Sixteen years ago on a sunny day we brought home a little ginger kitten from the local shelter. We named her McGwire, because it was the same day as Mark McGwire hit his 62nd home run. And she was a ginger, so it fit.
The Redhead was not quite a year old then, and she was only a few months. From the moment he laid eyes on this tiny little ginger ball of fur and poked her with his pudgy little finger, she was his kitty.
They grew up together. McGwire, or Mac, as we like to call her, didn’t like very many people. She shunned most everyone except her immediate family. But, oh how she loved the Redhead! You could see her little head perk up every time he walked into the room. He would pick her up and hold her like a baby in his arms, while kissing her smushy little face. She licked his fingers and rubbed her furry head against his hands. If he happened to have his room door closed, barring her from entry, you could hear her yowls from other floors in the house as she pounded her little paws against his room door until he opened it.
I can’t begin to describe the swelling in my heart when I would look in on the Redhead sleeping every morning before going to work and see two gingers on that bed – a small feline and my son. She would sleep with him every night, and when she heard me peek through the door, she would lift her head to ensure that no one was out to hurt her human, look at me, and peacefully close her eyes again.
The bond between an animal and her human.
Last week I had to take Mac to the vet, because she refused to eat. At first I thought it was because she was grumpy with us for leaving her with Rob’s step brother while we went to Vegas. After all, he’s not us. But no. She refused to eat again, and began vomiting spectacularly green, foamy liquid after a few days. Her calcium and kidney levels are off the charts, and she’s so weak, that the internal medicine doc put her on a feeding tube. They’re running a bunch of tests – ultrasounds, blood tests, biopsies, x-rays…
Mac is still alive and being fed through a tube. So far her treatment is costing us $4000. It’s a lot. Who has that kind of money lying around? And it could be more before her calcium returns to normal. But I refuse to let my friend die because it’s too expensive to help her. I refuse to break my son’s heart because I couldn’t afford to save his buddy. I won’t go back on my promise to care for this beautiful sweet creature, because of money. When you make a commitment to an animal, it’s no different than a commitment to a human being. These are creatures completely dependent on you for food, shelter and care. Would you really let them die, because it was too expensive to help them live?
Poor, sick kitty.
It’s not about money. It’s about love.
Look, you’ve seen me ask for support for my friends on this blog when they needed help healing their furry friends. I’m good at asking for help for others, but not so good for myself. However, I’m also smart enough to know when I can’t handle things on my own. $4000 is a lot of money, and it may wind up being much more than that.
So I’m swallowing my pride and asking for your help today. Help me save my friend. Help me heal her – something the doctors say is very possible. Help me give my son a few more years with his best friend. She is in the hospital. She needs tests. She needs IV fluids and already has a feeding tube. She needs medication to control her calcium. And then there’s the cancer. It’s very likely that she has it, according to the hospital. So she will need chemotherapy. They’re taking care of this soft, sweet, dedicated creature, but the cost is ridiculously high, and I need help.
If it helps me save Mac, I will resort to begging, and that’s essentially what I’m doing, because when you love something this much, you swallow your pride. I’m not above begging for my friend, because I love her so much. And I love my son, and I want to do everything I can to help him have a few more years with his little feline sister.
I know $4000 is a lot of money, but I also know the generosity of people who understand what it’s like to love and commit yourself to an animal. I will pay it. I will do whatever I have to do to make her well again, but I need help. I did create a GoFundMe site to raise money for Mac, and I have shared it with Facebook friends and Twitter followers.
There is also a PayPal button in the upper right hand corner of this blog where you can help as well.
I know times are hard. I know today’s economy has a lot of folks worried about their finances. I know I’m asking a lot. But anything you can do at all to help me save the Redhead’s best friend would be appreciated. Anything at all.
Please help me live to watch TV for a few more years!
Anything I don’t use for Mac will be donated to a no-kill shelter to help other animals find loving families.
UPDATE: Well, we’re going to start her on chemotherapy. It’s just a shot, and it doesn’t harm her in any way. She won’t lose her hair and she won’t vomit like humans do. But the doctor hopes that in a few days, she will start eating and recovering. The one thing I don’t want to do is keep her on a feeding tube forever. I can’t imagine this is good for her quality of life in any way, but I guess I’ll need to talk to her doctors some more. If she doesn’t start eating, even after the chemotherapy, what do we do?