IN LOVING MEMORY OF THOSE WHO AWAIT US AT THE BRIDGE….
RAINBOW BRIDGE
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to
someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are
meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they
can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water
and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to
health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made
whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our
dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy
and content, except for one small thing; they each miss
someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one
suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright
eyes are intent; His eager body begins quivers. Suddenly
he begins to run from the group, flying over the green
grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special
friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion,
never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your
face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you
look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long
gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Author unknown...
So many of my precious old ones have gone on ahead to the Bridge in the last few years that I felt I should create a special page just for them so that they can live on in cyberspace as they always will in my heart. Maybe if someone reads this and notices some of the same symptoms in their kitty it could make a difference.
Click on the name to see a picture:
Tashi and I only had a couple of months together. I adopted him as an adult from the animal hospital I was working at. He was a stray grey and white neutered male kitty that someone brought in. No one ever came in to claim him. He was a sweet gentle kitty who deserved to live and so after a few weeks I adopted him. I named him Succotash because he was so sweet it was 'corny'. After we'd been together about 6 weeks I came home from work one night and couldn't find him. After frantically searching for about a half an hour I finally found him under the sink next to the pipes. I took him right over to the vet immediately but his vitals were all fine so they sent us home again. We started to think maybe he had just wanted to be alone for a while. About 2 weeks later he did it again. This time his temperature was too low so they kept him for further diagnostics. X-rays showed that one kidney was abnormally small and the other abnormally large. Bloodwork showed that he was in the final stages of kidney failure. The doctors said that he must have been very old when I adopted him, and that the one kidney had been making up for the other one all his life but it just couldn't do it anymore. Because the problem was so far advanced there really wasn't anything we could do for him but keep him comfortable. I spent the next couple of days coaxing him to eat, holding him while they gave him fluids under his skin, praying for him to get better, and crying gallons of tears. I asked if he was suffering and the vet said he was not in pain, that he probably just felt a little nauseous. They let me take him home so we could spend one last night together and I held him all night long (he liked to sleep on my chest facing me) talking to him and telling him how beautiful heaven would be. I had never heard of the Rainbow Bridge at this point, but I had pictured heaven as being very similar. He was such a good boy. He purred through all. The next day I held him in my arms as the doctor gave the injection. Tashi continued purring right up until the moment his heart stopped, on a cold winter's day in February of 1989. We hadn't really been together long enough for me to notice any changes in his behaviour other than hanging out under the sink. This was my first loss of a kitty to kidney disease, but unfortunately not the last. If there's a flaw in the design of a cat, it's in the kidneys. If you notice any changes in your kitties coat, behaviour, or drinking/eating/toilet habits get them to the vet for at least bloodwork. It doesn't just happen to old kitties either. It rips your heart out afterwards thinking to yourself I should have known something was wrong. Toby Toby was a cream Persian, neutered male kitty. He was the first kitty I got when I moved out on my own after college. A friend of mine was afraid that her husband was hurting him when she was at work so she brought him to me. He was such a lover. I was in a not so great relationship with an engineer at that time, and after he dumped me I went into a deep depression. Toby's fur soaked up more tears than any brand of tissue ever could. We kind of helped each other I guess. He was coming out of an abusive home and I was coming out of a verbally abusive relationship. He had FUS (feline urological syndrome) which meant that every once in a while he'd get blocked so he couldn't urinate. When this happens it is an emergency and the animal must be taken to the vet immediately (they will die without treatment). He had a pretty bad case of it and even with the special diet (Hill's C/D) he ended up having to have a special surgery where the doctor 'rewires' their plumbing. The way it was explained to me is that the female urinary tract is of a slightly larger diameter than a males so there's a smaller chance of it getting blocked. So with this surgery they somehow rewire the males tract in such a way that they end up urinating from a different place with a larger diameter, like a female. The surgery helped him immensely and he had no more episodes of FUS during his life. In 1992 his kidney began to fail suddenly, and I had to send him to the Bridge. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever done because we had been together for so long and he was part of me.
Yogurt Yogurt was a neutered male, black and white kitty. He was the first kitty that I ever got as a kitten. He was the runt of his litter, but he grew into a beautiful large boned guy. When I adopted him Toby was the only other kitty I had. Right away Toby took him under his paw and looked out for him. The first night I had him I was in the living room and they were off playing. Then Toby came into the living room and started meowing. He was not a very vocal kitty usually so it got my attention. He led me (yes, just like in a Lassie movie) to where Yogurt was. I had bought one of those bat-a-bout kind of toys with an elastic string and put it on the knob of a dresser drawer in the bedroom. Somehow Yogie had gotten himself all twisted up in the elastic and was unconscious. He was starting to get cold. I had to rub the life back into his body. He was okay but I never never bought one of those toys again and I told everyone I knew who had a cat never to buy one either. Toby saved his life and none of us ever forgot that. Yogie had a lifelong battle with IBD (inflammatory bowel disease). He would get these terrible bouts of diarrhea and flatulence. There isn't much that can be done about it other than treatment during the bouts. It didn't seem to affect his quality of life. He was a happy go lucky guy, purring all the time and sleeping next to me every night of his life with his head resting on my arm. How I loved him. We had 15 years together before I had to send him to the Bridge in 1998 due to complications from the IBD. I miss my Munchkin (his nickname) every day
Petunia Ah, what can I say about my little Tootstoots. She was a golden-shaded spayed female Persian with a feisty little personality and the claws to go along with it. I loved her very much, as much as she would allow. She wanted her space and I had to respect that. She was so beautiful and could have moments of incredible sweetness. But then she'd realize I was petting her and that she was purring and would stop'n'swat immediately. She only got sick once in her life and the only way I could get her pills down her was to crush them up in butter and smear it on her paws and face so that when she groomed herself she'd get the medicine in her! It worked but was very messy. In early 1998 her kidneys began to fail suddenly and I had to send her to the Bridge. We had only been together about 14 years, but they were very special ones. I miss you Tootsyboots.
Butterscotch Scotchie was a neutered female calico kitty that showed up outside work one day. I took her home. Her being a calico automatically meant that she was queen of the roost. She was a wee bit chunky (okay she was fat) and had such a calico personality. She had her spot on the bed and no kitty in their right mind would try to lay there but her. She was a sweety, too, but you always knew who was boss--her. She would let me pet her for hours, but never would she let me pick her up. She would purr and purr, she was such a good girl. But when she was not in the mood for attention she let you know it, with her nails. She was especially close to Toby and, in the end, followed him to the Bridge by 2 weeks. She displayed no signs of trouble until the very end when her kidneys were failing. I swear--I've lost several to kidney disease and it's never shown the same symptoms twice. It makes it so hard to detect. With her there was absolutely no change in behaviour other than I know she was mourning the loss of Toby. We all were. She was eating, drinking, etc. all normally. But then one morning I woke up and she wasn't on the bed. Instead she was laying on the floor by the front door, which she had never ever done before. We immediately went to the vet, but the bloodwork showed it to be very bad. Needles and pills would have broken her spirit, but still not have been enough to heal her body, so we had to send her to the Bridge. We will always miss our Scotchiedoodles.
Sandie Sandie-girl was a tiny little calico/white spayed female that I adopted from the animal hospital. She was one of those kitties that just never got very big, always looked like a 6-month old kitten. She was a lover, always wanting to cuddle. She was pretty good friends with Yogurt but not too crazy about the others. She was gentle and sweet, and so beautiful. In 1997 she began to show some weakness in her movements and so we took her in to the vets. She had AIHA (auto-immune hemolytic anemia) and was hospitalized for treatment. The prognosis was not good but we did everything we could. She passed away while in the hospital, in her sleep, early on the morning of July 4, 1997. She's the only one of my babies that I wasn't with when they passed on, and that haunts me. I had been visiting with her the night before (I practically move into the hospital whenever one of my kitties is sick) and had told her about the Bridge just in case, but I never really thought it could happen. She knew she was loved, but still she died alone. I have her ashes (I always have the ashes saved) and she is home with us now, for always. She'll not be alone again.
Gomez Into each cat lovers life there comes, but once, a kitty like Gomez. He was a neutered male light orange and white kitty. He was a stray that had been hit by a car. The lady had flipped her car twice (she was unhurt, luckily) trying to avoid him, but hit him none the less. I walked into the kennel at work (worked at the vet part time as a second job) one night and saw this enormous creature laying with it's back to me in a cage. I thought it was a dog at first because of the size, but had never seen a dog that color. But then as I drew closer to the cage he lifted his head and our eyes met. It was love, immediate and eternal. I looked into his eyes and found such beauty and loneliness--the loneliness of a stray that has never known the joy of being loved. He had a dislocated hip and a bad laceration on his fanny, but he was going to be okay. I immediately accepted financial responsibility for any surgery he might need because I knew that we were going to be together. No one every claimed him. They tried to put his hip back in joint but it wouldn't stay (they also neutered him while he was under); the vet said his hip would still be okay, that over time an artificial joint would form and he'd get around just fine--and he did. His pads were cracked from years of walking on hot pavement, and he carried the scars on his head from many tomcat adventures. When it came time for me to take him home the vet wouldn't let me pay the bill-everyone loved Gomeygomes and were just so happy he was okay. He adapted very well to our indoor only home. Over time his pads became soft again and his wounds healed. He had a lion's purr and was so gentle. He'd let you pet him until the end of time. He had a slight heart murmur that hadn't been causing him any trouble. In late 1992 he started to act like he had a cold, so I took him to the vet. After a couple of weeks on an antibiotic he still wasn't better so, even though his heart murmur was unchanged we decided to do an ECG and an ultrasound. The ultrasound showed that he was having CHF (congestive heart failure). We immediately put him on the prescribed medicines and that bought us several more precious months together. He was still happy and purring. One morning I woke up and his head was bent under funny. The vet said he must have had a blood clot pass through his system. After a day or so of intensive care he was okay again. But the vet had me start giving him one quarter of a baby aspirin every third day to help keep it from happening again. (Aspirin can kill a cat so it is very seldom prescribed, and even then only in very very small doses--don't ever give your kitty aspirin unless specifically instructed to do so by your vet.) And so we had a couple more quality months together. I loved him so. In April of 1993 we had exhausted the avenue of what could be done, and he became weaker. And so with great sorrow we had to send our noble friend on to the Bridge. Like Tashi, he purred right up to the second his heart stopped. I'm not sure who was crying harder, the vet or myself.
Homeboy Homey was a neutered male black and white stray that I adopted from the animal hospital. When I adopted him we knew he had kidney trouble. So right from the start he was on a special diet (Hill's K/D). I tried the homemade equivalent of K/D (which involves liver and rice) but he would only pick out the liver pieces and eat them. So, eventually I got him used to the K/D. He was a feisty old guy, with one broken fang tooth. Kind of gave him a lopsided look. He was a one person kitty, and really only let me hold him. He was small in size but big in spirit. We spent several happy years together. Then one day I noticed that he seemed to be breathing harder than usual. Bloodwork showed him to be severely anemic. He was hospitalized and put on fluids with vitamins and all sorts of other stuff in them. The vet felt it was related to his kidney problems, because they still showed as bad in the bloodwork. After a few days on the treatments he seemed much better and so I brought him home for the night. We left the catheter in his vein because we weren't sure how he'd do. At first he was really glad to be home. He ran around and jumped up on the stereo and seemed quite frisky. But I was concerned because I noticed the others sniffing at him. I've seen animals do that before when one of the others is very sick/near death. It's like they know way before we do that something is wrong. Later that night he was still acting okay but then during the night he vomited and when I woke up the next morning he was definitely not okay. So we went back to the vets and in the end we had to make the sad choice to send him to the Bridge. Because neither the vet or I could figure out what had happened, and because I have other kitties and wanted to rule out the possibility of it being anything the others might have caught from him, I had the vet do an autopsy. The autopsy showed that he had actually had a very rare form of cancer right inside of one of his kidneys (it didn't even show up in the xray because it was inside the kidney). The cancer had metastasized into his lungs and that is why he had become anemic and seemed to have difficulty breathing. I guess once cancer takes over it really messes up the blood chemistry. Having kept him on the K/D actually bought him several years of quality time by not requiring his good kidney to work as hard. But it's something that we never would have know had we not autopsied. It's a difficult choice to make whether or not to let them do that to your kitty. But once your kitty has passed on to the Bridge, all that remains is the body, which is not the part of them that you loved anyways. Or at least for me it's not. I love their soul, their spirit. And so, I chose to let them do it. It helped us to find out that it wasn't some contagious disease that my other kitties could have caught and, technically, it helped to add to my vet's experience and knowledge which may help another kitty someday down the road. I miss my homey all the time but I know that sending him to the Bridge was the only way left to show him how much I loved him
PJ My quiet little friend, my Peederweederman. He was a gorgeous blond tiger and white neutered male kitty. Someone brought him into the animal hospital and send he ran away for a couple of weeks and then came back, but we don't want him anymore. There are so many people in the world that say the cruelest things imaginable. Here was this sweet little kitty, so scared, just wanting someone to love. And these coldhearted callous individuals who were just throwing all that love away. Well, ones mans trash is another mans treasure. And PJ was certainly my treasure. He would lay on top of me at night, with his butt in my face, and watch tv with me. He loved his MTV. And his 'nip. He was quite a 'niphead' actually. When we did catnip, I'd give him a larger pile than the others and he'd wink at me. Then he'd eat it all in practically one gulp and very politely go off on his own and enjoy his buzz in private. He had the quietest little purr. You'd have to get up real close to hear it. He loved to head butt you (it's a way of marking you with their scent) and snuggle up close. He lost his battle with kidney disease in 1993, a few months after Gomez passed away. We sent him to the Bridge with great sorrow. He was only about 12 years old. We'd only had about 5 years together. That's one of the sad things about adopting adult kitties. But I'd do it again in a second. The adult kitties are the ones that need to be adopted the most, so if you're ever thinking about whether it should be a kitten or an adult, choose an adult. Especially if you're at a shelter; because their chances of being adopted are less than those of a kitten. Even though we only had about 5 years together we made a lifetime of memories out of it. And I still carry them in my heart.
Sunnyboy Sunnyboy was a neutered male tiger kitty, born 1/83. Every one that ever knew him loved him. His previous owner had chosen to mutilate him by having all four of his feet declawed (a procedure I am violently opposed to because I've seen it done when I worked for a vet, and have seen how horrible it is for the kitty when they wake up) so he couldn't even scratch behind his ears very well when he had an itch. He was a big boy, weighing in at around 25 pounds at one point. His previous owner moved to a new house and said they didn't want him anymore (another owner that didn't deserve the wonderful gift they had been given) so I adopted him. He was one of those kitties that had the sweetest disposition, you could literally hold him every minute of the day and he would purr through all. He had a booboo on his tail that wouldn't heal and in the end it had to be amputated almost all the way up so his tail ended up looking like a bunny tail almost. He had no trouble adjusted to the lack of tail. He also became diabetic for a while back in 1994-5. But then it kind of went into 'remission' as long as he stayed on his special diet. Neither one of us missed the twice daily insulin injections. The way that he went into remission was scary though. It was on New Year's Eve at about 11:45pm. He had been sleeping in the window seat in the living room. Then he got up and started walking around in circles and acting disoriented. Scared the heck out of me and I called the vet's beeper immediately. By the time the vet called me a few minutes later he had circled his way out to the kitchen and eaten something. So he was better. The bloodwork showed that he didn't need insulin anymore (we double-checked at regular intervals over a period of a few months to make sure). He was such a sweet precious old mush. We had to send him to heaven on 8/13/97 because he had advanced liver cancer. Things just aren't the same without our precious sunnybuns. We miss him so very much.
Fettucine Fettucine (Marshmellow) was a neutered male kitty born 5/83. He was such a big old mush; purred every minute of his life. He had a squeaky little meow. We had to send him on to heaven on 3/14/98. He had been battling kidney disease for some time; we had had him on a special diet and were giving him fluids subcutaneously. But then his heart became weakened as well. The vet said that sometimes kidney disease and heart problems go hand in hand. We did everything we could, but he was at the point where he was going to be suffering and I couldn't let that happen. Rest well, my beautiful mushimushiman. Mommy loves you. Open Bonz.gif Bonz was a neutered male kitty. He was a stray so we didn't know his age; the vet said he was at least 10 when I adopted him. He was such a wonderful cat. He was a bit of loner socially, but was happy and purr all the time while we were together. We had 7 or so years together before his kidneys failed him in July of 1998. We all miss him very much.
See a picture of Odan Odan was a neutered male kitty, born 1986. He was a beautiful kitty with a personality to match. He was named after a character on Star Trek: The Next Generation. He wasn't overly happy with other cats but he loved people. He would soak up all the attention he would get and loved to sit with me when I was at the computer. He was always hungry and would make sure I fed him first in the morning before I did anything else. What a wonderful boy he was. In August of 1999 one of his eyes suddenly became very swollen and glazed over. I took him to the vets thinking he might have conjunctivitus. Unfortunately it was something much worse. They looked in his mouth and could see that there was swelling in the back on the same side as the eye that was swollen. So they xrayed his head and found there to be a lesion or growth behind his eye. The doctor said that it would eventually push his eye out of his head. He already had a couple of health problems (had inflammatory bowel disease for much of his life and was in the beginning phases of kidney disease)and that, combined with his age, meant that they didn't feel the growth was operable. They gave him antibiotics and steroids and sent us home to see if he would pick up (we were all hoping for a miracle but it was not meant to be). I finally got him to eat a little but he threw it back up and basically was just going downhill very rapidly. I didn't want him to suffer so the next day we had to send him to the Bridge. I miss him every day and would give just about anything to be able to hear him meow at me one more time. Be good Donniedonnie-mommy loves you.
Matilda Matilda was a spayed female black lab cross dog. She was small, about 33 pounds. She was a stray that I took in. She was not the smartest dog in the world but she was sweet and good-natured. She loved to be outdoors. She loved ice cream and gainesburgers more than anything in the world. She suddenly had a heart attack in her run one day when she was about 12 years old. There was nothing the vets could do and we had to send her to the Bridge. We miss our Tillybill very much.
Murphy Murphy was a neutered male Black Lab Retreiver. He belonged to clients at the animal hospital where I worked. He was epileptic and needed to be given phenobarbitol everyday. The owners travelled a lot so Murphy was always being boarded at the hospital. So I used to take him for walks a lot. He was such a good boy. Then one of the owner's parents (out of town) died and the remaining parent had Alzheimer's and required elder care. So they couldn't keep Murphy anymore. They didn't want to put him to sleep if they could help it so I adopted him. We spent several happy years together. He loved to go for rides in the car-especially if it involved vanilla ice cream (never never give your dog or cat anything with chocolate in it because it can cause severe liver damage and can even be fatal--carob is okay chocolate is not) or a quarter pounder with cheese. He was about 15-1/2 years old when he developed an inoperable tumor along his spine. We had to send him to the Bridge in 1993. He was such a sweetheart. We all miss Murphman and remember him well.
Phoenix Phoenix was a neutered male Collie. I adopted him when he was about 13 years old. He had to have a front leg amputated because a previous owner had left an old injury untreated and it was gangrenous when I found him. But it didn't phase him at all. He got around quite well for a 13 year old three-legged doggie. He loved his Beggin' Strips. Like Murphy, he also loved quarter pounders with cheese. I'm sure I gave him too many treats, but he was happy and comparatively healthy until he succumbed to liver failure when he was 16-1/2 years old. In 1990, a couple of days after my grandmother passed away, I had to send my beautiful old man on the the Bridge.
Return to homepageThanks for visiting this page. Please don't hesitate to take your pet to the vet whenever you have any question that something may be wrong. You'll never forgive yourself later if it really was something serious.
© 1998 jseamans@prodigy.net
Copyright JoAnne Seamans 1998
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