Purrseverance: Inspiring Stories of Cat Resilience and Hope

By Sierra Koester

What do cats do when faced with adversity? They persevere. "Purrseverance" contains 16 accounts of how our feline friends triumphed over life's challenges: from the cat who learned to trust after surviving a hoarding situation, to the cat who conquered a life-threatening illness, to the cats who persisted and eventually found their loving forever homes. Each account is told through the eyes of the cat. These tales show that even seemingly hopeless situations can turn around. These stories will inspire you to keep going and persevere when facing adversities in your own life. "Purrseverance" was compiled by award-winning cat writer and enthusiast, Sierra M. Koester.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350932348

Sierra Koester

Sierra M. Koester is an award-winning freelance writer and professional blogger. Sierra is a professional member of the Cat Writers' Association and the content manager at The Cat Blogosphere, a place for all pets and pet bloggers. She also writes Fur Everywhere, an educational and entertaining blog about cats. In her free time, Sierra enjoys reading and spending time with her two cats, Tylan and Giovanni. Find Sierra, Tylan, and Giovanni on their blog, Fur Everywhere, at www.fureverywhere.net.

Book preview

BK90083213.jpg

Purrseverance: Inspiring Stories of Cat Resiliency and Hope

Anthology copyright © by Carmel Cat Publishing 2024.

Copyright © of each individual story and accompanying cat photo is held

by the contributor.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed,

or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact Sierra M. Koester at Carmel Cat Publishing:

[e-mail].

First Edition.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 979-8-35093-233-1

ISBN eBook: 979-8-35093-234-8

I dedicate this book to my Aunt Jinny for turning my dream into a reality. You’ll be forever in my heart.

Virginia F. Tichenor

June 10, 1945–July 15, 2021

Table of Contents

Introduction

My Name Is Not Scooter

Beyond Fear

Lazarus Cat

Wren: A Caged Kitty Can’t Purr

Brian is Home

Who Rescued Who?

Sawyer: The Lucky Cat

Black Cats Do Get Adopted: Harry’s Story

A Warm Place

Tara Finds Her Purr

Carmine Fulfills His Purpose

Ellie Mae: Where I Belong

The Blind Cat’s View from Above

Harvey’s View from the Bridge

Constellation Brie Cheese

From Thailand to Freedom

Acknowledgements

Introduction

I met Jewel when she was 12 years old. She was a beautiful dilute tortoiseshell cat with tortitude. Jewel came to live with me when she was 14 years old after having had a challenging life. It took nearly two years for her to trust that she was safe and loved in our home. I’m honored that she eventually let me into her heart and accepted and loved me as her human.

I’ve always known cats are resilient. They have to be to survive in the wild. Our domesticated feline friends may have easier lives, but they still face challenges, sometimes extraordinary ones.

It wasn’t until I met Jewel, however, that I understood just how remarkably resilient our feline friends can be. Since then, I’ve watched my own cats overcome incredible challenges–everything from learning how to trust a human carer after living in a hoarding situation, to recovering from life-threatening illnesses. Jewel’s persistence and resiliency served as the inspiration for this anthology. I’ve enjoyed working on this anthology and getting to know other cats who have overcome life’s struggles.

My hope is that the stories within this book inspire you the way they have me. Sometimes even seemingly hopeless situations can turn around. Our feline friends have so much wisdom to offer. The next time you’re facing a difficult challenge, I hope you’ll choose to follow these cats’ example to never give up.

Jewel

June, 1998–August 28, 2014

Forever in My Heart

My Name Is Not Scooter

My name is not Scooter. I am not the way I walk. I am not the way I don’t walk. Have I confused you yet? I should probably start from the beginning, shouldn’t I?

My name is Evan. In Gaelic, this translates to young warrior. It’s a perfect name for a cat like me. It really is, and now I’ll tell you why.

I was a tiny, six-week-old kitten when my human mom found me. She worked at a veterinary clinic at the time, and I was abandoned in a carrier at the front door of that clinic on a warm morning in the summer of 2013. I was so tiny that my mom didn’t even see me inside the carrier at first. I wasn’t about to go unnoticed, though, so I told her I was in there by hissing and spitting at her.

Further inspection revealed that I was a bit of a mess. My back legs were splayed out behind me. They refused to hold my weight or to properly function. I was also sneezing up a storm, and there was some rather pungent evidence that my intestines were not happy campers. Before I knew it, I was being diagnosed with things like hind limb dysfunction, upper respiratory infection, and coccidiosis.

After a bit more investigation, a note was found tucked inside the carrier in which I was abandoned. It revealed that I had been living in a barn with my mother cat and littermates. In my first six weeks of life, I could walk. However, a coyote had snuck into the barn where I lived with my feline family. I was the only survivor, and I did not come out unscathed.

The person who left me outside the vet clinic’s front door couldn’t take care of me, so I was admitted to the clinic. I got all sorts of treatments, and I wasn’t keen on any of them. I didn’t like being given gross antibiotics, I didn’t like having x-rays taken, I didn’t like physical therapy, and I definitely didn’t like those needles that stole my blood. I let those who worked at the clinic know all of this with my mighty teeth and claws. They tried to protect themselves with great big gloves, but I still let them hear me roar like a lion.

Though the tough guy inside of me is hesitant to admit this, after less than a week at the clinic, I actually started getting used to being handled by humans. After all, they gave me food, toys, and lots of attention. I started making fewer and fewer attempts to bite them, and I didn’t even hiss and spit all that much anymore. Can you believe I even started enjoying my physical therapy? During it, I got to play and eat treats. It wasn’t so bad after all.

Speaking of my physical therapy, the short story is that it didn’t work. The people at the vet clinic tried almost everything, from basic stretches all the way to laser therapy on my spine, hips, and legs. The coyote who snuck into that barn simply caused too much damage to my tiny little legs. That’s okay, though. In no time at all I had already become a pro at pulling myself around with my front legs. I could even outrun the humans, especially when I knew they were calling me over for treatments when I was far too busy playing.

For the record, I can’t walk on my back legs, but I do have a small amount of feeling in them. I can flex my back toes a bit, and sometimes I can even lightly move my back legs. So although I’m not technically considered paralyzed in my hind legs, I can’t walk on them. Rather, I have what’s called hind limb paresis. Oh, and I should also mention that, unlike some cats with variations of paresis or paralysis, I don’t need help expressing my bladder. I can do that just fine all on my own. There will be more on that later, don’t you worry.

As I underwent physical therapy and other treatments during those early months of my life, I lived at the vet clinic. My time at the clinic might not have gained me the ability to walk again, but do you know what it did get me? It got me my human mom and my forever home with her. She fell in love with me while she worked with me at the clinic. I don’t blame her one bit. I’m really quite charming.

One day my new mom just packed me up in a carrier, left the clinic with me, and took me home. It took some trial and error for my mom and me to figure out exactly what I needed in a home setting to accommodate what makes me the special boy that I am. That said, we’re a great team, and we worked together to figure things out.

While living at the clinic, I taught the people there that I don’t do well with a typical litter box or the litter within it, so I was towel trained. At my house, therefore, I have my very own toilet with low sides that I can easily pull myself into and do my business on a towel. I see my mom go through lots of laundry detergent cleaning all of those towels, but she says I’m worth it. And you know what? She’s right about that.

My home also has footstools and pet stairs for me to use in order to access furniture. I’m a very strong boy, so if you give me a little stool or a small set of stairs, I can pull myself onto couches and beds. These stools and stairs are padded, of course, to keep my beautiful back legs from getting bunged up.

Sometimes I even like to show off just how strong I am by skipping the stools and stairs altogether and simply using my buff front legs to pull myself onto the couch from the floor. It’s quite impressive, if I do say so myself. That’s not to say I’m above asking for help, though. If I want to get up onto something that’s too tall for me to reach, I’ll scream and holler good and loud until my mom gives me a boost.

I’m now nine years old, and I’m still very strong. I’m also still very active. By the time I was a year old, I had developed scoliosis because of the way my spine bends when I pull myself around, but that has never bothered me. In fact, I don’t even notice it. The vet and my mom have also had conversations about what they’ll do if or when I develop arthritis.

The way I walk is indeed a bit unorthodox, so apparently that makes me more susceptible to developing arthritis or other aches and pains. I’m a tough boy, though, and I have yet to show any signs of arthritis. If I ever do, apparently my mom and vet already have a plan. I intend on making them sit on that plan for a good, long while.

Aside from being my strong, active self, can you guess what else I am? I’m an affectionate little fellow. Though I haven’t completely let go of the wild kitten inside of me, these days I’m my mom’s biggest cuddle buddy. I love to sit with her, sometimes on her. If she’s on a couch or bed, I’m right there with her. If she’s cooking in the kitchen, I’m right there at her feet, rubbing her legs, perhaps tripping her when I see fit. If she’s in the house and I can’t find her, I’ll shout for her until she informs me where she is. My mom likes to say that I’m her little shadow. I like to think of it as being her supervisor, but I guess that’s just semantics.

In my nine years, I haven’t only just become a cuddlebug, I’ve also become urinary incontinent. I also have a penchant for urinary tract infections. My vet once told me this sometimes comes with the territory of having back legs like mine.

My urinary mishaps started happening a couple of years ago. My mom noticed I was sometimes wet on my back end, especially right after I’d woken up from a nice, long cat nap. I also started getting what you could call urine scald back there as well.

My mom immediately took me to the vet, of course. After they stole my blood and urine and ran a variety of tests, everything came back perfectly normal. That meant my urinary incontinence was almost certainly a new development related to my hind limb paresis. At that time, I also had my first ever urinary tract infection. However, with some antibiotics, a new bald hairdo on my back end, and a medicated shampoo my mom could clean me with, the infection cleared up quickly.

Slowly but surely, my urinary incontinence got worse. I went from only occasionally losing bladder control, sometimes going months without an issue, to almost constantly leaking urine. The vet did lots of checks and tests on me, and everything pointed to it still just being urinary incontinence. This is now just another thing that makes me who I am.

A lot of people ask my mom questions like, Why don’t you put a diaper on him? I myself can give you the answer to that. Now, how do I put this? You see, I’m violently opposed to wearing anything even resembling a diaper on my body. And I mean that quite literally. I really am sorry I tried to bite my mom the last time she attempted to put a diaper on me, but I simply don’t approve of that sort of behavior from her. I had already told her years ago that I didn’t want anything—not a wheelchair or anything else—attached to me. I don’t know why she thought she could try something like a diaper on me. Silly humans.

My mom and I have come to an agreement, though. I don’t have to wear a diaper, but I do have blankets and cat beds dedicated to me and me alone. When my mom sits on the couch or in bed, I stay on one of my special blankets right beside her. Supposedly this spares the furniture, but I just think of it as sitting on my very own throne like the royalty that I am. I especially like fleece blankets, so my mom has nearly a dozen of those just for me.

Don’t worry, I oversee my mom as she does all the laundry. She cleans my special blankets and beds just as much as she cleans the towels I’m trained to use in my toilet. The washing machine is almost always running, but again, like my mom says, I’m totally worth it.

While I do like helping my mom do the laundry, I don’t fully approve of another habit she’s acquired since my urinary incontinence developed. You see, every couple of weeks, she tricks me into my carrier and takes me to our vet’s groomer. As a result, these days I constantly rock that baboon sort of hairstyle. You know, the one where my rear end is as bald as an eagle. I’m told that helps keep me clean and dry back there, which I have to admit is actually