February 5, 2014.
It was cold that winter. The night before February 5th, we got a huge snowfall.
Our dog, Forest, was a little crazed the night of February 4th. He went outside, as usual, and began sniffing and barking at our garbage cans out by the garage. We didn’t think much of it, and probably got a little tiny bit annoyed that he didn’t come right away (I mean, he was an obedience school graduate!), but he finally came into the house.
It snowed some more, and the temperatures dipped very low. It was February in Ohio. Cold, snowy, and nasty out.
The next morning, our large pup went outside as usual and once his business was done, he again began worrying at the garbage cans. Matt and I put on coats and boots and trudged out to the garage. Matt pulled aside one of our large trash cans and we both looked down, expecting to see a raccoon or some other critter underneath.
It was a critter, alright. It was a tiny, shivering, nearly frozen ball of gray furry kitten. We were shocked for a moment or two, and then scooped her up and took her inside.
Once there, we realized she was badly frostbitten. All four paws were frozen, her ears had no hair on the outside, her left eye was ulcerated, and she was coughing and sneezing. She weighed about three pounds. We warmed her up with an old beach towel and drove her to our vet to have her put to sleep.
The doctor looked her over and agreed she was in bad shape. She loaded her up with antibiotic and sent her home with us. I think all four of us (Matt, the vet, me, and the poor little cat) expected her to die that night.
But she didn’t. She lived in the barn with our horse where we made her a warm nest. The two of them became fast friends. Every day when we went up to clean the barn and feed the horse, the cat was there, sitting on the stall with her large pal.
She not only didn’t die, she rallied. She gained weight and began to climb the ladder in and out of the barn window.
We named her Effie, the “F” being short for “Frostbite.” Effie was soon all over our place – climbing trees and ladders, following us into the woods for walks, and kissing our dog hello every morning. We swore she thought she was a dog, sometimes, but then it was Forest who had saved her life.
Her eye never healed, and she bore the frostbite scars on every paw pad. Her nose and sinuses were never quite right, but Effie never complained. She eventually became a house cat, and would find every warm place to sleep – even in the summer. Over registers, next to the furnace, or in a patch of sunlight. She, understandably, always wanted to be warm.
No matter where she was in the house, two things could always summon her. If I sat down to play the piano, she would come into the living room, jump up on the bench, and stay with me – purring – while I hammered out any number of tunes. Weeknights, when the Jeopardy! music came on the television, she would emerge from wherever she had been to sit on my lap and purr while we played along.
Nothing made her happier than a warm blanket or bed, especially if her humans were in it with her. She needed warmth so much that she’d even sit on the edge of the hot tub when we were in it – letting her tail dip into the hot water.
This week, Effie’s damaged body finally gave out. I wish I knew what sad excuse for a person tossed her out on our property that frigid February night. Sometimes I think I’d do something mean if I knew. But then again, as Matt is quick to tell me, I’d first thank them for giving me a wonderful friend, who stayed with us for almost eight years, and loved my awful piano playing.
R.I.P, Effie Marie. We love you.
As usual, I read this with great pleasure – you have a gift for writing things down clearly –
sorry for your loss – understand it better now than ever could have – am I one of the few that read these and comment – or do others just read and move on! Still think your snippets should be published – maybe in book form like a daily devotional!!
love ya Sis!!
John, I’m so glad to see you back! I, too, wonder why others do not leave comments. I think it’s rather selfish of people to enjoy Susie’s Snippets and not leave a comment. At least a thank you! She is truly a gifted writer! I am blessed and look forward to each and every one of them. Wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving!
This story brings tears to my eyes. I too was blessed to have a stray cat come to our patio door on a below zero winter night. I put out food for her until springtime. She was so fearful of human beings. Finally, finally I got her to come inside the house. She learned so quickly. I discovered that she had a big lump on her head from someone who had abused her. That cat would never take a bite from her food dish until she rubbed her head on my foot. She was so thankful. It was a bad time in my life and she definitely became my best friend. She was an outdoor cat so my husband made a little door with a flap on our back door from the garage. She learned quickly how to use it. She loved the outdoors. We only had to go out and whistle for her to come home. One night she went out and never came back. I was so worried about her. It was late on the third night and I told my husband to please go out and whistle one more time.
At midnight she dragged herself to our patio door and quietly meowed. (It makes me cry now.) My husband brought her into the garage. He told me, “You do not want to see her.” She had been attacked by a coyote, but she fought a brave fight. We called the vet’s emergency number and took her in her favorite blanket. On the way I kept telling her, “It will be alright, Muffy. Everything will be alright.” We told the vet, if you don’t think she has a chance of living, please put her to sleep.” She didn’t make it. The next day we went and got our precious Muffy and put her to rest near our garden. A week or so later we received a $300+ vet bill. We called him and said we had told him if you don’t think she will make it to put her to sleep. He said, “You should have never received that bill.
The next morning I went in to see the cat and she was sitting up. She looked at me. There was something in her eyes that said I had to try and save her.” Naturally we paid the bill. Muffy had human-like tendencies. She understood what you told her. She would obey without scolding. We only had her a couple of years, but I am so thankful for every day that we were blessed to have her.