I adopted Pooka {and his brother Higgy} in May of 1998. He was this tiny little black kitty sitting in a very large wicker basket. I leaned down and he ran right over. I picked him up and he immediately started purring. I was done. He had to come home.
Over the years he was the friendliest kitty I've met. He was like a dog in that he would run up to anyone and rub against their legs purring. He made friends with all our friends and all service people who came to the house. He loved attention!
My little boy overcame so much too. He had multiple bladder infections each year, until we learned he had bladder stones. Once that was discovered, he had surgery to remove them so he didn't die. He had more than we thought, but came through with flying colors!
Next, he was diagnosed with diabetes and had to have daily insulin. He handled it way better than I! We would put him on the counter, grab his meds, fill his needle, then give it to him. He purred the entire time. Afterwards he would jump off the counter and head to his bowl, knowing breakfast was on it's way!
We were lucky that his diabetes went into remission. For a couple years he led a normal kitty life. He was so loved by all that when we went to Europe in 2010, the boarding kennel we left him at almost didn't give him back! They loved him that much and said to bring him back soon.
A couple years ago he was diagnosed with hyperthyroid, which was rough on him because his body wanted to eat, but his diabetes said no. He wasn't thrilled about not getting more food, but he was still his happy self.
Then in Feb. of 2013 he lost use of his back leg. One moment he could walk, the next nothing. They couldn't figure it out, but sent us home thinking he might gain some use of it. He did. He limped around, but he could get around pretty well. We were so happy.
Then a year ago today, I was sitting at my computer desk. The same one I'm at now and looked down. His cute little face looked up at me with his typical, "Hi Mommy!" smile. I picked him up, petted him, cuddled him, and softly put him down. He walked away purring.
A few minutes later I saw him in front of the bathroom door, his normal spot. I called to him, but no response. I got up and checked on him, but nothing. He was breathing, but non-responsive. I kept petting him and talking to him. Eventually he started to come around. He scared me. I tried to get him to walk, but nothing.
I took him to the kitchen and he kinda walks, but not really. We put him in his bin from his paralyzed days and call the vet. We get an appointment at 3:00 p.m. And we wait. I kept him with me at the desk, talked to him, and petted him.
We go to the vet to find out a blood clot broke off, went to his brain, and caused a stroke. There was nothing they could do for him. In all the years we took Pooka to our vet, they had never not been able to fix him.
So, for today's Thankful Thursday I am so very thankful I was able to have my Pooka Bear for 15 years. He was one of the best kitties you could ever have {he even converted my husband from a non-cat person to a cat person!}. I love you buddy and miss you horribly.
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| A pretty normal Pooka position |
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| He was a big boy and loved watching the birds. |
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| He loved the Christmas Village...and knocking the Christmas Village over... |
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| Probably my favorite photo of Pooka. He loved drinking water from the sink. I walked by the bathroom one morning and he was just sitting there...waiting. {I caved and turned on the faucet.} |
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