After mentioning my cat being hauled off by a coyote yesterday, I thought I’d share her story.
A friend of mine surprised me for my birthday with a kitten in 1999, when I was single, living with my sister.
First of all, who does that? She did. I didn’t want an animal. They require a lot of work and attention and you have to feed them and all that stuff. So, I made sure that my sister and I co-owned her.
And this cat was not an easy cat. She wouldn’t let anyone, including me, pick her up, she was paranoid, incontinent, ate doors, and as a kitten, was known to run at a person and climb straight up their back, walking on their hunched shoulders until she was grabbed and then she would wriggle her way out of their clutches. Once, she climbed up my sister’s front, latched onto her boobs with her claws and hung from them, leaving my sister standing helplessly, mouth open, loud screams blaring forth.
She was also known to leave gifts for us (poop) in the bathroom sinks. Getting up in the morning and sticking your toothbrush under the faucet, only to find a Vienna sausage sitting in your sink, does not make an already difficult morning any easier.
My sister named the cat Lolita. I thought that sounded like a hooker, so when I took her to the vet, I called her Fuzzy-Kitty because I was embarrassed. No offense if your name is Lolita. It’s a lovely name.
Anyway, fast forward 12 years of being peed on, pheromone therapy, four different litter boxes, two at a time, change in diet, pills, etc. and we were ready to bid Fuzzy-Kitty farewell, however that might happen. And don’t even get me started on her recurring bronchitis that involved expensive shots every six weeks.
By that point, Steve and I were married and had sole custody of FK. I started praying about what to do with her. I prayed off and on for months. We were getting ready to adopt our third child and were in a new home. I couldn’t handle FK anymore.
I shared with my sister that we needed to get rid of her, either find a home for her or put her down. My sister happily agreed to take her. Really? Hallelujah! Answered prayer! She had three dogs and a cat, so what was one more. Plus, she knew FK and loved her.
My sister came to my house to do a yard sale one weekend, planned to stay the night and the next day would take FK to live with her forever.
That evening FK was outside lounging, probably watching rodents enter our house. I called her in, but she wouldn’t budge. I went down two hours later and called her, but she wouldn’t come. I could see her, but didn’t feel like dealing with her scratches when I tried to pick her up. It wouldn’t be the first time she stayed out all night.
The next morning we rose bright and early to start our yard sale. I wondered where FK was. Hours passed and I began to think that something happened. Then I looked over and noticed puffs of fur on the front lawn. They were FK’s. Then I noticed scratches and blood stains on our downspout.
Then I knew that that poor cat had been attacked by a coyote. They’re not uncommon in our area. She had tried to run up the downspout, but without claws she couldn’t do it.
We never saw her again.
It made me sad and I felt bad for leaving a helpless, overweight, indoor cat with no claws out at night to be mauled by a coyote. But part of me felt like that was my answer to prayer. Is that sick? Maybe. But I don’t care. I knew she would have been a spaz at my sister’s house with all the other animals. She would have been miserable. I like to think that she died quickly.
The next day, Steve and I drove to Menards, the Chicago-version of Home Depot, and bought new carpet for our house. We missed FK, but we were overjoyed with the thought of not having cat pee all over house anymore.