long ago he had found this house but had been too afraid to let himself be seen. They left food outside for the cats here and so he would sneak into their yard late at night and have a bite to eat. Sometimes he would cry in the night and a woman would come out of the house to talk to him, but that too was frightening, and he always ran away. Now he just wished he could walk. The rains had come and no matter what he did, he never felt warm. Until today. The sun had come out and he needed to rest. It was so hard to sleep when he hurt all over.

Someone was calling to him. He lifted his head to see. A man, coaxing him to get up. And so he stood, on wobbly legs, and with all his remaining strength went to the man who wrapped him in a soft fuzzy towel. The man gave him fresh water and soft wet food. The man talked to him, making him feel safe, and cleaned his eyes, his mouth, his nose. And he was given his own bed, a litter box, and a dry place to sleep. Later, a woman came. The same woman who had talked to him when he had cried in the night. She wrapped him up in his towel and held him until he fell asleep.

So much happened after that! The woman took him to a place where they poked and prodded him, looked in his mouth, his eyes, his nose, and his ears. They shaved some of his chest fur and cleaned the painful wound on his paw. They gave him medicine and sent him away with the woman. She took him back to the house and he was put in his own room where it was quiet and he could rest. There were other cats here but he had only seen glimpses of them. He hoped they would like him.

He ate wet food and dry food. He drank fresh clean water. He rested. And day by day he grew stronger. The people named him Chance. This wasn’t the name his first family had given him but it was as good a name as any, so when the people called him by his new name, he answered them with meows. He had a special meow just for them. The people showered him with affection. They hugged him and kissed him. He loved kisses! In fact, if he didn’t get enough kisses from them, he would kiss them instead. He was also introduced to the other cats. Some of them were pretty grumpy and some of them liked him right away. He wandered around the house, slept on chairs and beds and desks. His favorite spot was right next to the woman’s computer. He found the refrigerator and made sure to always be underfoot when the refrigerator doors were opened. Once, he poked his head in the refrigerator and saw a plate of chicken. His favorite! He grabbed a small bit of chicken right off the plate before the woman could stop him. She let him keep it. Once he gained some weight, the people let him go into the backyard and he rolled in the dirt and purred with contentment. He was careful to always be good and use the litter box (his first family had taught him that). He never used his claws on the people or bit them, even when they gave him medicine. He tried not to start fights with the other cats, but sometimes it was funny to see them run away hissing when he jumped out at them.

He was happy here. This was his home and he was loved and well taken care of. He purred all the time.

Two months went by. He thought it seemed longer. He felt like he’d lived here his whole life. There was always so much to see and smell and do. One morning he woke up and didn’t feel so good. He had sores in his mouth again but he was still hungry and he still ate and drank and played. And when he felt sick to his stomach, he went outside to throw up (his first family had taught him that, too). He knew he would feel better soon. The days passed by and maybe he played a little less and purred a little less but he was happy and still ate and drank as much as ever. And then the morning came when he didn’t want to play or eat. And he didn’t want kisses or hugs. In fact, he just wanted to be by himself. The man took him to the place where they poked and prodded him and then they sent him home with medicine. But the medicine didn’t make him feel better so the woman took him back and they poked and prodded him some more. He didn’t care though; he was too tired to care. He couldn’t get comfortable at home to sleep and when he ate food or drank water he threw up. He sat awkwardly on a cat scratching pad that smelled of catnip. He wanted to drink, he was so thirsty, but he didn’t want to be sick. The people picked him up and held him, tried to get him to eat, but everything made him feel sick. He drank a little broth they gave him and wished he could fall asleep.

The next day he heard the woman crying. He wanted to go to her and give her kisses because he knew they always made her smile but he was too weak. She came to him instead and hugged him gently and he knew she cried for him. He let her hold him for awhile as she gave him kisses and whispered to him. He fell asleep but it wasn’t restful. He finally had to get up and leave her lap and he climbed under her desk to rest. He could no longer get up next to her computer and if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get down again. Sometime later, the woman came and whispered to him, “I will see you again my sweet Chance. I love you.” And he loved her, too.

He must have dozed a little. The man was there and he wrapped him up in his towel and held him for a time and talked to him. This man loved him and he loved this man, too. He tried to fall sleep but couldn’t. Finally the man put him in the car and took him to the place where they had poked and prodded him in the past. They didn’t do that this time. They held him and hugged him and placed him on a table. Finally, they gave him a sleep without pain and he was at peace.

Chance was found curled up in the flowerbed of our front yard. He was terribly sick, dehydrated, and emaciated. When I took him to the vet he weighed 6.9 pounds. Being such a tall and long cat, he really needed to gain some weight. The vet ran a series of tests and declared him to be about 3 years old and healthy other than his immediate injuries. After a couple weeks his painful sores healed. We weighed him at home a couple months later and he weighed 10 pounds. The vet and staff were impressed that he had recovered so well. He was such an amazingly relaxed cat and he loved us very much. When Chance wandered off in the house by himself one day and refused to eat, we knew there was something wrong. He had, until that day, been a very good eater. The vet said Chance had ulcers in his mouth and gave us antibiotics to help heal the sores. Two days later, Chance was still not eating and after a series of tests he was diagnosed with CRF, Chronic Renal Failure. His kidneys were shutting down. Chance, was in fact, not 3 years old. He was probably 10-12 years old. And he was not as healthy as the vet had thought; he was probably already experiencing kidney failure when we found him. We were told that even if he underwent IV fluid treatment, blood transfusions and subcutaneous fluids at home, he still would only live another month or two and his quality of life would be very poor. We made the heartbreaking decision to put him to sleep. Chance passed away on Monday, March 7, 2011. He will be greatly missed.