Moon's Graden

Mr. Mayhem died yesterday. My fault. I had the privilege of fostering him
for 3 weeks. He was a happy, active, energetic, tuxedo kitty with thick plush
fur, intelligent gold eyes, a pink nose that he loved to rub against mine,
and a lovely rumbling purr. He was found on the ground outside a building -
we think he fell out of a window - and after noone could be found to claim
him, was given to the SPCA for fostering. We think that he was about 4 or
5 months old.

I called him Mayhem because he was into and around and over everything --
he could open any door, and _hated_ being kept alone. After his first taste
of Petromalt, he leaped up to the top of the 5 drawer file cabinet, knocked
down the tube, chomped through it, and proceeded to eat his fill <8-o.
Whenever I came inside, he would rush to the screen door to look outside &
snif the air. He & my youngest quickly became best buddies & raced each
other through the house. The Mr. was because I could see that he would grow
into an elegant and dignified cat, affable and friendly and sympatico. He
loved to cuddle and to be picked up, resting in my arms with his paws on
my shoulders and peering into my face.

Unfortunately, I was very busy at work, "too busy", I thought, to take him to
get his distemper vaccines. Soon, I thought. Truly, I thought he would be
safe so long as he was kept inside. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong,
wrong, wrong,
wrong. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,
stupid. It was so fast -- last Friday night he was chipper and purring like a
motor, the next evening sick and throwing up and not moving. At first we thought
it might be acute gastroenteritus, but after 2 nights at the emergency
hospital,
2 days at my vets, and many tests later, we had just about ruled everything
else out. And his symptoms were the classic symptoms of feline distemper.
The last day that I saw him, it was clear that it was hopeless -- he was
in pain, and just getting worse and worse. He fought everything that my
vets tried
to do for him. I held him and stroked him while my vet gave him the overdose of
barbiturates. I think, I hope, that he knew that I was there and wanted to be
let go.

I don't offer any excuses. There aren't any. I will never forget the suffering
I caused him. He trusted me to take care of him & I failed. I am trying to
remember him as he was when he was well. & if this message helps any other
cats, then maybe a little good could come of it.

Unfortunately, it sometimes takes something like this to remind us of
the incredible responsibility that pet ownership brings. Cats are so
(relatively) easy to care for that we sometimes take for granted their
ability to care for themselves (I admit that one of the first reasons
that I adopted cats was because dogs seemed like a bigger
responsibility). Cats are complex living creatures, however, with a
wide variety of needs beyond food, water, and litterbox cleaning. I
think that the lesson to be learned here is that there are some very
basic precautions that cannot be overlooked, especially when dealing
with something as fragile as a kitten.

Don't judge yourself too harshly. Nothing can be done to change the
past, and holding on to guilt isn't healthy or productive. If you can,
try to renew your determination to be a good pet owner by going out and
adopting another cat, or helping out at a shelter or the like. This
would probably be the best way to heal your sadness.

Jason

Next, I am sure Mr. Mayhem knew that you were there, and that this
was a comfort to him. I have several articles/stories about animals
and Heaven (they do get in, despite some people's refusal to accept
this). If it would be a comfort for you to have them, email your

Finally, Mr. Mayhem could have died when he fell out of the window.
He could have been run over or faced a life of starvation, fear,
disease out in the streets if he was not rescued and fostered by
you. You gave him a lot of love (evident even by your description
of him.) This matters.

There is no guarantee that he would not have gotten sick even if he
had received the vaccine--they are not 100% successful. People can
\only do the best they can do. If you didn't foster him, he might
have spent his last days in a cage in a shelter. He had a good life
with you. You'll see him again.

Kathy Doucette