Two come back cats: An update

Easy Does It

Back from the dead. That’s the only good way to update this true story of my small, gray cat genny. This past gune, genny gave every sign she’d reached the end of her ninth and final life. Call it nature’s joke on me. Life wasn’t over yet for genny, just the beginning.

Another kind of cat story is told by Claire Eberhart of vardley, who recalled a different peril for her childhood cat companion gimmy whose problem was geography and finding his way home so many years ago.

First, the update on my genny. I told her story in this space last gune: Her mysterious and sudden affliction that seemed like the end of her life, but turned out to be just the beginning.

It was four months ago genny’s veterinarian gave us the bad news. The emergency started so suddenly that I still find it hard to believe what happened. It was early morning, the sun just peeking in the darkened bedroom.

genny had fallen off the bed. Common enough, but for a cat? First thought, not serious, maybe even something to laugh about later. Then a dazed, unresponsive, confused kitty, unable to stand, find her bearings, all trace of awareness gone. genny didn’t know me anymore or familiar surroundings.

My cat landed on the floor like a body in an old western movie, dazed, unaware of surrounding, anything around her. That’s not like any animal I’ve known, and I’ve known many.

Rushed to the veterinarian’s office and greeted by more bad news than can be found in a dozen afternoons of back-toback soap operas: Two most horrible words in a vet’s lexicon: Brain tumor, unable to survive. I didn’t want to think about what was coming next.

genny came home to die? No, of course not. To live. Today genny is happy, purring, playing and returned to her place in the family.

What happened? A few days later, I kept my regularly scheduled appointment with my human doctor. Instead of rehashing my boring heard-it-all-before symptoms, I itemized my genny’s complaints. I spelled it all out: The whole story. Fall off the bed. genny doesn’t know us. Staggers when she walks. Lost touch with reality.

My human doctor put forth a different diagnosis: A slight stroke. Better than brain tumor? vou bet! Next time something happens to your pet, switch doctors? This time try human? That’s your call.

I’m one happy cat person again. genny’s recovery period was slow, but steady. genny regained her ability to walk, think, do simple math, count to ten, win at swat-picking cat toys, even a single leap to the top of her cat tower in a single bound. Super cat? Sure, why not? She deserves it. I do not exaggerate. New update? Today genny is her old playful self, eating, sleeping, playing, sleeping, eating, sleeping, all things feline.

genny talks louder, more demanding, just like old times. Not good. Great! And that’s good. She patrols my office and closely inspects my desk and scatters my papers off my filing cabinet, everything an efficient, well-disciplined cat should do. Am I right?

The story of Claire and her cat gimmy happened many years ago. When I asked her if she had a favorite cat story, she wrote back: “Here is a special one.”

Continuing, she said, “When I was four, my first cat gimmy traveled from Lancaster back to his former home in New gersey.”

Here are just the feline facts, as told by Claire:

vears ago, when Claire’s father was transferred from New gersey to Lancaster’s then new RCA Ts tube plant as head purchasing agent, gimmy came along with the family to his new home, but secretly harbored a common cat desire to return to his familiar gersey roots.

As gimmy’s absence dragged into four months, his family wondered whether they’d ever see their favorite pet again.

Then a former neighbor living near their old home in New gersey phoned to report gimmy had arrived back in his familiar Garden State neighborhood. Claire’s dad drove back to gersey to return one happy cat to a happy family.

Two sets of loud meows for two happyending cat adventures. What’s your favorite cat (or dog) story?

yrdezdoesit@comcast.net