A Tribute to Determination
by Jeanne Megel aka sharkmom

Eight years ago I told my daughter that she had to start learning to give back to her community.  She was to choose a volunteer job – whether she wanted to or not – because we had always felt that it was important to show gratitude for the gifts life gives.  She chose working at the Humane Society.  The glitch was, since she was only 14, she had to have an adult work with her.  That, of course, ended up being me.

One day a very pregnant cat with the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen came into the shelter.  She was ready to deliver any day.  The policy of the shelter was to abort pregnancies because they didn't have room for raising litters for the required eight weeks until they could adopt out the babes.

We begged the manager of the shelter to let us take "Cheetah" home with us so she could have her babies and we would then raise them until they could be adopted out. Suddenly we were foster parents.

The very next morning we went down to check our hastily prepared nursery.  There was the sound of tiny "meows."  Cheetah laid back contentedly and nursed the five adorable offspring she had birthed during the night.  We called them Catillac, Catatonic, Catapult, Catamaran and Catmandu.  They thrived and grew quickly.

When the babes were two weeks old, Katie and I were working with the cats at the shelter when an animal officer came in with a shoe box. "What's in the box?" we asked.  They ignored us and went on talking with the staff about how "it" was too young to live so they might as well just get it over with.  "What's in the box?"  we asked this time in a more demanding tone.

"It" was a kitten about two days old that had been left on a hot windowsill to die.  They had no one to feed it every two hours and it was week with dehydration.  We just couldn't let it go without a fight.  We asked what would happen if we tried sneaking it in with Cheetah's litter, even if they were a lot bigger.  We were told that it rarely worked with that size difference, but we could try.  They said to rub the baby with the older kittens to help pick up their scent.  If Cheetah tried to nurse or clean it, she was probably going to accept it as her own – but it was highly doubtful.

We took the tiny baby home and dubbed her "Cataclysm," since she was having such a terrible day.  We sent Cheetah out of the nursery for a walk and rubbed "Catty" against all of the other little ones.  We put them in a pile around her and let Cheetah back into the nursery.  She went to the litter and pushed them around with her nose.   We held our breaths.  She gave the new one an odd look and laid down to nurse. We tried to get Catty to take one of the nipples, but she was too weak. We worked for 20 minutes with no results.  We finally closed the nursery door and hoped for the best.

Two hours later we went down to check.  Before we got to the door we could hear the loud squalling of five angry kittens.  When we opened the door we saw five big babies piled in a corner of the nursery.  In the middle of the area was Cheetah, quietly licking the tiny babe who was greedily slurping!

When the babies were eight weeks old, we were ready to adopt them out.  

Life has little ironies.  I wouldn't take them back to the shelter so they wouldn't be exposed to any incoming viruses from strays that had been picked up.  When we found someone who was looking for a kitten, we would show them pictures of the litter.  We never told them any of the names we had given them.  Catapult, who had already sprained his tiny ankle from jumping off a shelf, was chosen from the pictures by a gymnast.  Catatonic was picked for a young man with a back injury who spent most of his time in bed.  Catmandu was selected by a mountain climber.  We couldn't get over the coincidences of the names and the new owners.

But we couldn't let Cataclysm go.  I wrote her story for the volunteer newsletter because we felt her will to survive was something of a miracle.  Instead, it was published in the monthly fundraising letter.  The shelter made $90,000 that year by direct mail.  Catty's story raised $50,000 of that amount!!!

We've now had her for eight years.  She is a clown with four legs and fur.  She makes me laugh on a daily basis, whether it's the way she invents games to play or trying to keep her from catching the little lizards that come into our house.  She rides draped around my neck and "helps" me put on my make-up.  Then she steals the brushes and hides them.

On the days I feel the worst, she is like Velcro.  She sticks to me in bed and walks close to me when I get up.  She gives me gentle kisses on the face and does her best to let me know she cares about me.  She has saved me from many dark moments.  I owe her a debt of gratitude for always reminding me that life may be a struggle but determination will win out.  She's a friend and inspiration.

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