On March 14, 2007, a young grey and white cat was found scrounging for food in a McDonald's dumpster. He was picked up and taken to an animal hospital down the road and named "Shamrock Shake," since that was the special treat at McDonald's at the time for St Patrick's Day. He was a stinky intact male tomcat who desperately needed a bath and a neuter.
I worked at an animal clinic that took in stray cats and fed them until they found homes. In the morning all hospitalized animals needed cages cleaned and changed, and new food and water. I never did the strays because I couldn't have pets while still living at my parents home, and I didn't want to fall in love with a kitten I couldn't keep. Until one day.
I walked into the cat ward, and in the first cage was a grey cat who immediately began pawing at me through the bars and rubbing his head all over. I opened it up and he was just as happy. He was handsome. I looked at his cage card and saw it said Shamrock Shake.
|Dublin in F-Ward at WVMC|
Later he had his neuter surgery. A knot slipped and he hemorrhaged little. NBD. Then when he was healed, I gave him a bath. He just sat there letting me bathe him, and stared off into the distance like his life was over. But it had just begun.
He was put on the adoption board as a young, active, 9 month old cat. He was taken home and returned twice, once because he was a gift and the receiver did not want a cat, and once because he was too old and they wanted a younger kitten. After the second time, I couldn't bear to let him be rejected again. I added him to my account and changed his cage card. "Shamrock Shake" would have to go though. I enlisted help from my teammates. We decided to stick to the Irish theme. One of the assistants suggested Clover. Too demure. How about Dublin? Yes.
My fiancé was soon returning home from Oregon so we could attend his cousin's wedding in April. I called him and told him that before he left, he should go out and procure a litter box, litter and cat food because he would be returning with a cat.
"But I don't want a cat." He said.
I said, "Well it's not up for discussion. You'll learn to love him." And...
Two days after arriving at his new home 2800 miles away from that dumpster, he was sleeping on my pillow next to my future husband. He has been my husbands favorite cat since then.
|On my pillow|
As they aged and became more mature, my husband started calling him Fatman, even though he really wasn't that fat. We also referred to him as Handsome Man, Little Buddy, and Bud-bud. We really only started calling him Dublin again once my daughter could talk, since we didn't want to teach her it was ok to call furries or people fat.
He was super sweet, never hissed or tried to bite or scratch anyone. He was cautious, preferring to hide first and ask questions later if someone knocked on the door. He was always the last to come out and meet people. He was intensely playful, and would jump in for a game any time. He chased the laser pointer with a sniper's focus. He attacked toy mice with a frenzy worthy of Nat Geo. He trotted around with his tail ramrod straight up in the air, except that time Bella did something to him and it was down for a few days. He never ate wet food but he did have a penchant for Chinese.
|Catnip was a favorite|
|Dublin in the Sun|
When Sophie arrived on scene, she started bullying him. He backed down even though he was easily twice her size. He accepted Alice without anything except curiosity. He even warmed up to my daughter and eventually let her pet him and stroke his tail, and he would rub against her. He loved to have his whiskers scratched.
|On the porch in Portland|
He began losing weight 6 months ago. He had a long standing heart condition that was controlled with medication and practically non-existent. Every test I ran came back normal. I posted his case on VIN and in Facebook groups for vets. I asked colleagues for ideas. I thought it might be intercat stress and tried everything I could think of to reduce stress in the house, but my stress increased and was sustained as he continued to lose. Eventually I started him on mild treatment for GI disease presuming that's what it was since no other cause could be found. Still nothing worked and he finally went in for endoscopic biopsies. I was substantially worried to leave him, but I had a previously booked girls trip starting the day after his biopsies were taken.
The day after I left, he had a saddle thrombus and my poor husband had to take his favorite cat to be euthanized without me.
I am so heartbroken. I wasn't there for him when he needed me most, I wasn't there for my husband or daughter to ease the pain of this. I couldn't have predicted this or done anything to fix it, but I still feel like I failed him as a vet and mother. I could have sought more help, taken him to the cardiologist, did more investigating, something.
My little buddy, I am so sorry for the pain you went through. I am so sorry I wasn't there to support you in your last moments. I am so sorry for bringing three bitchy cats into your life and letting them boss you around. I will forever treasure your sweet gentle spirit and I hope you can forgive me. I hope you are running free and chasing birds like you always wanted. I hope I will see you again someday. I love you--love, mommy
|The Handsomest Man|
Other Blogs featuring Dublin:
Professional Courtesy and Pay-it Forward
Three Bad Cats