By Sherry Gelbwasser

The one and only decade with my very first cat as an adult flew by really quickly. If anyone had ever told me that Nadia, a black and orange tortoiseshell that was left for dead at an animal shelter in Worcester would wind up in my care, then that sincere soul would have received a quizzical stare in response. Still a helpless and sick little baby herself, Nadia was thrown out of her old home for escaping to the outdoors and returning to her house pregnant. The staff at the animal shelter sought to it that Nadia safely gave birth to her kittens and that they stayed with her until they were old enough to be adopted.

Nadia’s kittens found homes, but nobody wanted a slightly older, just-knocked up slut of a pussycat. In time, she came down with several ailments that would’ve had to be addressed by any adoptive family in addition to having her spayed as an older cat that had already been pregnant. This cat had worms, fleas, and a nasty upper respiratory infection. Her coat was matted. What was once a fluffy tail had diminished to something could have belonged to a drowned rat. This laundry list of needs served two purposes: 1) as Nadia’s diary of her short, difficult life, and 2) as a check-off list of reasons for the personnel at the animal shelter to justify destroying what was left of this pathetic waste of an animal’s life. However, nobody knew that I was coming to change all of that. Not even I knew until it happened.

About two years prior to adopting Nadia, I brought a rather self-sufficient controlling calico cat that was roaming the campus of the State University of New York at Albany to my parents’ house. My mother named the cat, Suny after the university that was once her home. I was granted permission to leave her with my parents until I graduated, found a job and moved into my own place. That agreement didn’t last long because my mother decided that Suny was no longer her foster pet. However, my desire to have a calico cat like Suny did not dim in the three years or so between surrendering Suny to my parents and when I adopted Nadia. It was on the way home from one of my visits with my parents that I made a spontaneous decision to stop at the Humane Society in Worcester just to look at cats.

Well Nadia was not a calico cat, but she had Suny’s colors and she had this aura that made her attractive to me. It took lots of toggling back and forth like turning my ears to hear the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other before I went along with my angel’s advice. However, something told me that if I could only manage to bring her back to good health, then she would become my friend for a very long time. That preferred outcome was for her to have been my buddy for twenty years. The powers that be gave me ten.

During our decade together, we saw each other through life’s many changes. This included three moves, my mother’s cancer challenge, two serious, but unhealthy relationships, a doctorate, and a menagerie of housemates. While Nadia wasn’t active and she really wasn’t very healthy at any point in her life, she was the consummate nurturer.

This animal groomed and slept with every living being that spent time with us. Some of the shaking down periods when her own space diminished were rather challenging for her, but deep down she knew that our family was growing for her well being. After all, she became depressed when we moved with our parakeet buddy, Peewee into a townhouse that gave her more space than our apartment. Peewee died in an accident at our new home which made Nadia even more depressed. Yenta, Peewee’s successor was just like Peewee in term of his appearance. He and Nadia could peacefully coexist only when they had separate rooms with closed doors marking the boundaries.

Two more cats moved in with us as another effort to fill Nadia’s void in the socialization department. My mother referred to them as the orange twins because these orange cats looked like they had been siblings since birth. The initial big question was how were three cats from three different litters going to peacefully coexist in 1500 square feet of space?

Boots, the first orange cat to be adopted, made life rather challenging for Nadia until this new cat discovered that she could claim her own space. Although Boots walked with a limp from an old knee injury, she used to live and play with a German shepherd. As a result, Nadia was an easy target for rough housing. Boots used to sneak up on Nadia and tackle her like they were playing football. All that Nadia could do was yell, hiss, and run from this character’s shenanigans.

At the same time, Boots was not thrilled with the idea that Nadia liked to kiss and snuggle. Nadia muscled her way into Boots’ sleeping space until she was comfortable enough to close her own eyes.

Sometimes, Boots discovered 15 pounds of dead weight on her side when she awoke. Other times, Nadia’s bristled tongue strokes to the forehead or the insides of Boots’ ears triggered catfights.

So the powers that be blessed us with a mediator of the opposite sex. His name was Oliver. Poor, blonde, mischievous, sweet and innocent hobo with streaks of grease black dispersed throughout his body, Oliver had a smudge across the bridge of his nose as his red badge of courage. Dumped in the Village of Shadowbrook Estates condominium complex to fend for himself, he found his way to the animal shelter in Springfield by meeting me. A set of front claws initially prevented him from joining my family.

That rationale for surrendering him lasted two weeks. They needed his space at the shelter to make room for younger orphaned kittens. His name was on the docket to be put to death on the morning after I called to check on this little guy whose name was Sandy.

Having heard that news, I dug deep within myself to make this challenging living situation work in such a way that nobody got hurt. My supervisor met him before my clan did because I had to rescue this animal from "the list" before the shelter opened. The cat perceived his day at Asnuntuck as an opportunity to show off just how friendly and easy going he was to the people who knew me.

The zany unstoppable alter ego was waiting to cross the threshold of my cozy abode. It took five veterinarians at three different animal hospitals to bring him up to date on his routine physical examination, his vaccinations, neutering, and to have him declawed. I was hoping that he could have been neutered and declawed at the same time, which was why I took him to so many vets. Between the animal rights issue because having cats declawed is considered an act of cruelty and the succession that his vaccines need to be administered, my agenda for this cat was accomplished in stages. The professionals who examined him and who gave Oliver his shots insisted that he be neutered as soon as possible because they sensed the devilish side of Oliver’s personality. However, Oliver did not need to be neutered because he had already been through his little right of passage operation much to the surgeon’s embarrassment. He needed a personality alteration instead – that maniac!

At any rate, he gave the dynamics in my place the balance that it needed. He and Nadia were like son and mother. Boots got the boxing partner that she had wanted. Sometimes, all three of them curled up together for a group nap in the same sunny spot of my living room or in my office. Other times, it took two to fight and the third to referee. All three of them ate together, but there were many neck and neck contests as to whether Oliver or Nadia would finish their share first so that they could nudge Boots away from her food.

Like my grandmother did with her family, I loved all three of my children same amount from the oldest to the youngest. Last Thanksgiving (2003), I sent holiday season greeting cards made from copies of a photograph of them posing in the same bed. It wasn’t my idea for the cards to be one of my last memories of this scenario, but apparently it was of the powers that be.

When it was time to take Boots and Nadia for annual physical examinations, I was so nervous about going because both cats; especially Nadia, were very overweight. Well, on February 12^, 2004, the weight issue was one of the areas that impressed the veterinarian. Surprisingly, this person at the animal hospital who I had never met found major concerns with Nadia. For the first time, a vet had discovered a heart murmur and her kidneys were failing. Neither condition was reversible. In addition, she had infections in several areas of her body and she was eleven years old. This cat was equivalent in age to a 77 year-old person.

Where in the hell was I when all of these medical problems were developing? I literally begged to not be perceived as a neglectful pet owner. Although the vet was willing to hold me in high esteem for taking good care of my cats, she was not willing to accept my decision to have my friend put to sleep the next morning. This doctor was bound and determined to stand in my way of executing the most painful, but the most loving decision that I could have made for this animal at that time. Complicating matters, I was charged with keeping the library open with support that was practically nonexistent. Emailing my parents about the day’s and evening’s events that led to my decision was my only outlet for keeping my wits about me. There was little time to feel anything or to act out of emotion.

A wave of relief washed over me during my ride home from work. My mother always encouraged me to do whatever I needed to do to get through the day or the night; especially in difficult times so that was my guidance for the long night. Concurrently, there was this sense of loyalty or responsibility to make the transition into the cats’ next chapter of life. Preparing animals for these events was like preparing children for the same ones, but these guys don’t speak English.

After I fed them, I took the orange twins into my master bedroom and closed the door so that Nadia could not hear us. I explained to the orange twins that Nadia was very sick and that she was going to die the next morning. However, we were going to be okay and that I loved all three of them very much. Both cats left the room and they did their own thing as though nothing had happened. I spent the remainder of my sleepless night talking to Nadia in as quiet and as reassuring a way that I knew how. The clock struck six, which gave me permission to change clothes, to wrestle Nadia in to the cat carrier, and to embark on the last leg of our journey together. Both of us cried in the van during the entire trip.

The MSPCA staff told the veterinarian who was waiting to try to talk me out of doing this to back off. Nadia and I were encouraged to spend our final moments together in a quiet room with dimmed lights and a call button. A technician told the cat that she was going to sleep and that this person’s dead cats were waiting in heaven for her. They were going to be Nadia’s new friends and they would introduce her to other cats in their new world. No more old, sick, and uncomfortable body for Nadia. This relief was just a matter of seconds away, six from the time of the lethal injection, to be exact.

Somehow or other, I felt stable enough to go to work from the animal hospital. However, my patience was limited and it was very difficult for me to talk about the cat. The fact that it was Valentine’s Day weekend and Friday the thirteenth did not do much for my mood either. What a time to lose a member of one’s family! Nadia was a very meaningful and close member of my immediate family.

Like every other day, I got a cup of coffee from the academic affairs office and I sat down at my desk in the Learning Resource Center’s staff workroom. Following my morning routine, I checked my email messages and I checked out some Connecticut news stations’ web sites. WFSB meteorologist, Scot Haney’s, contribution to the technical discussion on the station’s web site touched a sarcastic nerve in me. "Have a great weekend and don’t walk under any ladders!" he wrote.

"Hmmm…. Don’t walk under any ladders today, huh?" I thought. "No, Scot. I have already done two things that were even more karma challenging on this superstition-provoking day. How about crossing the path of a black cat and then having it put to sleep instead?"

Gee, I accepted his cautionary note not to walk under any ladders that day as a great idea to be placed on the back burner. If having Nadia put to sleep hadn’t triggered hours of even more misfortune, then it was well worth it to me to pull my ladder out from my basement only to walk under it just before the stroke of midnight for kicks. However, I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open that late. No sooner had my hand returned the receiver to its cradle after having a long walk down feline memory lane with my parents, did my eyelids fall like wet sandbags.

Boots and Oliver have expressed their grief in different ways. For example, Oliver refused to go to sleep in the same bed that he shared with Nadia for several weeks. Beginning with the day after she died, Oliver walked around in the bed looking for this other cat to snuggle body to body against. Boots spent the next several months recovering from psychosomatic illnesses. She scratched her ears, she sneezed, her stomach became upset, and she licked fur out of herself.

Our family dynamics have changed too. Boots is practically glued to my body every moment that I am home. The orange twins don’t sleep together that much any more. However, there are more games of tag than there used to be. Oftentimes, these guys will be in the same room at the same time.

Unfortunately, Nadia died before I graduated from Johnson and Wales University with my doctorate last May. It meant a great deal to me to have her memory kept alive during both the hooding ceremony and at graduation. As a result, I held a copy of that last photograph of her with the orange twins in my purse that day. In the meantime, I continue to hope that the first of my feline friends is at peace.