All Cats go to Heaven

If ever there were a cat slated for Cat Heaven, Echo was it. Echo hails from Oak Cliff and was our first "catch and release" attempt. The way that is supposed to work is that you trap a feral cat, spay or neuter them, and release them back into their environment. We were on point with steps one and two, it's that third step that gave us trouble. (Well, actually the first step gave us a good bit of trouble as well.) Echo was a very small kitten when we rescued her, maybe 6-7 weeks old, and previously untouched by a human hand. After much patience and diligence, I was able to lure her into a carrier and close the door behind her. Talk about an unhappy kitten. I then put the carrier in the car and drove her to the SPCA. The SPCA took one look at her and said, "We can't take her. She's wild." My reply was something like, "no kidding, that's why I brought her here. What am I supposed to do with her." I then called Lisa, who up until this point had been very supportive of my efforts, and explained that the SPCA wouldn't take her. I think her reply was something like, "We can't take her. She's wild." And so I brought her home. The idea was that we would "tame" her and then find someone to adopt her. The taming was pretty fun and I have always felt really powerful that we were able to accomplish that. When it came time to "adopt her out", Lisa couldn't part with her....so, we adopted her and she has always been "lisa's cat."

Echo played a very important role in Lisa's life, and was an integral part of household chemistry. Her greatest accomplishment was getting Lisa through graduate school, something no other mortal had been able to accomplish. She would stay up with Lisa faithfully while she did research, wrote papers, procrastinated, and the like. While the rest of us (myself, Nick, Earl, Valentine, Mohican and Jezebel) were fast asleep, Echo burned the midnight oil right along side Lisa. When she finally turned off the computer and came to bed, so did Echo.

In addition to her role with assisting Lisa in obtaining her Master's, Echo also brought an element of playfulness to our feline bunch. She loved playing with toys, chasing bugs, hiding in a multitude of places, and climbing and scratching. She was the only cat that actually "used" the cat tree and made it to the top shelf, and boy did she ever. She would race from the kitchen, run along the top of the couch, touchdown in the hallway, up off the writing desk, and onto the top shelf of the cat tree. It was quite impressive. She would playfully engage Mohican in games we didn't understand and would allow Jezebel to groom her. She loved to be stroked and scratched, but she rarely demanded it. Echo also had a special talent. She talked to birds. She would sit in the window and chatter with them in a language we didn't speak. It was beautiful and always caused us to stop and listen. Echo was particular, and I liked that. Several visitors never did catch a glimpse of Echo, for some it took multiple visits before she would show herself, yet for others, Echo warmed up quickly. She didn't care for loud, booming voices and would retreat under the bed the moment she heard one. I often wanted to join her.

We had the pleasure of sharing our space with Echo for nearly four years. During the week of February 18th, Lisa noticed that Echo had been vomiting fairly frequently and was more lethargic than usual. We kept a close eye on her to determine if intervention was needed. After a few days of her seeming pretty okay for most of the day and then worse in the evenings, we took her to the vet. On February 22nd, she was examined by our vet, Dr. Johnson, and he had a few theories that included a possible bladder infection or urinary tract infection. However, when he took a urine sample to run some tests, he was very concerned about how diluted it was. We revealed that she had, in fact, been drinking large amounts of water over the past couple days. The urine test did not reveal anything significant, so he suggested that they draw blood and run a bunch of tests. Echo donated without much incident and we took her home to await the results. Echo's condition worsened throughout the day and after I continued to bug them for the blood test results, I was finally told that the results weren't good and that my not even four year old cat was in chronic renal failure. They suggested that it was possible that it was acute (if she had gotten into a toxin or something) and that they may be able to do dialysis to flush her system completely and see if that helps. We brought her back to the vet immediately so that they could start her on IV fluids. She spent that night at the clinic. The following morning, February 23rd, we met with our vet, Dr. Johnson, who went over the blood test results with us. (We had taken a copy of the blood work home with us to search the internet for answers with all signs pointing to something serious and fatal.) He confirmed that her kidneys were failing and that her levels were so high that she very likely had only days or weeks left to live. He stated that three things could be the cause of her kidney failure: polycystic kidney disease (a genetic condition), lymphoma (cancer), and chronic renal failure caused by something else. He stated that the prognosis wasn't great for any of them, but that the timeline and course of treatment would differ and an ultrasound would confirm the diagnosis. He stated that if the kidneys were small and shriveled up, it would be chronic renal failure; if the kidneys were some description I can't remember, it was likely lymphoma; and if they were full of cysts instead of kidney matter, it was polycystic kidney disease. We elected to have him complete the ultrasound (which is expensive, but painless) so that we would have an answer and, for me, to determine whether or not I should blame myself. The ultrasound revealed bilateral polycystic kidney disease, something she was born with and something we could have done nothing about even had we known she was born with it. It was tragic, but inevitable. Dr. Johnson then said he would pump her full of fluids so that she would be feeling well enough to enjoy a few more days at home talking to the birds. And that she did. We said goodbye to Echo on February 27, 2007.