Cleo the Cat

Today I've decided to tell you the story of our cat Cleo that was the victim of the pet food poisoning a few years ago.

Everyone knows that I am in no way an animal lover. That dates back to losing our beloved boxer, Shadow, when we were kids. Maybe that's the story I should tell. Here goes---all of us kids loved Shadow. She was a good and gentle dog. I took her to Camp Hawk and entered her in the dog show. She came in 3rd for the "obedience" division.  I came home proudly with the ribbon. Dad was excited too. He asked, "how many dogs were entered?" I replied, "3",  he got a kick out of that, but I didn't really get it until I was a little older.

One Sunday, when we had some sort of family gathering---most likely someone's first Communion---Shadow was eating. Her "clipped" tail never stopped wagging. Our little cousin, Jon was trying to hold Shadow's tail when she turned around and snapped at him. He started howling---even though he hadn't been bitten. My Uncle Jules got pretty worked up. I guess it was the next day or so that dad told us we had to get rid of Shadow. He said that with so many kids in our house (there were 6 of us then) he could not take the chance that Shadow might bite one of us.

He thought that he had the perfect solution. We had a grandmotherly type babysitter (Mrs. Turco) who loved Shadow. She took her. The problem was that she lived in a subdivision. We lived in a neighborhood with an empty lot across the street. This is where Shadow was trained to "take care of business." As a result she would not "go" in the Turco's yard. It wasn't long that their neighbors started to complain. They tried tying her up behind the garage, but she just wouldn't "go." After several days, they took her down to the river where she swam, "let it loose" and ran around. When it was time to leave, they called to her, but she took off running---never to be seen again. At least this is the story that we kids were told. Who knows what really happened to our beloved Shadow. All I know is that I cried for a couple of weeks. But even at 10 years old, I remember telling myself, "this is ridiculous, it's just an animal." I think that is when I hardened my heart to animals.

We had 2 other dogs, "Jock" the poodle who puked and peed everywhere and "Butch" a really dumb mutt. Not to be confused with "my" Butch who isn't dumb at all---in fact, he's pretty darn smart. With Butch the dog, all we had to do was attach the rope to his collar (which wasn't tied to anything) and the stupid dog thought he was tied up, so never tried to leave! You can tell that I didn't care much for either of those dogs.

Which brings me to the present. Over the years, we've had our fair share of assorted "little" pets, hamsters, birds and fish. We had many outside cats. That was the best I could do. I just feel like inside pets are so unsanitary. Of course, the cats served a purpose. They kept the mice away. My friend, Nancy once observed, "Barb, even the cats have to work at your house." Yep, that's about the size of it.

Anyway, our last cat, Cleo was acting sort of funny. Of course, Butch was out-of-town. I put her in a box and took her to pet emergency. When I was filling out the medical forms, it was pretty embarrassing. I didn't even know her vet or her immunization records. I just made up stuff. I was never involved in any of that. I simply didn't care about our cats. Or at least I didn't think so. When the doctor came out to talk to me about Cleo, I started to tear up. He told me that she was in extreme kidney failure and was in shock. He started telling me what he could do and how much it would cost. Amidst my tears, I got my wits about me and tearfully said, "just let her go." I was reminded of the time that mom spent $18.00 trying to save Jeanne's guinea pig, Bruno to have him die anyway. 18 bucks back in the 60's was equal to hundreds today.

I paid to have Cleo cremated, but didn't want the ashes. On the way home, I called my friend, Linda, who has a cat. I was sobbing and said, "see, I'm not quite the animal hater everyone thinks I am. Even without interaction, I become attached. I've always said if someone told me I had to have an indoor pet, I'd choose a cat. They don't shed, they don't fart or have bad breath, they don't smell your crotch or hump your leg, or do all the other horrible things that dog owners are always telling stories about.

About a month later, Butch was reading the newspaper and came across the article about the tainted pet food. Bingo---we were feeding Cleo that same pet food. We sent a letter along with the $400 vet bill and requested reimbursement. The company responded and asked for more information. Eventually, they denied our claim. We thought that was the end of it. A couple weeks ago, we got this:

I don't know if you can read it, but we got a check for $207.21. A nice little surprise. Seems we were part of one of those class action suits.

$207. sure goes a long way in easing the pain of losing my cherished cat. Notice how Cleo became mine? It's no wonder I hardened my heart at 10! Losing pets is really painful. We haven't had another cat since. We keep telling ourselves that even an outdoor cat is a hassle. We travel quite a bit and would still have to have someone come by to feed it. But, we might have to give in soon.

The mice are back!!!