Francis and His Posse

Prior to our bringing Francis home, a lot of people had expressed their concern to us about how we would deal with bringing a new child together with a house full of animals.  We had a plan to introduce them slowly, not allow them in the same room alone together, and hope that he wasn’t allergic to them and that everyone got along!

The result?

We got very, very lucky.

Prior to our trip to the Philippines, we sent a photo album to Francis and included pictures of Lakota and all of the cats.  When we met him and were still in the Philippines, it turned out that he had decided to take a liking to our cat, Boots.  He was playing with our cell phones and pretending to “text Boots.”  Whether the cat liked him or not, he had decided that she was going to be his kitty.  Fortunately for everyone (especially Francis), Boots is a sweetheart of a cat and she is perfectly happy to have Francis love on her. 

Introducing Francis to Lakota was a bit of a different story.  We thought we had it all planned out.  We had one of Lakota’s favorite treats ready for Francis to give her for as soon as we walked in the door from the airport.  We figured this would put Francis on solid ground with her and still give her something to take a while to chew so that we would have enough time to get our bags in the door and get somewhat settled.  What we had hoped wouldn’t happen, of course, did.  Francis realized just how big Lakota really was, freaked out, refused to give her the cookie, and ran screaming into the next room.  I think at that point we realized we were really in for it, and my parents, who had traveled with us, felt horrible about having to go home!

It took a few days, of course.  As planned, one of us was always on top of Francis and Lakota whenever they were near each other.  Lucky for us, Lakota, who has never shown much interest in children before, is a very intelligent dog and realized that someone very, very special had entered “her territory.”  This little boy was someone her people seemed to love very much, and that was all Lakota needed to know to decide that Francis was going to be her boy, and the person she was most responsible for keeping safe.  Doggy kisses?  You bet.  Once Francis let Lakota give him kisses, she was all over it.  “Kissin’!” he would squeal when Lakota would lick him.  Before he told either Gregg or me that he loved us, we heard him tell her, “I love you, ‘Kota.” 

Like many children who are adopted at older ages, we are working through some issues with Francis’ adjustment.  We expected that this would happen.  We did not expect some of the extent that it would go to.  What we also did not expect was that Lakota would become Francis’ therapy dog.  Our feisty girl, who will become a teenager on Thanksgiving Day, knows just when our son is hurting the most, when to go to him and how to calm him down, just by being there and “Kissin’.”  She also knows when it’s best to stay away.  She’s done some things to calm him that I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t witnessed it myself.  

Still, two of our cats haven’t quite warmed up to the newest member of the family yet.  One of these days they’ll get with the program.  Until then, Patches and Shadow prefer to hang out under our bed and hide during the day, then come out and play after Francis is in bed.  I think he’s a little too active for their more reserved lifestyle. 

So what would I say to the woman back in this post who criticized me for waiting to adopt a child until my dog was 12?  I’d say I have an amazing dog and she’s doing just fine as a “big sister.”

But What About Your DOG?

First thing yesterday morning, I put Lakota in the car and took her to the vet’s office for her yearly shots and checkup.  Our vet is a lovely, patient woman who is terrific with Lakota, thank goodness, because from the moment we get out of the car to the moment we get back in Lakota is 60 pounds of “Get Me OUT Of Here!”  I am normally exhausted by the end of her appointment.  We had a good chat yesterday about keeping Lakota calm through the transition of bringing Francis home and all the best ways of introducing boy and dog.  It went well, and one of us (ahem, NOT Lakota) left the exam room happy.

Then we went back out to the waiting area to pay.

There was a woman with a small dog having a conversation with an older couple who had two cats.  They all started telling me what a beautiful Husky I had.  The gentleman asked if I wanted to trade her for two cats.  “No thanks.  I have six of my own,” I said.  The lady with the dog wanted to know how old Lakota is.  She’s 12.  Apparently she must be a groomer, because she kept telling me how great it would be to get her hands on Lakota and groom her.  I told her politely that Lakota did not like to be groomed and fought hard when we groomed her, and since she had been stressed recently, I was not pushing it.  But thank you. 

Then the vet tech came out and gave me the special pheromone collar I needed to keep Lakota calm and soothed through the transition.  She wished me luck with our trip and the adoption.  And wouldn’t you know it?  Miss Groomer couldn’t keep her mouth shut when she heard that one.  “You waited until the dog was 12 years old to adopt a kid?  How could you do that to her?  You made her live with six cats and now a kid at age 12?  Really?”

Are you KIDDING ME?  The nerve this woman touched was unbelievable.  My dog has been my baby for the last 12 years.  Gregg and I have been trying to adopt since she was three.  It would have been a million times easier on her if we brought a child into her world when she was a young dog.  And you don’t think I don’t know that?  I think every day about how this will impact her.  She already knows change is coming and shows signs of stress.  She’s like the baby of the family who feels their position is being usurped by a new baby. 

When Gregg and I brought the cats into the family, they were tiny kittens and we had heard that Huskies were known for killing kittens.  The two of us sat with the dog and the cats day after day, helping them to bond to the point that the dog thinks she’s the cats’ mother and they love her just as much.  Those were our cats.  Now we’re talking about our son and his safety, and we will go to any length to keep them all safe and happy.

And one more thing while I’m ranting.  The next person who considers saying to me, “Gee, you better hope Francis isn’t allergic to cats or dogs” better reconsider.  I’ve heard it one too many times.  Yes, we think about it.  Yes, we think about it often, and we know what the consequences are and what our priorities are.  We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but thanks anyway.

 Lakota and Boots are waiting for you, Francis!

Remembering Oreo

Gregg and I have been told by numerous people, and frequently, that we are borderline insane for having seven cats.  We have always smiled and laughed, because no one could ever really understand that no, we are not cat collectors.  These cats came to us to be taken care of in two litters as newborns, and each one of them has their own personality.  To decide to eliminate one or the other would be an impossible choice – for us, like choosing which of our children to no longer have in our home.

Last night, in a terrible blow that fate handed our human and furry family, we had to find out just how horrible it really was to lose one of our kitties.  

September 1, 2004, Gregg was mowing the lawn and found a litter of four, three-week-old kittens under one of our bushes.  Their mother had been hit by a car.  To that day, we had never been “cat people.”  We had Lakota, and we were good.  We are, on the other hand, animal lovers.  We took the babies in and ended up falling in love.  We kept two of them, Boots and Midnight, and found homes for Mittens and Twilight with friends.    In April 2006, the family that had Mittens needed to relocate and asked if we would take her back.  We did, and it turned out she was a momma-to-be.  She had Patches, Tiger, Oreo, and Shadow about two weeks after we got her back.  We could not find homes for them, and we kept them all.  People thought we were nuts.  

The day Mittens delivered the kittens, Lakota started going nuts and brought me to her.  It was my day off from work, and I was shocked to find her delivering so soon.  She had already had the two girls, but when I looked again, I realized she was in trouble.  Oreo was breech and she couldn’t get him out.  I delivered him myself, and got him to breathe when he came out.  From then on, he was my baby, even though he didn’t want to be.

Oreo was probably the sweetest cat we had.  He never fought with any of the others.  He only wanted to make us happy.  He was a sweet, loving cat.  When I sat at my desk working during the day, he would be 10 feet away on top of the TV, sunning himself in the window and checking in occasionally.

The day after Christmas, Oreo got very sick.  We cuddled with him in bed before church, and when we came home he was in the same spot.  I took him to the emergency vet and they said he was just constipated.  Two days later, he was no better.  This time, our regular vet thought it might have been an ear infection, so she gave him antibiotics.  

Some days, we thought Oreo was getting better.  He was starting to eat pretty well.  He would only take water when we gave it to him through a syringe, so I was doing that every few hours.  Not knowing if what he had was contagious and having to monitor his input and output, we had to isolate him in the room that will be Little R.’s bedroom, the room where he was born.  I sat in there with him and would just cry, because I knew that there was something wrong and I couldn’t fix it for him.  Gregg slept in that room with him every night so he didn’t have to be alone…and now I am so grateful that he did.

When he was sick, Oreo couldn’t stand up all the way, and he had a problem with circling to the right.  His white cells were very low, and so were his platelets.  The vets had no idea what was wrong.  Finally, they suggested we take him for an MRI.  I didn’t know they could do something like this on an animal, and it turns out there are only four places in the country that specialize in it.  Against all odds and by the grace of God, one of the locations was 10 minutes from our house.  

I took Oreo for his MRI yesterday afternoon.  The wonderful vet at the center told me that they expected to have the results back Saturday morning unless I wanted a STAT reading (which we didn’t feel we needed).  He thought by looking through the paperwork that it might be a deep ear infection.

I decided to grocery shop since it was going to be a long procedure, but I blew through the grocery store faster than I ever have.  I really needed to be back there.  As I was walking in the door, they were calling me with news.

The vet had seen the scans coming up, and Oreo had a very large brain tumor – apparently something very unusual for a not-quite-five-year-old cat, but very big.  They felt we needed to get the STAT reading.  We did.  I told Gregg to leave work and get to the center.  After he got there, they told us that it certainly was a brain tumor.  It could have been operated on, but there were many, many complications.  The vet had to tell us that the only time they had ever had a problem waking a pet up from the anesthesia was when there was a large brain tumor involved.  

We discussed it, but realized there was no way for Oreo to have a life without pain and complications.  They were able to put him to sleep without waking him from the anesthesia.  We spent time with him before they did it and were there when he left us.  

I think I knew all along in my gut that this was what was wrong.  I did not know when I woke up yesterday that that would be where our appointment would take us, and it hurt like hell – it still does.  

Gregg and I are blessed by my wonderful, loving parents who stood by us through all of this.  My father, who is certainly not a “cat person” but believes, as we do, that your animals are part of your family, went out into the freezing January air and dug our sweet boy a grave next to the dog we had when I was growing up.  He built him a little coffin and the four of us sent him to be with St. Francis together.  My mother was out moving snow and thawing the ground before we got there.  Even through loss it is very clear how loved we are and how blessed we are, and for that we are grateful.

And above all, today, I am grateful for the time we had with our sweet Oreo “Cookie Cat” and the unconditional love he gave us in the all too brief time he was here. 

 

Oreo 4/24/06-1/21/11