The Story of Petey...Part One
How a special stray cat came into my life and stole my heart...
I knew in my gut this wasn't going to be good news. I tried so hard to hang onto every word the doctor said as she attempted to explain what they were able to see so far, "...enlarged kidneys, liver slightly abnormal, red blood cells are being destroyed," et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. I only understood about half of what she was saying, but her following statement needed no explanation...
"He's FeLV positive..." was all I heard.
"Wait, what?!?! …
"OH NO! OH NO! OH NO!"
Hysteria ensued as I immediately realized the risk I unknowingly exposed to my entire fur family...
"I didn't know! I thought he was only FIV positive! I have seven other cats! I let him around all of them! Now they probably all have it too! I didn't know! I never would have done that! I didn't know!" (But I should have known.)
Utter sobs of anguish escaped my gutted heart... Not only was I dealing with the emotion of knowing I would soon have to make a hard decision, but now I also bore the weight of worry and guilt concerning the rest of my precious clan. Immediate self-torment proceeded to dominate..."If only I'd done this or if only I'd done that..."
The Wouldah-Couldah-Shouldah game waged war with my mind as I sat in that tiny, windowless examination room. Softly stroking the bridge of Petey's nose as his eyes looked up at me from his portable pet carrier (never ceasing to purr), I couldn’t help but think to myself, "If only I had rescued him sooner."
Petey came to me as a stray and, like so many others, he too discovered the make-shift, fire escape ladder leading to the top of my first level roof and was soon making his daily rounds to my "drive-thru" kitchen window.
When we first met, he had big, beautiful, pointy ears and I couldn't help but notice those long, unusual "thumbs" that my new veterinarian marveled at by exclaiming, "He has opposable thumbs!" (in reference to 'Meet the Parents'). I mention his ears because I would often express regret for not taking him in sooner, BEFORE they got mangled from life on the streets. Unfortunately, we had just taken in a kitten (also a product of my neighborhood) right when Petey started coming around and so the idea of taking him in too felt next to impossible.
For a while it all seemed to work out nicely...he would take naps in our 'Stray Cat Motel,' something my husband built which enabled the strays to come in and out through a window, but still kept them separated from my own indoor cats.
I would feed him and give him pets and he would come and go as he pleased, but once in a while he would show up injured and I would do my best to patch him up before sending him on his way. He was so calm and gentle, never once did he ever hiss or scratch at me, even when applying antibiotic eye gel into his wounded eye. He sat so still, zero resistance! He must have understood I was helping him and so he always allowed it. He was my gentle giant, a true gentleman, perhaps due to his permanent fur tuxedo (it's just a theory).
I wanted to take him in as one of my own, I truly did, but I had five indoor cats at the time and money was super tight. It killed me every time he would softly lean into me with his head while the window was open, hoping to slowly walk across that threshold into a new home. I hated having to refuse entry to this sweet love bug. Sometimes I would pick him up and try holding him inside, but he was so tense and stiff, always in street survival mode, that he just couldn't relax. It wasn't until I was finally able to officially adopt him that he could let down his guard and relax in the safety of my arms; soon he was even playing, to my sheer delight!
But before all the cuddles and snuggles and playtime became reality, a whole series of roof-top events would take place...