Tinker... Where do I begin? With his spirit, his sass? His grumble meow, or his cooing purr? The crook at the top of his long broken tail, or his blown out oracle eye? There are so many feelings and emotions that his name brings up, and I hope that I have the words to get them out right...
So right, where do I begin? I guess at the beginning.
About two and a half years ago my household lost one of our cats to old age. Our other cat, Rufus, was never a huge fan of his late sibling, but he was still used to anothers cat’s company. I wanted to bring him in a new friend, but knew that financially it would be a stretch. I have a rare genetic disorder that gets in the way of full time work, and vet bills, especially for older cats, tend to add up... but still, Ruffie needed a companion.
I started to look online at some of the various animal rescues around the lower mainland, and stumbled across Katie’s Place. It is a no kill cat rescue, that offers a unique option for those looking to adopt.
It’s called the Permanent Foster Program. This program exists to get the most in need cats into a household asap. It applies to the senior cat’s, in Kate’s Place care, that have non life threatening issues. The hardest part about adopting out older cats is people’s concerns over vet bills, and this is where Katie’s place differs from most shelters... They work with vets who continue to see the cats for the remainder of their lives, and Katie’s Place covers any fees or medication costs.
I started looking through their cats available for adoption gallery, and finding out which ones were available for the PM program. There were at least three that could have been a good fit, so a friend and I headed out on one of their open house days to meet the candidates.
I remember thinking how smart of a set up they had, to house the rescues in a comfortable way. You pass through a safety gate and into a comfortably lit portable, with rooms running down either side of the hall, each with an connected covered patio. Instantly we were greeted by the “hall cats.” We entered the first room, that comfortably housed about 6 rescues. One of the PF cats was sleeping in her bed, and she perked up as I put my arm near her bed. She was a beauty white fluffy girl, who was sweet, but wasn’t a fan of other cats, so not the best fit. As we popped in and out of the rooms, I had my eye out for one named Smigeon, a black fluffy guy who sounded chill on the website. He was in one of the rooms towards the back, on the porch, a volunteer informed me. On the way through to him, my eye was draw to this miserable looking cat, with very obvious sight issues. He was bald and covered in scabs, raising his paw cautiously in front of himself from on top of a cage within a cage. There was something about him... but not wanting to startle him, I let him be, and continued through the door to find Smigeon snoozing utop a cat tree. He instantly rolled over and gave me the sweetest look and started purring at my pets. I was sold, and went to tell the woman in charge that I would like to take him. As I was petting some cats nearby her and another volunteer, I overheard the volunteer tearfully say “I don’t want him to die in here.” I went over and asked what was up, and was told that Smigeon came in with another cat, but this other cat was super sick, and had a stomach tumour, and wasn’t expected to last more than two weeks. I called home and asked my partner if he trusted me, and he said yes. I told him we were getting two cats. Turns out the mostly blind scabby guy was Smigeon’s old house mate. I knew that I could give him so much love in the time he had left, and though it would hurt, resigned myself to this short term guy. I was told to really have a think about it overnight, and was there the moment they opened the next day with carriers ready to bring them home.
It was as if this scabby cat, this Tinker, knew we were coming for him. He was off of his smaller cage, and at the mouth of his big one with his paw outstretched towards me the moment I walked in. My friend helped cage up Smigeon while I got Tinker into his. Smige fell asleep in his cage on the way home, while Tinker, sat half in his cage, half on my lap, staring either at me or out the window. He could see a bit...but not much.
And then the boys were home.
Smigeon pranced around the house like he was the happiest prince. He LOVED water, like would let the tap drip on his head he loved it so much (even tried to jump into the bath with me once.) Rufus was wary of Smigeon, there were a couple hisses, but for the most part didn’t seem to mind him.
Tinker was another story... the poor guy walked into walls and chairs, but could see at least a little bit and had great hearing. Rufus was mesmerized by him. Like he could tell that something was wrong with this guy, so wasn’t aggressive in the least bit. If Tinker hissed, Ruffie would just quietly sniff near him, and give him space.
That first night, all the cats were on the bed. Tinker couldn’t jump up on his own, so I made him a set of makeshift stairs, that he ended up being really good with. He then marched, with all the grumpy sass of an old man, onto my chest, and promptly curled himself around my neck, falling almost instantly and deeply asleep. I knew then and there that this cat had my heart, in a way that I’d never experienced before.
Sure, I’ve had some great cats, amazing cats, sweet silly cats. One of my favourite cats growing up was exceptional, Taz. He was a rescue, a smushed faced himalayan persian, who would jump from the floor up to my stomach then from stomach to shoulder and perch there. He’d give me kisses and hugs, sat on my lap every meal and whenever I was on a couch. He slept at my feet and used to love to sit on my chest and just stare at me, purring. He was the cat that made me fall in love with grumpy old man cats... but he has long since passed and I didn’t think I’d ever get that lucky again.
As the days went by, Tinker thrived. Him and Rufus seemed to be bonding exceptionally fast, and he would devour any food that was put in front of him. He loved fresh water, and would drink loudly while padding the floor, and then would put his paw right into his mug. Oh yes, he drank out of a Batman mug, he wouldn’t drink out of a bowl, but the mug was his jam.
Smigeon, our clean, other than being older, bill of health kitty, on the other hand, was not doing well. No matter what I’d put down for him food wise, he wouldn’t eat. Not even fresh cooked meat or bacon. I started to “baby bird” him and would fill a thick syringe up with moist food, and feed him that way. He ate a tiny bit of dry food one day, and he’d drink tons of water. After a week I brought him and Tinker in for a check up, since Tinker’s skin condition didn’t seem to be getting any better, and Smigeon was getting weaker. Turns out Tinker, and now my house, had ringworm. But poor Smidge, the vet wanted to keep overnight, to see if he’d improve after being on an IV. I was called the next day by the vet, Dr.Gold, who told me that they did some more tests on Smigeon, and it turned out that his entire body was riddled with tumours. He was weak and in pain and the vet said there was nothing they could do, and that we needed to let him go. I rushed out in time to hold him, give him lots of loves and pets, as he crossed the rainbow bridge in my arms. It was hard, and unexpected, but I’m thankful that he at least got to have a final couple of weeks in a loving home.
He and Smigeon did not come from a safe/loving home. Tinker had scarring that showed not only a once broken tail, but also ribs. Some of his teeth were broken, and he wasn’t born blind, but one of his eye was completely blown out. Both cats were surrendered after a raid, completely matted and dehydrated. It boils my blood to think that some people can be so cruel...
Back home, now Rufus had contracted ringworm, and both Tinker and him had to be quarantined in the spare room, while we disinfected the entire house. Tinker was on cold meds, as well as ringworm meds, and it took me a few times to figure out the best way to administer it. He would go full on feral if I tried to pinch his mouth open at all, but the liquid meds seemed to be the easiest, while I held him with my arms and legs. Both boys had to get bathed once every 2 to 3 days for about two months, and we had to completely disinfect their room a couple of times a day.
During this time I would go, in my massive Batman onesie, and just lay down with them. Rufus was never big on pets and cuddles, but everytime Tinker would march straight up my chest, and lay claim to the real estate around my neck. My guess is that my breath on him from there was comforting, like he knew he was safe... The two boys became inseparable in that time, and Ruffie actually started to want tactile love. Rufus had never liked to sleep near any other cats, but the two of then now cuddled almost constantly.
Finally, after getting the final check/ok from the vets, the boys quarantine was over. (Funny side story, during that visit Tiker needed to have bloodwork done... I could hear him yowling down the hall, and when they brought him back in the vet tech was wearing a fully padded suit, and plastic neck and face guard. She basically threw him at me...poor feral guy, but was calm the second he was back in my arms) Tinker was the first out of the room, slowly but surely relishing in his new freedom. Rufus was a little more cautious upon exiting the room, but cautious is kind of his default.
Slowly but surely more of Tinker’s personality started to come out, as he blossomed. We’d now had him for about three months, and he was showing no signs of slowing down...in fact quite the opposite. After watching him one morning accurately swat at and chase a fly, I realized how good his hearing was. The pet store near me sold these crinkle balls, that made the slightest noise while being batted around. As soon as I dropped it for him, a new Tinker was unleashed. He chased and batted around that thing with the energy and accuracy of a kitten. I couldn’t believe it. Neither could the vet. On his next check up they were pleased at his weight gain, and the fact that his fur was starting to grow back in (the exact same shade as Rufus, who knew!?). His tumour wasn’t growing, but it also wasn’t shrinking, so he was put on some pain meds to make him a little more comfortable. He became even more active after that. It’s funny, he would sing, literally sing and coo to his crinkle ball wherever he would catch it and carry it around in his mouth all proud like. If he’d lose it under some furniture, we’d have to go on our hands and knees around the house to see what he lost it under, because he would cry if he couldn’t find it. Finally I bought him a pack of 12 online, so that if he lost it, we could just pop him out another. Well that didn’t work out.... turns out this one crinkle ball in particular was his baby, and no matter what, we couldn’t trick him into a different one.
As winter started to melt into spring, and we started to let Tinker out into the front yard. It’s completely fenced in, and I'd sit with him while he explored, sniffing everything he could, with a lust for life.
When I was home (Which was most of the time) he would be my constant shadow. I sew, as well as make jewelry, and whenever, wherever I had a project on the go, Tinker would be right there beside me. I ended up getting him these vintage stools covered in padded fabric, and he would snooze lazily on them beside me as I worked away, occasionally waking up for some fresh water and head pets. Him and Rufus were still super close, cuddling for hours every day, an absolute first for Ruffie. He adopted a small Batman stuffy of mine, and started cuddling with it daily. The days that I had to go to work, he would give me sass all morning (if I put on makeup that seemed to be the give away that I was going out) and then come trotting to the door, as fast as he could, upon arriving back home. He did this hilarious thing when he was upset with me for going out... he’d crawl onto the bed and start biting the blanket. The first time he did it I thought he was stuck or something, but then I tried to pull the blanket away, and he grumble meowed. He would do it anytime I had to go out of town (The longest I was ever away was three nights) and usually when I’d come home from work. It turned out to be like a game of tug of war for him.
Before I knew it, a whole year had gone by with this little miracle. I was falling more and more in love with him as time went on, all the while painfully aware that every moment with him was a gift. He started to get a bit more grumbly, and eventually started developing mouth ulcers, apparently something common in cats with stomach cancer. During a check up the vet said it might be time to let him go, but he was still super active. Still eating and drinking a ton, still purred when getting love, and still played actively with his crinkle ball. We decided to treat the ulcers as best we could, and upped his CBD dose. The vet said that if the ulcers didn’t shrink with this treatment, that it might be time to let him go. I knew his lust for life, but alo didn’t want him to suffer. I remember getting him home, and telling him that I would fight for his life as long as he did. I know that cats can’t understand our language, but I feel like some of them are really excellent at picking up intent. He would always look me square in the eye, with whatever vision he had left, and seemed to be intently listening. He would talk back often too, it was pretty incredible.
That week he upped his active factor... Played more than usual, wanted to go outside more, cuddled a ton, and was just an overall super happy to be alive cat. I sent the vet videos of him from that week, and she couldn’t believe it. She agreed that this was a cat who still had living to do, so ulcer meds got added to the pain med list, and he kept on going.
I started working from home, and that really pleased Tinker, though he became even more bonded to me than I thought possible. It got to the point where I'd open the bathroom door, and there he’d be, sitting like a patient dog, waiting to crawl back into my lap. He took his meds like a champ, and just like that, we were passing the two year mark of bringing him home.
Things with him were mostly great, but he was starting to slow down little by little.
He started to pee on the floor once in awhile, around the litter box, rather than in it. He prefered to do his business outside, but if someone wasn’t around to take him out, he would let his displeasure be known this way. He started coming and asking for his pain meds at the exact time he was supposed to get them, if not a little earlier. He was getting slower and slower, and I knew that the time was near. I started to build up this steel wall of protection around my heart, because everytime I thought of life without him, I’d feel this overwhelming sense of loss, and couldn’t stop from crying uncontrollably. We took things a day at a time, and things were mostly normal, other than him getting a little slower. A couple of days after my birthday he was playing with his crinkle ball. The next day he didn’t eat much, but still drank a ton and went outside. The next day he didn’t eat anything, but still drank and went outside, albeit slowly. Three days after playing with his crinkle ball he had trouble standing. I looked him in the eyes and could see that my little miracle, the grumpy old man of my life, the cat love of my life, was done. I called the vet, and found out that our favourite Doctor was just getting home from Japan that night. The receptionist booked him in to be put to sleep the next day and I hoped, selfishly, that our she could make it in.
I was with him 24/7 that final week, and spent the last 48 hours on the floor with him. The morning of his appointment i brought him onto my chest, one final time onto the bed. He fell fast asleep, and I got to just feel his warmth and breath for about 4 hours. Finally, but way too soon, it was time. My friend picked me up, and we drove him out, as we had for multiple check ups, him wrapped in a towel on my lap. The wall of protection around my heart was suffering terrible fissures, but I knew that I had to be strong for him. I did my best not to cry or allow my energy to get upset, so as not to upset him. Thankfully Dr.Gold, our favourite vet, was able to make it in. She set aside a room fo us for an hour, dimmed the lights, and had a beautiful hand knit blanket for him. Remembering what he was like that last time he got poked with a needle, I asked them if I could go in the back with him to have the IV put in, and they were kind enough to just do it all right in the room. He didn’t even squawk when they administered it, which just solidified for us how done he was. We were offered more time with him, but I knew he was done, and every moment with him now was a selfish one. He closed his eyes for pets, then looked at me one final time, as the rainbow bridge opened in front of him.
Afterwards I felt strangely numb, but also calm. I did what I had set out to do, two years previous, and was given so much more than I ever could have hoped for. As I’m typing this I’m crying, and have had to take multiple breaks. Knowing that such a special relationship is over, in these forms, has been harder than I’d care to admit. Being prepared to lose him from the get go hasn’t made grieving any easier. Greif is such a funny thing, that comes for you when you’re least expecting it. I’m bursting into tears much more than I’m comfortable with, but I know things will get easier with time. I’ll never stop missing him, but will always be forever grateful for every single bonus day we had together.
Rufus is doing ok now, though he is grieving too. His tail had a droop to it, and was yeowling the nights away... So I did what I did the last time he lost a sibling... He now has a new PF brother, Clue. I may not have much money, or energy, but I saw first hand the difference love and affection can have on a life. Clue is an all black fluffy guy, just like Smigeon was, and has asthma. He’s drooly and sweet, and him and Rufus have already started sleeping on the couch together. There is no way that Tinker could ever be replaced. That’s a hole in my soul that I don’t think will ever fully heal...but knowing that I’m making a difference in another life helps.
There are so many animals in need of loving homes, and not enough homes to house them. If you can, please consider adopting from our local shelter or animal rescue. I get the impulse for wanting a certain breed, but going to a breeder or a pet store is unnecessary. Just as many pure breeds cycle through rescues as not, so if you’re patient you can become the furrever home to the pet of your dreams, for a fraction of the price, and every fee paid to a rescue ensures that they can continue to help more animals.
My time with Tinker taught me to really appreciate life, and see things to be thankful for with crystal like clarity. He’s taught me compassion and patience on a new level, and gave me a lifetime's worth of cat love memories.
Think of all that your next rescue could teach you, and start looking. Nothing would make me happier than if this story can inspire you to open your heart, and home. It can be hard, it can be painful, but I promise you, it’s worth it.
Please consider donating to Katie’s Place if you have the means. Or your own local animal rescue.
http://katiesplaceshelter.com/
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