Lucille Dumbrava

Koala is curled on the hearth, almost pressed against the glass door. The flickering gas- fed flame plays across the fake logs stacked inside sending out a carefully regulated heat.

She startles, then breaks into a prolonged series of violent sneezes. Slowly, her mouth open in a slight pant, she pushes herself to her feet, then steps slowly down off the bricks. Her legs crumple beneath her and she sinks to the floor. Another attempt to get up and then she is walking hesitantly away, swaying as she stumbles. Her long fur is dull and clumping.

Today, Koala went to the vet's. Dehydrated, he says. Respiratory infection, but that is not the real problem. Her kidneys are failing. A test will show how bad it is, but judging by the rapid onset and her condition, probably end-stage renal failure. We discuss the possible strategies. Should she be subjected to the test to confirm what is obvious? Should she go on IV fluid therapy which will require hospitalization? Should we use the less effective sub-cutaneous fluids which I can administer at home, inserting a needle under the skin on the back of her neck and emptying a bag of fluids into her twice a day?

We decide on the test, as it will help to choose one of the other options, and I take her home to wait for the results. They are as bad - no, even worse - than expected. Her kidneys are almost completely shut down. I make plans to bring her back in the next day to start the IV fluids. The doctor agrees to let me sit with her in a quiet corner while the fluids run. At least she won't be alone and afraid in a strange place.

That night, Koala alternates between sitting on my lap, shifting constantly to find a comfortable position, or pressing herself against the fireplace glass. At one point, she lifts her head and looks at me with such an expression of anguish I begin to cry. I realize, though I've known it down deep all along, that the planning for medical intervention is for me, not Koala.

When Koala was well and strong, there was no catching her. If I needed to do something she didn't want me to do - put her in the carrier for her annual trip to get her vaccinations or give her some medicine the vet had prescribed for one of her few illnesses - it was necessary to trap her. I'd close all the doors in the house except the one leading to the bathroom, and then I'd move behind her until I was able to herd her into that room and I could close the door behind me. This morning, I can go get the carrier, line it with soft towels, put it near my purse at the front door, and still easily scoop her up and put her in the carrier. Her walk has become a slow hesitation step, each paw put down and tested for strength before she moves her weight onto it.

When we get to the vet's office, Koala lays limp in her carrier while Dr. Patrick and I talk. What would you do, I ask, and he tells me of a kitty he tried to save and then realized she hated it and was coming to hate him. The decision is almost an easy one. He gently wraps Koala in a yellow towel, and I hold her as the tranquilizer and then the drugs flow into her body.

Home, I lay in my recliner near the fireplace, trying to lose myself in a book. I have cried myself dry, at least for a while, and I'm turning pages, not really following the story. From the back of the house come Pansy's meows interspersed with a curious "unh" sound she makes when she's upset. She comes into the room and I see she is going to all Koala's spots, and her 'unhs' are getting louder and more frantic. She stands at the fireplace, meowing and making her little grunts.

I pat my lap and Pansy jumps into it and snuggles down, forcing her head under my arm, hiding. And I hold her and my tears wet her fur.

Lucille Dumbrava is a retired Teacher/counselor whose love of cats and love of writing started when she was a child. Many of her stories about the cats in her life have been collected in a book entitled CatHouse, now available from www.bookstandpublishing.com, Amazon, Alibris and local Northern California bookstores. You can also order directly from Lucille. She can be reached at Email

Koala