The Cat Who Lived In the Closet

Missy was a cat in need, so we took her in. She was quiet as a whisper. She found a spot in the bedroom closet and even with the door open, it was where she remained. It was her safe place. She had her bed, and cat box, and her food and water, and none of the other kitties were allowed to bother her. Months passed, and still, I had a kitty living in my closet. I got used to it.
Missy was grey, one of four short-haired grey cats I have known in my life. There has actually been something similar in personality about three of them. They were undemanding, unassuming, and very genuine. Maybe it came from being rescued as adults and their desire to blend in.

One day when I got home, Missy was on my bed. She turned and looked at me and meowed a little meow of hello, the first I had heard from her. She had become The Cat Who Lived In My Room. Abandoned was the closet.

In the remaining short years we had with Missy she left my room very few times. I guess that some would think of her as being a tad boring, but I learned important things from her. I learned that feeling safe is absolutely everything to a rescued animal, just having one small corner of the world of their own. In that, they are not so different than people. No matter how adventurous any of us are, we all need a soft place to fall, and sometimes, we find that in the gentle voice of someone, or, wonder of all wonders, in being fully accepted, exactly as we are.

Some of the stories from Pet Lovers Promise

Our website, Pet Lovers Promise, has a lot of wonderful animal stories on it and some of those are about the animals in my own life.  Just to get the ball rolling, I am including some of PLP's animal stories on this blog.  Also, I want to let readers know that they can go put their own stories on Pet Lovers Promise! And check out the menu on PLP for all the versions of The Rainbow Bridge we have collected so far.  If you write poems about animals or want to put up a memorial page for your furchildren, please do so.  Pet Lovers Promise funds animal assistance.  That is it's whole purpose for being.

A story about a big black and white dog, Ruby..... a member of our family

My Ruby
by Daybreak Mitchelson

My mother was driving along the highway towards town and saw a big black and white dog looking lost, one day more than a decade ago. Mom pulled over, but had no luck getting that dog to come to her. The next day, it was my brother who saw the same dog and again, no luck. The day after, it was me. My girl crossed the road in front of my car, I stopped, she waited by the passenger door so I could let her in.

Her owners could not be found. She had separation anxiety and dominance issues with other dogs. We guessed she was Border Collie with maybe some Akita thrown in. Brilliant, demanding, complicated, entertaining. She was trouble and love who shadowed my every move. I kept her, and named her Ruby.

My mom, brother and I debated and guessed her age to be 1 1/2 to 2 years. I had her spayed as soon as possible. During her recovery, she vocalized like the drama queen she'd always be, and picked up one of her nicknames... Sarah Bernhardt.

Luckily for all of us, it didn't take Ruby long to get over her separation anxiety. (After somehow causing a minor flood in the utility room. How does a dog break a pipe fitting?)

She's always loved people. All people. Other dogs, not so much. She has a problem with other females, or small dogs. Several years ago she got in a fight through a damaged fence with a neighbor dog and ended up with 100 staples around her neck and throat and a permanently oddly flapping ear. Thankfully, the neighbor was fine. It doesn't matter how Ruby is worked with, she may be ok with a certain dog for awhile but something will trigger her. The change can't be trusted, so it isn't. I refuse to put another dog in danger for the sake of "training" so we simply work around her issues to ensure everyone's safety. (Cesar Milan would have a field day here.)

But Ruby likes the big boys. Soon after adopting her, we lost our two ancient hybrids, Wolfie and Mischa. And soon after that, we ended up with a huge Lab mix named Bodie, a Pit mix named Pony, and another Border Collie mix... this one a pup named Chewie. We had all the boys neutered, and joked about the Queen and her boys. The other dogs knew Ruby was boss (at this point, the nickname Hellbitch had been lovingly tossed about) and they got along wonderfully. Played constantly... a happy bunch. We've lost Chewie and Bodie, but Pony is still happily partnered up with Ruby. You should see her sass him at dinner time. Pony takes forever to eat, so she finishes, then hovers around him. She acts as if she thinks he got extra food. Starts her "roo roo.... roo" sassing and punches him in the shoulder with her foot. So he turns around and they sort of play in place for a few seconds, then he silently tells her to go away, and she does. Ruby doesn't spend a lot of time loose with anyone but Pony these days. We do have several other dogs now, and the Queen does like Mickey, but trying to play with a hundred pound Lab puppy makes her sore.

She bosses the cats, but only verbally. Never has tried to hurt one in all these years, and will even share her mother's bed with a couple of them. In fact, many years ago, the dog who is obsessed with her toy collection and won't share them with any other four-legged, actually made three trips to take three of her favorite toys into a cat's sick room. She placed them next to him while he fought for life. He lived, and she took her toys back, refusing to share them ever again.

Ruby has always needed to feel special. If you give her a new toy, she will chew on it and show it off until her eyes glass over. Unless she sees that you have also gotten someone else a new toy. Then everything loses its shine for awhile.

Ruby is old now. Must be 12 or 13. She has bad arthritis and takes pain meds every day. I have to help her onto the couch, and up stairs. Sometimes she acts like she has a stomachache in the middle of the night, so I get up and let her eat some grass or some yogurt and she goes back to sleep. Her favorite thing (aside from visits from my brother) is to go out with me and be loose outside the fence while I feed the horses. She is so arthritic now, I can actually trust her to stick around instead of running off and getting into trouble.

A few months ago, we thought she was dying. She went downhill so fast... wouldn't eat, drank a ton, couldn't get up, pale gums. Our wonderful vet ran tests and said it didn't look like cancer... treated her for a blood infection and she got better. But that day, I really thought she was leaving me. I didn't know how to deal with that. I still don't know how I will when the time comes. We've had so many animals. Loved them their whole lives and lost several, a few times in horribly traumatic ways. I've been completely devasted by the loss of an animal before, and I have lived through it. Yet somehow, sometimes... one will crawl into your being in a way that is just slightly different. A slight difference, but enough of one to make your fear of their passing reach another level.

Right now my big black and white dog is on the couch next to me. I put a leash on her tied to the coffee table so she won't get down and jump the little dogs. Ruby spends a lot of time this way these days, and is happy to just relax next to somebody. Most of the time. Sometimes she has to do some Sarah-Bernhardt-ing over somebody doing something she doesn't approve of, like having a toy that isn't hers. And just now, I let my Lhasa get up on the other side of me and Ruby had to talk about that a bit, but she'll get over it in a minute.

My Ruby. The Queen of All Things. The Entertainer. The four-legged love of my life. The one I'll beg to come back. I do believe in reincarnation. If she does, maybe I'll call her Sarah.