I woke up this Sunday morning at 6 AM with a fluffy and sweet grey-and-white face looming above me.
As as I opened my eyes and started to focus, the Maine Coon chirping began. wake. up. now. please. hungry. i. It was both irresistibly cute and incredibly annoying. Without Pokey, I could actually sleep in once in a while.
Then he drew a breath and I knew what was coming. He began his morning sneezing fit, spewing pink mucous like a machine gun, as I held my hands up in an attempt to keep the flying grossness off my face. Without Pokey, I would not have to launder my pillowcases as often.
My decision-making process has changed in the 9 years since I brought Pokey home from the parking lot, where he was the alpha male of the colony under the bridge. He walked with a limp – which I learned was the result of being hit by a car when he was very young, an injury that went untreated. A limping cat would be considered fair game for predators, though Pokey was already a mid-aged adult, maybe 6 years old, and had cheated his fate so far. But still, I decided to take him home, with the intention of finding a home for him after neutering.
And I did – making the terrible decision of giving him to friends who had never had a cat before. (Ten years into my rescue pursuits, I wonder now what in God’s name I was thinking.) He of course was miserable, refusing to come out of hiding and lashing out when attempts to pet him were made. He soon was back at my house where he would remain.
In the almost ten years since, he has been my joy and my challenge. Because of his cracked pelvis and the arthritis that followed, he developed megacolon, and was hospitalized twice before we got a handle on treating it with meds and food. Because he is also FIV-positive, he also developed a chronic upper respiratory infection which continues to plague him today.
All of that would be one thing, but oh, the personality of the alpha male… I have to feed Skeeter (his bunkmate) in a separate location because he headbutts her out of the way to get to the food, even though it’s the exact same as his. And I can’t have him around other male cats (unless they’re kittens – see here: https://janeganahl.com/blog/2021/01/17/pippins-first-purr/ ) because he would immediately charge them with intent to fight and dominate. Without Pokey, I would not have had to install this gate to keep him away from Big Mike.
His most recent physical challenge was was dental infections so severe that six teeth had to be removed, leaving him with maybe two left. Still, I was elated when the giant expense ($1200) seemed to leave him with less congestion and breathing more easily. That relief lasted only a few weeks, and now he is back to spewing pink snot-rockets. Even without the most recent surgery included, Pokey’s medical bills have surpassed all of my other cats combined.
Without Pokey, I could have gone to Europe twice over. In style.
And yet, what would I do differently? Even before I brought him home from the parking lot, I adored him – his hilarious, Falstaffian presence, his utterly assured way of always getting what he wants, his extreme beauty. I can say that today I would return an FIV+, handicapped cat to the wild, but would I, really?
What I HAVE gotten better about is not feeling like I have to take on every hard luck case myself. Since I brought Pokey home I have a much better and bigger network of helpers. Perhaps I’d have found him a different good home – one that had deeper pockets for his ongoing medical issues?
But if I had not taken him in, I’d have missed his sweet purring, his endless capacity for cuddles, his excellent babysitting skills, his A+ entertainment value.
Without Pokey, I would have missed all this and more. I would have missed the love.