Originally I was going to ask Donna to post this - but it is not right that I don't do it myself. The following will appear in my newspaper column on Sept. 1st.
It was over five years ago that my then fiance called me from work and told me he had found two little balls of white fluff tucked inside a tire on the hospital premises. When he picked them up they began to purr - one little one had crystal blue eyes and the other sported what we call "odd-eyes" one blue and one gold. "What should I do," he asked and my reply was bring them home.
These two babies were our very first rescues. The vet estimated their age at just over ten days since their eyes were open. They couldn't eat on their own, nor could they even eliminate without help, and so my two girls along with myself and Clint became cat mothers. Blue eyed Milo and his brother Dakota had to be bottle fed every four hours, just like babies. My youngest, Allison, immediately claimed Dakota as her own and the feeling was mutual. Eventually Milo would become everyone's cat, very social and happy to meet any stranger who walked through the door. But Dakota was different. He was a loner, aloof and all his affection was saved for his girl.
We taught them how to eat and kept them clean. At first they lived in a plastic tote box and eventually graduated to Allison's bedroom. The two brothers loved each other and hated to be apart. There was never any question that these two kittens were ours. Dakota and Milo had stolen our hearts.
While these two were growing up, we began rescuing cats in earnest - Helping Paws would soon be born because of them. We would spend hours watching them play and grow and turn into cat adults, each with their own distinctive personality. Milo would become our household pet show cat, going on our public access television show, doing pet therapy and going to schools to teach children about cat care. He would be "bid boned and pudgy" while Dakota, lean and rugged, would remain a one-person cat, take over the job of being "boss" cat of our increased cat population and still be completely his own cat. His one true friend was a little black feral cat that lives in our home - Dakota and Zoe were often seen curled up next to each other; this turned out to be a warning of things to come.
We had a really bad scare when Milo and Dakota were about seven months old. They became extremely ill and almost died. Our vets had even suggeted putting them down as it appeared they had a genetic liver condition that would keep them from ever reaching adulthood. We declined to follow our vets advice and told them to treat the symptoms as best they could. Thousands of dollars and months later we had a miracle - two beautiful, healthy adult cats. Everyone was surprised and everyone was extremely pleased and thankful.
Years passed and as our cat family increased, as our rescue organization grew, Milo and Dakota were always heralded as the founders of Helping Paws. These two were total opposites in everything including their acceptance of our cat safe fenced in area. Clint (now my husband) had put in a privacy fence with a special ordered top that was netted in such a way animals could not get out or in, Milo accepted this and was happy to have a whole back yard to sun himself with the others - Dakota always wanted to know what was on the other side.
Five years from when he was found, Dakota started to lose weight and no longer looked healthy. Tests showed irregularities but nothing conclusive. At this time Dakota found a way out of the cat safe fence. Nothing we did could keep him inside - he would actually growl at us if we tried to pick him and bring him back into the house. Dakota was reverting back to his feral heritage and determined to see the world. He took to swimming in our pool during the hot weather and cooling himself off - he would ask to come in once or twice a week to see his girl and take a nap on her bed, just to let her know he still loved her. He continued to lose weight and stopped taking care of himself - we all made the decision to allow Dakota to have what he most wanted - his freedom.
Dakota was killed on the morning of August 24, 2001, by a motorist. It was inevitable that he would want to know what was on the other side of the street. Dakota lived his life to the fullest and although I would have done anything to keep him within the confines of the kitty courtyard, I also know he was dying and that he needed to be free, We have decided to start the Dakota Memorial Fund which will help people who have adopted abandoned and feral cats during times of catasrophy. For now though, my daughter mourns her loss and we join her in grieving for the little white odd eyed kitten who helped start it all.
It was over five years ago that my then fiance called me from work and told me he had found two little balls of white fluff tucked inside a tire on the hospital premises. When he picked them up they began to purr - one little one had crystal blue eyes and the other sported what we call "odd-eyes" one blue and one gold. "What should I do," he asked and my reply was bring them home.
These two babies were our very first rescues. The vet estimated their age at just over ten days since their eyes were open. They couldn't eat on their own, nor could they even eliminate without help, and so my two girls along with myself and Clint became cat mothers. Blue eyed Milo and his brother Dakota had to be bottle fed every four hours, just like babies. My youngest, Allison, immediately claimed Dakota as her own and the feeling was mutual. Eventually Milo would become everyone's cat, very social and happy to meet any stranger who walked through the door. But Dakota was different. He was a loner, aloof and all his affection was saved for his girl.
We taught them how to eat and kept them clean. At first they lived in a plastic tote box and eventually graduated to Allison's bedroom. The two brothers loved each other and hated to be apart. There was never any question that these two kittens were ours. Dakota and Milo had stolen our hearts.
While these two were growing up, we began rescuing cats in earnest - Helping Paws would soon be born because of them. We would spend hours watching them play and grow and turn into cat adults, each with their own distinctive personality. Milo would become our household pet show cat, going on our public access television show, doing pet therapy and going to schools to teach children about cat care. He would be "bid boned and pudgy" while Dakota, lean and rugged, would remain a one-person cat, take over the job of being "boss" cat of our increased cat population and still be completely his own cat. His one true friend was a little black feral cat that lives in our home - Dakota and Zoe were often seen curled up next to each other; this turned out to be a warning of things to come.
We had a really bad scare when Milo and Dakota were about seven months old. They became extremely ill and almost died. Our vets had even suggeted putting them down as it appeared they had a genetic liver condition that would keep them from ever reaching adulthood. We declined to follow our vets advice and told them to treat the symptoms as best they could. Thousands of dollars and months later we had a miracle - two beautiful, healthy adult cats. Everyone was surprised and everyone was extremely pleased and thankful.
Years passed and as our cat family increased, as our rescue organization grew, Milo and Dakota were always heralded as the founders of Helping Paws. These two were total opposites in everything including their acceptance of our cat safe fenced in area. Clint (now my husband) had put in a privacy fence with a special ordered top that was netted in such a way animals could not get out or in, Milo accepted this and was happy to have a whole back yard to sun himself with the others - Dakota always wanted to know what was on the other side.
Five years from when he was found, Dakota started to lose weight and no longer looked healthy. Tests showed irregularities but nothing conclusive. At this time Dakota found a way out of the cat safe fence. Nothing we did could keep him inside - he would actually growl at us if we tried to pick him and bring him back into the house. Dakota was reverting back to his feral heritage and determined to see the world. He took to swimming in our pool during the hot weather and cooling himself off - he would ask to come in once or twice a week to see his girl and take a nap on her bed, just to let her know he still loved her. He continued to lose weight and stopped taking care of himself - we all made the decision to allow Dakota to have what he most wanted - his freedom.
Dakota was killed on the morning of August 24, 2001, by a motorist. It was inevitable that he would want to know what was on the other side of the street. Dakota lived his life to the fullest and although I would have done anything to keep him within the confines of the kitty courtyard, I also know he was dying and that he needed to be free, We have decided to start the Dakota Memorial Fund which will help people who have adopted abandoned and feral cats during times of catasrophy. For now though, my daughter mourns her loss and we join her in grieving for the little white odd eyed kitten who helped start it all.
