I adopted Willie from the old Kansas Humane Society in the summer of 1996 when I went looking for a cat I could name after the K-State Willie Wildcat. When this little black & white kitten literally reached thru the cage and wanted to play, I knew that was my kitty. At that time the humane society did not spay or neuter the pets but you had to agree to do it after the adoption. Willie was marked as a boy on the cage and I quickly had the neuter surgery set up. I took Willie to the vet and they said - sorry we can't neuter this cat . . . she's a girl. Could I really name a girl cat Willie? But the name had already stuck with me and I think her, too. So the first issue - gender identity disorder! Poor little Willie would so often be called a "he" for the rest of her life. And she also came home with a bout of ear mites, little did we know that was the first of several ear issues to come.
tether ball with many of these toys. To this day, I have never seen another kitty with her spunk for a toy like that.
At first, Willie loved playing with people, too. Everything was a game and she didn't want to miss out. In time that changed. Not sure why - maybe being home with me (and sister kitty Abby) and no other people did it. Or maybe she just learned from Abby that anyone besides me and the pet sitter who came when I traveled, were not good. I traveling I did. Willie did not like it. She would lay on my luggage or my computer bag when I was trying to pack up. Not sure if she wanted to get packed, too or just wanted to keep me from leaving, but I kind of think the latter. When I was gone, Abby let her know that Pam, the pet sitter was nice and fed them and they both liked her, too. But everyone else was either ignored or greeted with a hiss.
Topeka as well as my home in Wichita. So the kitties, too, had 2 homes. About every other week we packed up and took the trip between Topeka and Wichita, many late at night as I wanted to spend every minute I could in Wichita before heading back to Topeka. The cats became pro's at traveling. But the apartment was not friendly to the cats and they hid a lot. I knew something was wrong and Willie took a trip to a new vet in Topeka. The problem? Fleas. Couldn't believe I didn't see the fleas, but knew something was wrong. Abby had them too. Luckily after a flea bath and the recommended treatment to the apartment, bedding, the car and my condo, we beat the fleas. Yuck! I felt so bad for them.
TV. Willie was nearly always next to me.
As the years went be we lost Abby, her beautiful "sister" kitty. Abby had become pretty frail and lost most of her teeth, so it was terribly sad, but not so surprising when her time came to leave us. Willie liked being an only child. She got all the attention. She was fine being alone with me. But I thought she needed a friend. So a new kitty, Steffi, came into our life. Willie was not so sure about Steffi. But Steffi licked her head and she liked that. So many times I found them sleeping butt to butt - touching each other but never looking in the same direction. I knew they liked each other, but didn't want anyone else to know. Steffi was sweet and still let Willie be in charge. We were a happy "all girl" little family.
Chevy. The kitten I found under a Chevy Cavalier so skinny, covered with fleas, with a large burn on his neck. He looked so tiny, but he was a boy. And even though the door was shut to the downstairs bedroom where he was, Willie knew he was there. Chevy liked Steffi from the start - he also liked the way she licked his head! But Willie was slow to want this addition to the family - and to give up the role of the dominant cat to one who proved to be small, but mighty. And the small didn't last long.
Willie was getting older. And probably due to the "treats" of canned food given from my guilt of leaving them so often with work, Willie's teeth were not good. This time the surgery was not in the ear, but in her mouth as she lost several of her teeth, including the big, fang type teeth in the front. He hiss and meow was definitely worse than her bite without those teeth. But Willie was fine with eating canned food. In fact she liked it. Actually, she loved it like no other cat I've ever seen. She ate it with great enthusiasm and like she hadn't eaten in days. It was so cute and she was a happy cat.
In May of 2010, I was laid off from my job. No more packing the suitcase every week or two and leaving the kitties with Pam. I was home a lot and the cats were happy - except that I had started volunteering at the Kansas Humane Society and often smelled like other cats or even dogs. I think Willie was the happiest to have me home, except when I didn't get out of bed to feed her at her usual time in the morning. But Willie let me know if I was late. First by tapping the small mirror on by bathroom vanity over and over and over and over until I got up and when I moved that, she went to my nightstand and knocked things off the nightstand until I got up. While it may have been annoying, it worked and I admired the smart thinking of that little cat. She loved her food with a vengeance I've never seen from an animal before and probably never will again.
But she was getting worse, not better, and had to go back to the vet. Hoping for something easy, Willie got an enema to clean her out and they got her re-hydrated. But in doing the enema, a blockage was found in the colon and it was most likely cancer. I took Willie home to give her lots of love with the hope that the blockage would move. Unfortunately Willie just became weaker and within a day she only wanted to sleep in the back corner of the downstairs bedroom. My sweet kitty who laid by my side while watching TV and slept with me each night was no longer comfortable. She wouldn't even stay in her favorite kitty bed in the living room, but rather continued to choose the back corner of the bedroom where Steffi watched over her from the bed. And the diarrhea was back and she looked sore and weak. I knew that I was keeping her alive for me and not her.
I miss her so much.