winona’s 17th birthday, 9.23.08
Written on September 23, 2008
growing up i would’ve said i was a dog person. really. but winona is the cat of my life. amazing to think i got her seventeen years ago, at the beginning of my senior year of high school. she’s lived with me the past twelve years straight, through dog attacks, unfriendly room-mates, two lovely girlfriends (one allergic, one as smitten with ‘nona as she was with me) and several different apartments. once long ago, when i had a darkroom, i could’ve sworn that winona was addicted to fixer. those who know me know that i’m irrationally devoted to her, and i like her more than most people i meet. also, she depends on me for survival, which most people i meet don’t do. that kind of helps with the attachment.
now, at seventeen, winona is hanging on, in a pretty advanced stage of kidney failure. i give her 100 cc’s of saline through an IV every other day. she’s surprisingly patient with this, and i’ve been doing it for over a year. so far the veterinarian seems amazed she’s still alive and kicking. every day she makes me smile, especially on days when nothing else does. happy birthday, kiddo.
the above pic was taken with the glorious iphone 1.0, in mid august. the pictures below were taken today, on her birthday, in an attempt to do something more formal. cats are not terribly into being cooperative for studio pictures. thanks to mark miller for cat wrangling, even though it was an uphill battle. these aren’t quite what i was hoping for but i was afraid we were starting to stress her out, which is bad on the kidneys.
and my thanks, also, to the james watson bobble head doll for standing in.
can i tell the charlie rose story? by which i mean charlie (wasn’t his name charlie?) the dog and rose the cat?
many people do not realize that max grew up in a closed ecosystem - sort of like the biosphere.
i crashed at his place one friday night when we were kids, and was the first one up the next day. i was reading a newspaper in the kitchen when rose, a big siamese cat i think, jumped up on the table and started eating a stick of butter that was sitting out on the table (the gerbers were a butter out family)
lick. lick. lick.
a few minutes later, rose jumped off the table and onto the washing machine, and began to vomit up all the butter. it ran down the side of the washing machine.
gurgle, gurgle, horck.
then charlie, a big white lab or maybe something more exotic, came trotting into the kitchen, his giant tail smashing the cabinets.
thump, thump, thump.
charlie found the butter spill and joyfully consumed every drop. the washing machine was totally clean.
slurp. slurp. slurp.
there was no evidence to let anyone know what had happened and i didn’t tell any one for about ten years. it was like my own personal, urban, annie dillard moment.
Happy Birthday Winona. Love this and love the comments. I feel better as a former-dog-now-cat person and hope our cat Peppy lives 17 years too even if I am doing IV’s someday.
That’s a sinister looking cat! Great cap. Cool.