We had known several months ago, as we started to talk about plans for the coming years, that we would have to find a new home for her. Our plans right now involve extending our honeymoon trip on the boat more or less indefinitely; we'll be renting out our house and living aboard, sticking around Puget Sound perhaps, but not ashore. Rosie is no spring chicken and we didn't want to disrupt her by trying to get her to adapt to life aboard, nor did we want to risk her in what can be a risky environment for a cat.
Things became more complicated two months ago, however, when she was diagnosed with feline leukemia. It's a terminal condition, and the vet gave her six to eight months. She had an episode at the time that made it look like it could be a lot less than that, but, always resilient, she bounced back and with medication has been doing quite well more recently. Still, we didn't want to dump her off on anyone new, both for her sake and theirs... it seemed dramatically unfair to take her out of her comfort zone in her last months, and equally so to ask new owners to become attached to and care for a cat with a fast-approaching expiration date. Were circumstances otherwise, we probably would have simply delayed everything (well, not the wedding, but the honeymoon) and stayed with her in our home until the end. Finances and her returning robustness would not allow that sort of unforeseeable delay, however.
Fortunately, my parents offered to take her in. They already know her, and she them, so it's not a dramatic shock to either party. They're located near enough that we will still be able to see her frequently, and should they take off RVing this winter, we can house-sit with her (and the chickens, who frequently have trouble finding good caretakers). There is a vet right up the road from them, and what with the proximity, there is a good chance that if she starts to go south we will be able to be there to take care of her at the end and not have to force the unpleasant task on anyone else.
Stress isn't good for her with the depressed immune system so we were most worried about the car ride up to Port Hadlock. Rosie has never traveled well; when we got her from my friend Steve, who lived in Spokane at the time, she meowed through the entirety of the four hour trip back from there, and made at least one spirited escape attempt from the confines of her cardboard box. We have a cat carrier now, but the anxiety level was approximately the same.
True to form, when we loaded her up in the carrier, she started meowing like the world was about to end. Mandy drove while I was tasked with calming the cat, but the best option while she is in the box is simply put towels over it and hope she forgets we are there. This did not work. Still, we had a plan, which worked out quite successfully in the end.
We kept her in the box until we were through the ferry tollbooth downtown and could roll the windows up. Then, while we were parked and waiting in the lot, we let her out of the carrier. She snooped around the car, frightened and hiding at first, then simply curious, then intensely curious with all the other cars pulling in and people walking back and forth. It gave her time to get used to the interior of the car without anything particularly scary happening, though. Then, when the ferry arrived, we got to expose her to the noise of the engine and rolling around slowly as we loaded, all while she was loose in the vehicle. It was such a short interval that she didn't have time to get loopy, but enough to see what it was all about.
Then, after a break while the ferry went across the Sound, she was pretty well okay with the car moving. There was a little meowing, a lot of shedding, and some episodes of hiding under the passenger seat, but on the whole she did very well. Other than some mysterious urge to crawl down between Mandy's feet and the pedals, she stayed put with me on the passenger side without much complaint. By the time we actually got to Hadlock, the sun was out, and she crawled up on my lap instead of hunkering down in the footwell, and though she wasn't purring she at least deigned to be petted.
We spent the night up there with her so she would know it was safe. The Graebels had things all set up for her already. Rosie is an indoor/outdoor model, having grown up in a barn, and doesn't stay inside for extended periods very well (although she will use a litterbox in extremis). A traditional wandering-around outdoor cat won't last long that far north on the Peninsula, however, on account of eagles, coyotes, raccoons, etc. So, Linda built a rather sizeable cat run along one side of the house. Completely fenced in, containing plants, resting places, and intriguing features, Rosie can pop out through an open window anytime and either enjoy the wilderness or answer the call of nature in complete safety. I have no doubt she'll still meow at doors for a while, but I think she'll be sated by her run.
The new house is already being taken over. At our place, it was never work of more than thirty seconds to establish her whereabouts when she was inside. Up there, she can disappear sufficiently that four people searching for five minutes have trouble finding her. She will no doubt appreciate that sort of insularity. She found no shortage of quiet places to curl up and sleep after exploring the place thoroughly.
It's very quiet around here now, clumps of cat hair blowing like tumbleweeds through the living room, but in the end, it is better than leaving her here with a stranger or having to move her later, when she is sicker. We feel better thinking of her half-buried in pillows up there or lounging in the sun room like she used to do on the deck here.
1 comment:
Sweet little Rosie is in good hands. Looking forward to seeing her (and everyone else) soon.
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