Two short months ago I wrote about my family’s old ailing cat
Peter and his terrific attitude as he battled cancer. This Labor Day weekend, on his 19th
birthday, we sadly had to say our final goodbyes. Peter, in his unendingly sweet and beautifully
brave way, purred and leaned into my hand as he gradually fell asleep under the
effects of the tranquilizer that I administered in anticipation of his
euthanasia.
Peter came into our lives, along with his two sisters, 19
years ago - the Friday before Labor Day weekend. They had been found on a highway embankment by
a good Samaritan who delivered the day-old orphans to my veterinary hospital
for assistance. I was the only doctor at
the hospital that day that was a “sucker” for orphaned kittens, so I took them
home for tube feeding and fluid therapy over the weekend. One of the two sisters
died the first night due to their extremely dehydrated and weakened condition. They
were newly born and had been outside exposed to the hot sun for an undetermined
amount of time. The two survivors were a
jet-black male kitten (Peter) and a tabby female kitten (Punky Lee). They needed to be tube fed for the first few
days of their lives but once they were stronger, they adapted to a bottle.
Originally, their names were Punky Lee and Frantic Ernie because
the little girl was so small and punky, and the boy would eat so frantically
and voraciously from the bottle that we always laughed at him and called him frantic.
My children were 4 and 8 years old at the time that we took
in the kittens, and they were active participants in their rearing. They held them in hand towels at night after
their sink baths to keep them warm until they dried. If you have never raised orphan kittens, they
get very smelly without their mothers to clean them daily, so sink bathes with baby
shampoo are a must. The kids also
learned to feed them bottles, when they were available to help with the frequent
feedings. As every veterinarian parent
knows, at some point in the process of fostering animals the children will
become emotionally attached to the fosters.
It was particularly true with Punky Lee and Frantic Ernie. As they grew,
I could see my children becoming more and more attached. I knew that we would soon have two more cats
in the family, once they cried enough to Dad.
Peter got his name after Dad was convinced that they needed
to stay. The kids thought that Frantic
Ernie was not a dignified name for a cat, and they wanted something that went
well with Punky Lee – the name that they liked.
They came up with Peter and started calling the pair, Pete and Punky Lee. Pete
(aka. Peter or Petey Wheatie) was such a sweet soul and spent much of his time
with my daughter Bridget. He would follow
her into her bathroom at night to watch her brush her teeth and race her to the
bed to be sure that he got the best spot to sleep with her at night. He always settled into someone’s lap when we were
sitting on the couch playing video games or watching TV. He would purr and beg for treats whenever he was
around anyone. He never lost his zest for food, tipping the scales at 17
pounds, before his veterinarian (yes, me) put him on a diet.
As veterinarians, we strive every day to save and prolong
healthy life as long as we can. We sacrifice our time and money to
foster orphan kittens, raise baby birds and rescue stray dogs for no other reason
than it is the right thing to do. We do
not receive anything in return, except for the joy of watching that life that
you saved unfold and touch others in a beautiful way. Peter was one of those lives. He lived and loved well and brought a
tremendous amount of joy to our family.
This weekend we mourn our lovely little Peter. He
will be forever remembered and greatly missed.
“If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty
and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans.” - James Herriot
Dr. Julie Cappel
