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- Dec 25, 2015
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It was a rainy Sunday morning as I start writing this. Normally, Amber and I would still be having cuddle times and coffee together on the couch, enjoying the extra time of a lazy day together. I miss her so much. Almost every morning, she sat on my lap while I had my coffee and read, and then a little more. I hated work days when I had to get up and disturb her but on weekends we could have unlimited lap times.
Amber wasn’t always a lap cat, though, or at least not to me. She grew into it as she got to know my partner and I, though I should have seen it coming. I remember the day I first met her, as I walked my bike up the driveway after work. I spied a little calico cat slinking around the perimeter of the house. When she saw me, she raced right up, tail in the air, and immediately rubbed her face on my legs and ankles. She mew’ed and stood up on her hind legs stretching out to greet me. I knew this must be Amber, the cat next door, who I had heard so much about. I told her as much and I coo’ed over her, giving her lots of scritches on the head, and told her how cute and adorable she was but it made me a little sad (as it so often does) to see a cat outside. I still remember I was wearing black pants and she got fur all over them. I didn’t mind except I thought my first cat, Sidney, might, if she smelled her on me. Already, Amber had left a little imprint on me, and I never knew then how long, and deep, it would last.
Amber as a kitten, photo courtesy of her first family
August 15, 2004, Amber was born at the house next door. I’m told by her original parents that her mom was Tonkinese and she was the product of her mum going outside unspayed and meeting a (presumably orange, I always imagined) tomcat. She had six siblings all of whom were adopted. Except her. I don’t understand why, she was the cutest little thing in the pictures I’ve seen, and I can just imagine her a little bit wild, zooming around having fun, and so so sweet. But I’m so glad. After the rest of the litter left, her parents had her and her mum spayed at the same time. I heard stories from the neighbors that they remember her as a kitten, walking around the neighborhood in her mother’s footsteps. Everyone in the neighborhood knew and loved her.
It wasn’t all sunshine and daisies, though. Something must have happened and no one knows what, but I’m told she came home limping and bleeding from her leg one day. They rushed her to the emergency vet and she eventually recovered. I asked because she had a scar on her leg.a little pink spot where the fur never quite filled in. However, she must have been very smart and very lucky because 10 years after being born, when I moved in next door in 2014, she was still prowling the neighborhood and charming everyone she met, including me that first day.
Amber often visited the neighbors, us, and the people we rented from who lived on the same property. They loved her and were the ones who told me about her. But we had our first cat, Sidney, who originally belonged to them, and Amber did not like other cats. Her parents think that’s why she spent so much time outside, to get away from the other cats in the house. So I would say hi to her and adore her when she came by, occasionally yes giving her a little snack because I thought she was a bit skinny and I felt bad that she roamed outside and worried about her out there with dogs, other cats, raccoons, hawks, owls and vehicles around.
She was Amber, the cat next door. That changed in January 2016.
My first cat, Sidney, had been sick and we said goodbye to her in December 2015 just before Christmas. It was very hard on me. Sidney and I had a very close bond and her death was very difficult for me. She had cancer that we caught only when it metastasized to her lungs. There was so much I didn’t know about cats then, and we didn’t have much extra money to spend but I did what I could and I loved her so deeply. I blamed myself, wishing I had done something sooner, wishing I had known, had enough money to save her, done everything differently, burying myself in guilt. It was awful.
Just before this happened, the neighbors next door had sold their house and moved into a place without good outdoor access. Because Amber was an (mostly) outdoor cat, they didn’t think she could adjust to an indoor only life and decided to leave her behind in her territory. They made their decision with the best intentions. After discussing with us, our other neighbors, and the new homeowners, that we all agreed to co-care and look out for her. It broke my heart to see someone leave a cat behind but I was more than happy to care for her. I might have even adopted her then if it hadn’t been for Sidney still being alive, and Amber disliking other cats. She had met Sidney before, and while Sidney did not seem to care one way or another, Amber hissed and spit and was generally very upset about it.
Within two weeks of saying goodbye to Sidney, the new homeowners next door came to me because Amber didn’t seem well. There was something wrong with her eye, they thought. It was all watery and she was rubbing it a lot, not eating all her food. I went away for one night on New Year’s Eve to get out of the house where I said goodbye to Sidney, see some fresh sights and rest a little. I spent a good portion of the night worrying about Amber and calling to check in on her, wondering if I should have stayed home to look after her.
When we got back, I went to take a look at her eye. It was not good. Her eye was red and crusty, the eyelid swollen, and she looked to be in a lot of pain. On top of that, they did not want her in the main house, so they had the cat door lead into the basement, where it was dark and cold, with only a few blankets, water bowl and kibbles. It broke my heart. It seemed so lonely and not right for a cat like her, or any cat at all. She deserved better.
Right then and there, I decided I had to take care of this cat. I couldn’t not do it. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. It was complicated at first, with so many neighbor co-carers involved, and her original parents still in touch, but I couldn’t wait on any of them. One of the neighbors and I took her to the emergency vet on January 2. I had no idea how she’d cope and though she hated the carrier (and in fact, one time, she took huge bites out of a cardboard carrier the vet gave us trying to escape the box! I’ll never forget it!), she did so well with being handled and examined.
The bad news? She had a corneal ulcer and had to wear a cone, get eye drops, etc. The worst news for Amber? She had to stay indoors full time until it got better. The good news, with care, she would make a full recovery though she always had a scar on her eye.
early days with Amber, already getting cozy inside
I was still so heartbroken over Sidney and I wasn’t ready for another cat. But I knew I’d take good care of her, so I agreed to take her into our home and look after her. We put her in the spare room furnished with lots of cushions, chairs, blankets, a perch, bed, litterbox, food, etc. to help her “adjust” to being indoors. The first day, the poor girl peed on the blankets because I’m not sure she even remembered what a litterbox was. I filled up the litterbox with soil and leaves from outside to make it more like what she was used to and after that, she got the hang of it.
The first nights were just awful. She howled and scratched at the door and banged into it with her coned head in distress, wanting to go outside. We did not sleep well those nights. And I remember saying, “I’m not sure how we’re going to do this.” But we did. For her. Looking back, I can’t imagine how hard and scary it must have been for her to be in pain, in a totally new place, with relatively new people, new smells (possibly Sidney’s lingering smell), no free cat door to go out, and stuck in a cone.
Within a couple of days, we let her out of the adjustment room and the rest of the house. She seemed to like that much better. She never liked closed doors very much. Even closets, years later, she would demand to be let in, would go inspect them and then come out, content that she had seen what was on the other side. She hated the cone and she was a pro at getting herself out of it! I knew she needed it but it made me laugh that she managed to escape the dreaded thing so many times. Other than her difficult nights and escaping her cone, she was a perfect patient.
The first time she sat in Sidney’s bed, I burst out sobbing and couldn’t take it. It was so hard. But I think, even then, though we had a somewhat rough start moving her in and I had my doubts, she started to make her way into my heart. I cannot resist the love of a cat, afterall. She stayed inside for a month, though we occasionally let her out under close supervision to feel the grass and sun, and we began to get to know each other. She began to really endear herself to us. We learned why she hated the cone so much. Because Amber has to head butt EVERYTHING! I’d never seen a cat love to bump her head against stuff so much, including us. We started to leave cardboard boxes out for her to play with. Most cats would go inside the boxes, but Amber head butted them like a bulldozer. It must have been so awful not to be able to with the cone. I still remember she sat on my partner’s lap first and how jealous but glad I was! It took her a little longer to come around to me and sit on my lap for more than 5 minutes but she sat on his for hours. Maybe she knew how I felt and gave me the time I needed. We always thought she was a little too wild, going outside, to be cuddly, but how wrong we were!
From then on, we were responsible for Amber. We fed her, took her to the vet, housed her, started to become attached. I began to heal from Sidney’s loss though as someone adamant about keeping cats indoors, it was very hard for me to let her outside and adjust to having a cat go outside. We opted to do so because she was desperate for it and used to it. I trusted that she would look after herself though I worried about her constantly, everytime that door opened. But she loved it so much. So we did. We partly had less choice in the matter because the neighbors in our adjoining unit (who we house sat for and thus needed access to their space) were sort of co-caring for her a little bit and she would meow at their door to be let out. That was hard for me, but I accepted it. She lost an awful lot of collars back then that I eventually bought tags and collars in bulk. Much of the time, my partner got up earlier than me and fed her breakfast and let her out. If I was the only one home, I often put my foot down and said no, miss, you’re staying inside! Eventually, she’d give up meowing and get over it.
Amber, tail up, outside
That summer, my partner and I came home from swimming in a lake on a Saturday. I always called for her when we got home if she wasn’t around. Usually, she came back. This time, she approached before I called with a strange meow. Excited to see her, I greeted her and patted her head and wondered why she was being a bit odd. I picked her up to bring her inside and my partner gasped, and exclaimed, “what is that? her stomach is bleeding!” Horrified, I turned her over to look – she had a huge slice across her tummy. No wonder she was meowing oddly, asking for help.
I felt awful, wondering how long she had been like that, and why did we let her out, and how could we? But we rushed her to the vet immediately after I made an attempt to bandage it, still wearing my damp clothes with my swimsuit underneath. Waiting was the worst. It was freezing inside and I couldn’t stop shivering but I kept thinking of how awful she must feel, how much pain she was in, if she was going to be okay. In those moments, I remember realizing that I loved her. I told my partner and I think he said something like, ”of course you do.”
They stitched her up and said they think she got in a fight with another cat (which I wouldn’t put past her and there were a couple other cats who passed by from time to time though I’d also seen her growling at raccoons before…oh dear), gave us meds and oh no, another cone and another stay inside…
She did better this time indoors and on Sunday, we decided we needed a soft blue cone instead of the hard plastic one so we made some phone calls and my partner drove to the vet who was open and had them in stock to pick one up. She was at least a lot happier with the soft blue cone, inverted so it was not around her head but still stopped her licking or pulling her stitches. The best part? She could still headbutt everything and everyone! The pain meds spaced her out a bit but she recovered very well and quite fast! And I began to feel even more protective of her now that I knew I loved her.
Over time, she began to spend more and more time indoors with us, and less time out wandering the wild neighborhood. She still went out, but much less frequently than before, and she enjoyed sitting on the ottoman in the living room by us, on my partner’s lap for hours, on my lap, too, and sleeping at my partner’s feet in his “nook.” When she stayed indoors when we left, she always greeted us at the door when we got home. She loved sitting in her window on a pile of cushions and fuzzy blankets, climbing her big tall tree beside the window, in sun spots, watching the birds at my feeder, and sadly to me, occasionally bringing them back to me. Not only did I worry about her outside but I hated the hunting even though I knew it was instinct.
Amber living up the indoor life
One memorable time, I kept smelling something bad in our bedroom but couldn’t work out what it was. When I finally looked under the bed, I found two dead baby rabbits stowed right beneath where I lay my head at night. Oh, Amber. I have no idea how she got them in the house without us noticing. She had lots of adventures and, yes, sometimes got into mischief. We played outside with her string and mouse toy and Da Bird. She destroyed catnip plants in the garden with her interest and affection (ohh she loved her nips!!). She lay and napped on the patio, spread out or curled up, sometimes with us, sometimes on her own. One morning on my way out, I watched her chase a mouse, catch it, release it, and chase it again… I am sure the local wildlife did not appreciate her and it was hard to deal with. Over time though, she wandered less and less, and other neighbors remarked that they didn’t see her very much anymore. She never got into trouble outside again or got hurt from being out there. That didn’t stop her from occasional mischief even so…
One of my funniest memories of her is when work was being done on her room (which was formerly the spare room) and the ceiling tiles were taken out. We had mice in the ceiling and walls we were aware of, and had traps set out for, and Amber continually tried climbing into the ceiling to hunt them. Even when I took away all the stuff that made it easy for her to jump up there, I swear I watched her leap six feet to get into the ceiling. At the time, I completely panicked, worrying she’d get stuck or step in a mouse trap. I climbed up onto a ladder and called her name into the ceiling, desperately shaking Temptations. When I brought a flashlight to look, I found her just sitting in the ceiling, chilling, looking at me as if nothing was wrong. Eventually, I coaxed her out and I replaced the tiles myself to stop that ever happening again. Now, I look back and laugh about it.
I decided to foster a kitten for a little while. Initially, we thought it would only be short term. As in, one weekend, which is why I agreed to it. Then that turned into one week, then two, then three, then more. I should have known better because Amber hated other cats but this kitten really needed a safe place. It wound up being a few months. Amber was not happy though, she growled at the door and hissed at the kitten when I tried introducing them, and even ran away from her once. Part of me thinks she may have been scared of other cats, even this kitten. We kept them separate, and my partner and I slept in separate rooms, each with one cat. Me with the foster, him with Amber, because both of them would cry if left alone with the door closed at night. At times, it was a long couple of months, and I knew we couldn’t keep it up for long. I missed Amber and I felt bad, even though I gave love to this kitten. Amber ate less and lost weight during this time. Finally, the kitten got adopted and Amber had the rule of the house again and was happy once more. She gained her weight right back (and was treated to occasional kitten food to do so- she loved that) and we never ever fostered again. Amber was an only cat kind of girl and that was just fine with us.
Amber and my partner had a very close bond right from the start. She sat on his lap first, afterall, she slept by his feet, cuddled up with him most often at night. He first saw her wound, and he first saw her straining outside to pee or poop one morning. He rushed in while I was still sleeping and I was in action instantly (normally very slow at getting out of bed). We took her in and ran labs, and did tests, and it turned out she was constipated. So began her epic saga of intermittent chronic constipation for years to come. We started her in Miralax and tried to increase her wet food and encourage more water drinking. Aside from her accidents, and near the end, it was the only issue she ever had. She was a lucky cat and we were lucky to have her.
Amber looking lovingly at her dad
In November 2018, we moved from British Columbia to Oregon for my partner’s job, and took her with us. I was so worried about the long ferry ride and drive and how she would cope. She hated her carrier and the car and always meowed very loud to let us know. She was unhappy and unsettled the first couple of hours, but she eventually settled in. When we made brief stops, I let her stretch her legs and sit on my lap, climb on the dashboard and look out the windows. It shocked me when I opened the carrier door, she climbed right and curled up, content. She did so well.
The first night in our new place, we had next to no furniture but had brought her blankets, beds and tree. We brought those in right away so she’d have some pieces of home. Defying the advice of giving a cat a small room to adjust in (like we had done the very first time), we let her have free roam of the house. I put Feliway diffusers in every room. We slept on the floor that night and she slept at our feet. Amber adjusted so well to the new house, better than me, I think. Now, she became a retiree, a full-time indoor only cat as I always wanted. She darted out the front door only once, made it a couple steps before I caught her, and never tried it again or showed any interest in going outside here. She was content and happy inside with us. And our bond deepened and we became even closer than ever in the last three and a half-ish years, spending so much time together.
Settling into our new home, the new couch had a perfect Amber-sized nook!
I was unemployed the first six months and we spent most days together, with me being home so much. It was hard for me. When I felt worthless and discouraged and alone, overwhelmed in a new place with no one I knew besides my partner, she was there, lighting up my life, giving love. She didn’t care if I had a job or not (in fact, I think she loved stay-at-home mom aside from the whole fact that job = money = food and treats, toys and beds), she loved me all the same and we grew even closer during this time. She began to spend hours and hours sitting on my lap if I let her (and I did!) and sometimes followed me around the house.
Despite aging, she often still played like a spry kitten around the house. Her favorite toy was her orange ball and I’d often hear the ball bouncing around as she played with it. The sound (and sight) always made me smile. We had a few bumps in the road, due to her constipation, and a couple of times I thought it might have been the worst. We even had a tentative cancer diagnosis due to her intestines looking “bunched” on xray but an ultrasound put her in the clear, and it was due to constipation and gas. After that, I opted to take her to a cat-only vet and never looked back. They were wonderful and took so much time and care with her. Aside from that, she never had any real health issues until last summer when she was diagnosed with early kidney disease. I knew this was the beginning of the end, something I had dreaded, knowing her age, knowing reality, knowing something would eventually take her from me. I slowly began to accept it over time, and tried so hard to get her eating low phosphorus food but it was a bumpy road and we never quite made it. Last December right before Christmas, she had her next checkup and her kidney disease had progressed to stage 2. We started Subq fluids, Cerenia and I put more effort into the low phosphorus diet. (It still didn’t take at least not for long.) Otherwise, she was very healthy. I was alone at this time because my partner was away. I had been terrified that something awful would happen with her while he was gone, but I was able to do fluids ok on my own. I knew cats could live a long time with kidney disease with proper care and treatment and hoped that would be true for her all while knowing it might not last. I treasured her even more than I already did.
Amber relaxing and being adorable on her tree
The last couple of weeks, she had been eating much less, even spurning her 1-2 tbsp of kibble I gave at night for her to munch on. She smelled different to me. I took her in, hoping for good news but bracing for the worst. Her kidney disease had progressed to stage 4 and she was in renal failure. I was shocked and heartbroken. Antibiotics didn’t help (we hoped it might be an infection) and her urine culture ended up coming back negative. We gave fluids and meds at home daily, but despite our care and effort, at her one-week check up, her numbers were much, much worse. I was expecting it even though she had finally eaten food without coaxing that morning, perking up and following me around the house. It was good to see her like herself again even for a little while. She had been fading, becoming frail, barely eating the last few days and couldn’t go on like that. We made the hardest but best decision for her. She gave us so much love, I couldn’t ask her for more.
The vet came to our home the day after her checkup. We gave her so much love for the last six years, doting on her, giving her so much attention and cuddles, letting her have her way, and we did it again on her final day. We spent the whole day together, cuddling when she wanted, giving her time when she needed, allowing her to eat tuna, temptations, milks, offering catnip though she showed no interest, letting her lick the gravy out of the wet food. When she hid under the bed for a little while, I laid on the floor and read selections of James Herriot’s Cat Stories so she would hear my voice. I hoped it helped. She eventually came out and I read her some more. I told her how much I loved her, more than words can express, more than the whole world. I told her I would always be here, and that we were going to make everything better. She was on my partner’s lap and surrounded by love at the end. She went quickly. I believe she was ready. At the very end, she looked so peaceful. Like a kitten again. I’ve never seen or experienced anything like that before and I was so grateful for it, that she could be home with us at the end, that she was no longer sick. There is comfort in knowing we did everything we could and it wasn’t enough, we gave her everything we could even though we couldn’t save her this time.
Unless she was feeling unwell or in a very deep sleep, she nearly always greeted us at the door. She’d flop over on her side, doing what we called rolly-pollies, seeking attention, meowing sweetly at us to say hello. I lavished her with it. All the time. I missed her whenever I left and always looked forward to seeing her. I miss her so much. The first time walking through our door without her to greet us was heartbreaking. There are so many firsts without Amber now, so many times I’ve missed her already. I work from home and she loved having me around, and it’s going to be so hard now without her there, even in another room, snoozing or snoring away.
I miss her. My heart hurts so much and yet it is full of her love. I know she is at peace. There are Amber paw print impressions on our hearts.
Amber’s favorite color was purple. Then orange, of course. She defied the stereotype of the “crazy calico”. So many people judged her at first sight, didn’t believe me when I told them til they saw it for themselves. She was the absolute sweetest cat, loved people, atten-shuns, cuddles and scratches in the head and chin. She had a very expressive tail and often walked with it up in the air, shaking it when she was happy. I loved her tail shake. She was so plush and soft. Sometimes I just buried my nose in her fur and sniffed it. I loved her pink nose and toes, her soft tummy, her beautiful eyes, every bit of her, and I will love her forever, my best feline friend, Ambie.
Curled up like a heart, she will always be in mine
I'd like to imagine her somewhere like this now. <3
Amber wasn’t always a lap cat, though, or at least not to me. She grew into it as she got to know my partner and I, though I should have seen it coming. I remember the day I first met her, as I walked my bike up the driveway after work. I spied a little calico cat slinking around the perimeter of the house. When she saw me, she raced right up, tail in the air, and immediately rubbed her face on my legs and ankles. She mew’ed and stood up on her hind legs stretching out to greet me. I knew this must be Amber, the cat next door, who I had heard so much about. I told her as much and I coo’ed over her, giving her lots of scritches on the head, and told her how cute and adorable she was but it made me a little sad (as it so often does) to see a cat outside. I still remember I was wearing black pants and she got fur all over them. I didn’t mind except I thought my first cat, Sidney, might, if she smelled her on me. Already, Amber had left a little imprint on me, and I never knew then how long, and deep, it would last.
Amber as a kitten, photo courtesy of her first family
August 15, 2004, Amber was born at the house next door. I’m told by her original parents that her mom was Tonkinese and she was the product of her mum going outside unspayed and meeting a (presumably orange, I always imagined) tomcat. She had six siblings all of whom were adopted. Except her. I don’t understand why, she was the cutest little thing in the pictures I’ve seen, and I can just imagine her a little bit wild, zooming around having fun, and so so sweet. But I’m so glad. After the rest of the litter left, her parents had her and her mum spayed at the same time. I heard stories from the neighbors that they remember her as a kitten, walking around the neighborhood in her mother’s footsteps. Everyone in the neighborhood knew and loved her.
It wasn’t all sunshine and daisies, though. Something must have happened and no one knows what, but I’m told she came home limping and bleeding from her leg one day. They rushed her to the emergency vet and she eventually recovered. I asked because she had a scar on her leg.a little pink spot where the fur never quite filled in. However, she must have been very smart and very lucky because 10 years after being born, when I moved in next door in 2014, she was still prowling the neighborhood and charming everyone she met, including me that first day.
Amber often visited the neighbors, us, and the people we rented from who lived on the same property. They loved her and were the ones who told me about her. But we had our first cat, Sidney, who originally belonged to them, and Amber did not like other cats. Her parents think that’s why she spent so much time outside, to get away from the other cats in the house. So I would say hi to her and adore her when she came by, occasionally yes giving her a little snack because I thought she was a bit skinny and I felt bad that she roamed outside and worried about her out there with dogs, other cats, raccoons, hawks, owls and vehicles around.
She was Amber, the cat next door. That changed in January 2016.
My first cat, Sidney, had been sick and we said goodbye to her in December 2015 just before Christmas. It was very hard on me. Sidney and I had a very close bond and her death was very difficult for me. She had cancer that we caught only when it metastasized to her lungs. There was so much I didn’t know about cats then, and we didn’t have much extra money to spend but I did what I could and I loved her so deeply. I blamed myself, wishing I had done something sooner, wishing I had known, had enough money to save her, done everything differently, burying myself in guilt. It was awful.
Just before this happened, the neighbors next door had sold their house and moved into a place without good outdoor access. Because Amber was an (mostly) outdoor cat, they didn’t think she could adjust to an indoor only life and decided to leave her behind in her territory. They made their decision with the best intentions. After discussing with us, our other neighbors, and the new homeowners, that we all agreed to co-care and look out for her. It broke my heart to see someone leave a cat behind but I was more than happy to care for her. I might have even adopted her then if it hadn’t been for Sidney still being alive, and Amber disliking other cats. She had met Sidney before, and while Sidney did not seem to care one way or another, Amber hissed and spit and was generally very upset about it.
Within two weeks of saying goodbye to Sidney, the new homeowners next door came to me because Amber didn’t seem well. There was something wrong with her eye, they thought. It was all watery and she was rubbing it a lot, not eating all her food. I went away for one night on New Year’s Eve to get out of the house where I said goodbye to Sidney, see some fresh sights and rest a little. I spent a good portion of the night worrying about Amber and calling to check in on her, wondering if I should have stayed home to look after her.
When we got back, I went to take a look at her eye. It was not good. Her eye was red and crusty, the eyelid swollen, and she looked to be in a lot of pain. On top of that, they did not want her in the main house, so they had the cat door lead into the basement, where it was dark and cold, with only a few blankets, water bowl and kibbles. It broke my heart. It seemed so lonely and not right for a cat like her, or any cat at all. She deserved better.
Right then and there, I decided I had to take care of this cat. I couldn’t not do it. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. It was complicated at first, with so many neighbor co-carers involved, and her original parents still in touch, but I couldn’t wait on any of them. One of the neighbors and I took her to the emergency vet on January 2. I had no idea how she’d cope and though she hated the carrier (and in fact, one time, she took huge bites out of a cardboard carrier the vet gave us trying to escape the box! I’ll never forget it!), she did so well with being handled and examined.
The bad news? She had a corneal ulcer and had to wear a cone, get eye drops, etc. The worst news for Amber? She had to stay indoors full time until it got better. The good news, with care, she would make a full recovery though she always had a scar on her eye.
early days with Amber, already getting cozy inside
I was still so heartbroken over Sidney and I wasn’t ready for another cat. But I knew I’d take good care of her, so I agreed to take her into our home and look after her. We put her in the spare room furnished with lots of cushions, chairs, blankets, a perch, bed, litterbox, food, etc. to help her “adjust” to being indoors. The first day, the poor girl peed on the blankets because I’m not sure she even remembered what a litterbox was. I filled up the litterbox with soil and leaves from outside to make it more like what she was used to and after that, she got the hang of it.
The first nights were just awful. She howled and scratched at the door and banged into it with her coned head in distress, wanting to go outside. We did not sleep well those nights. And I remember saying, “I’m not sure how we’re going to do this.” But we did. For her. Looking back, I can’t imagine how hard and scary it must have been for her to be in pain, in a totally new place, with relatively new people, new smells (possibly Sidney’s lingering smell), no free cat door to go out, and stuck in a cone.
Within a couple of days, we let her out of the adjustment room and the rest of the house. She seemed to like that much better. She never liked closed doors very much. Even closets, years later, she would demand to be let in, would go inspect them and then come out, content that she had seen what was on the other side. She hated the cone and she was a pro at getting herself out of it! I knew she needed it but it made me laugh that she managed to escape the dreaded thing so many times. Other than her difficult nights and escaping her cone, she was a perfect patient.
The first time she sat in Sidney’s bed, I burst out sobbing and couldn’t take it. It was so hard. But I think, even then, though we had a somewhat rough start moving her in and I had my doubts, she started to make her way into my heart. I cannot resist the love of a cat, afterall. She stayed inside for a month, though we occasionally let her out under close supervision to feel the grass and sun, and we began to get to know each other. She began to really endear herself to us. We learned why she hated the cone so much. Because Amber has to head butt EVERYTHING! I’d never seen a cat love to bump her head against stuff so much, including us. We started to leave cardboard boxes out for her to play with. Most cats would go inside the boxes, but Amber head butted them like a bulldozer. It must have been so awful not to be able to with the cone. I still remember she sat on my partner’s lap first and how jealous but glad I was! It took her a little longer to come around to me and sit on my lap for more than 5 minutes but she sat on his for hours. Maybe she knew how I felt and gave me the time I needed. We always thought she was a little too wild, going outside, to be cuddly, but how wrong we were!
From then on, we were responsible for Amber. We fed her, took her to the vet, housed her, started to become attached. I began to heal from Sidney’s loss though as someone adamant about keeping cats indoors, it was very hard for me to let her outside and adjust to having a cat go outside. We opted to do so because she was desperate for it and used to it. I trusted that she would look after herself though I worried about her constantly, everytime that door opened. But she loved it so much. So we did. We partly had less choice in the matter because the neighbors in our adjoining unit (who we house sat for and thus needed access to their space) were sort of co-caring for her a little bit and she would meow at their door to be let out. That was hard for me, but I accepted it. She lost an awful lot of collars back then that I eventually bought tags and collars in bulk. Much of the time, my partner got up earlier than me and fed her breakfast and let her out. If I was the only one home, I often put my foot down and said no, miss, you’re staying inside! Eventually, she’d give up meowing and get over it.
Amber, tail up, outside
That summer, my partner and I came home from swimming in a lake on a Saturday. I always called for her when we got home if she wasn’t around. Usually, she came back. This time, she approached before I called with a strange meow. Excited to see her, I greeted her and patted her head and wondered why she was being a bit odd. I picked her up to bring her inside and my partner gasped, and exclaimed, “what is that? her stomach is bleeding!” Horrified, I turned her over to look – she had a huge slice across her tummy. No wonder she was meowing oddly, asking for help.
I felt awful, wondering how long she had been like that, and why did we let her out, and how could we? But we rushed her to the vet immediately after I made an attempt to bandage it, still wearing my damp clothes with my swimsuit underneath. Waiting was the worst. It was freezing inside and I couldn’t stop shivering but I kept thinking of how awful she must feel, how much pain she was in, if she was going to be okay. In those moments, I remember realizing that I loved her. I told my partner and I think he said something like, ”of course you do.”
They stitched her up and said they think she got in a fight with another cat (which I wouldn’t put past her and there were a couple other cats who passed by from time to time though I’d also seen her growling at raccoons before…oh dear), gave us meds and oh no, another cone and another stay inside…
She did better this time indoors and on Sunday, we decided we needed a soft blue cone instead of the hard plastic one so we made some phone calls and my partner drove to the vet who was open and had them in stock to pick one up. She was at least a lot happier with the soft blue cone, inverted so it was not around her head but still stopped her licking or pulling her stitches. The best part? She could still headbutt everything and everyone! The pain meds spaced her out a bit but she recovered very well and quite fast! And I began to feel even more protective of her now that I knew I loved her.
Over time, she began to spend more and more time indoors with us, and less time out wandering the wild neighborhood. She still went out, but much less frequently than before, and she enjoyed sitting on the ottoman in the living room by us, on my partner’s lap for hours, on my lap, too, and sleeping at my partner’s feet in his “nook.” When she stayed indoors when we left, she always greeted us at the door when we got home. She loved sitting in her window on a pile of cushions and fuzzy blankets, climbing her big tall tree beside the window, in sun spots, watching the birds at my feeder, and sadly to me, occasionally bringing them back to me. Not only did I worry about her outside but I hated the hunting even though I knew it was instinct.
Amber living up the indoor life
One memorable time, I kept smelling something bad in our bedroom but couldn’t work out what it was. When I finally looked under the bed, I found two dead baby rabbits stowed right beneath where I lay my head at night. Oh, Amber. I have no idea how she got them in the house without us noticing. She had lots of adventures and, yes, sometimes got into mischief. We played outside with her string and mouse toy and Da Bird. She destroyed catnip plants in the garden with her interest and affection (ohh she loved her nips!!). She lay and napped on the patio, spread out or curled up, sometimes with us, sometimes on her own. One morning on my way out, I watched her chase a mouse, catch it, release it, and chase it again… I am sure the local wildlife did not appreciate her and it was hard to deal with. Over time though, she wandered less and less, and other neighbors remarked that they didn’t see her very much anymore. She never got into trouble outside again or got hurt from being out there. That didn’t stop her from occasional mischief even so…
One of my funniest memories of her is when work was being done on her room (which was formerly the spare room) and the ceiling tiles were taken out. We had mice in the ceiling and walls we were aware of, and had traps set out for, and Amber continually tried climbing into the ceiling to hunt them. Even when I took away all the stuff that made it easy for her to jump up there, I swear I watched her leap six feet to get into the ceiling. At the time, I completely panicked, worrying she’d get stuck or step in a mouse trap. I climbed up onto a ladder and called her name into the ceiling, desperately shaking Temptations. When I brought a flashlight to look, I found her just sitting in the ceiling, chilling, looking at me as if nothing was wrong. Eventually, I coaxed her out and I replaced the tiles myself to stop that ever happening again. Now, I look back and laugh about it.
I decided to foster a kitten for a little while. Initially, we thought it would only be short term. As in, one weekend, which is why I agreed to it. Then that turned into one week, then two, then three, then more. I should have known better because Amber hated other cats but this kitten really needed a safe place. It wound up being a few months. Amber was not happy though, she growled at the door and hissed at the kitten when I tried introducing them, and even ran away from her once. Part of me thinks she may have been scared of other cats, even this kitten. We kept them separate, and my partner and I slept in separate rooms, each with one cat. Me with the foster, him with Amber, because both of them would cry if left alone with the door closed at night. At times, it was a long couple of months, and I knew we couldn’t keep it up for long. I missed Amber and I felt bad, even though I gave love to this kitten. Amber ate less and lost weight during this time. Finally, the kitten got adopted and Amber had the rule of the house again and was happy once more. She gained her weight right back (and was treated to occasional kitten food to do so- she loved that) and we never ever fostered again. Amber was an only cat kind of girl and that was just fine with us.
Amber and my partner had a very close bond right from the start. She sat on his lap first, afterall, she slept by his feet, cuddled up with him most often at night. He first saw her wound, and he first saw her straining outside to pee or poop one morning. He rushed in while I was still sleeping and I was in action instantly (normally very slow at getting out of bed). We took her in and ran labs, and did tests, and it turned out she was constipated. So began her epic saga of intermittent chronic constipation for years to come. We started her in Miralax and tried to increase her wet food and encourage more water drinking. Aside from her accidents, and near the end, it was the only issue she ever had. She was a lucky cat and we were lucky to have her.
Amber looking lovingly at her dad
In November 2018, we moved from British Columbia to Oregon for my partner’s job, and took her with us. I was so worried about the long ferry ride and drive and how she would cope. She hated her carrier and the car and always meowed very loud to let us know. She was unhappy and unsettled the first couple of hours, but she eventually settled in. When we made brief stops, I let her stretch her legs and sit on my lap, climb on the dashboard and look out the windows. It shocked me when I opened the carrier door, she climbed right and curled up, content. She did so well.
The first night in our new place, we had next to no furniture but had brought her blankets, beds and tree. We brought those in right away so she’d have some pieces of home. Defying the advice of giving a cat a small room to adjust in (like we had done the very first time), we let her have free roam of the house. I put Feliway diffusers in every room. We slept on the floor that night and she slept at our feet. Amber adjusted so well to the new house, better than me, I think. Now, she became a retiree, a full-time indoor only cat as I always wanted. She darted out the front door only once, made it a couple steps before I caught her, and never tried it again or showed any interest in going outside here. She was content and happy inside with us. And our bond deepened and we became even closer than ever in the last three and a half-ish years, spending so much time together.
Settling into our new home, the new couch had a perfect Amber-sized nook!
I was unemployed the first six months and we spent most days together, with me being home so much. It was hard for me. When I felt worthless and discouraged and alone, overwhelmed in a new place with no one I knew besides my partner, she was there, lighting up my life, giving love. She didn’t care if I had a job or not (in fact, I think she loved stay-at-home mom aside from the whole fact that job = money = food and treats, toys and beds), she loved me all the same and we grew even closer during this time. She began to spend hours and hours sitting on my lap if I let her (and I did!) and sometimes followed me around the house.
Despite aging, she often still played like a spry kitten around the house. Her favorite toy was her orange ball and I’d often hear the ball bouncing around as she played with it. The sound (and sight) always made me smile. We had a few bumps in the road, due to her constipation, and a couple of times I thought it might have been the worst. We even had a tentative cancer diagnosis due to her intestines looking “bunched” on xray but an ultrasound put her in the clear, and it was due to constipation and gas. After that, I opted to take her to a cat-only vet and never looked back. They were wonderful and took so much time and care with her. Aside from that, she never had any real health issues until last summer when she was diagnosed with early kidney disease. I knew this was the beginning of the end, something I had dreaded, knowing her age, knowing reality, knowing something would eventually take her from me. I slowly began to accept it over time, and tried so hard to get her eating low phosphorus food but it was a bumpy road and we never quite made it. Last December right before Christmas, she had her next checkup and her kidney disease had progressed to stage 2. We started Subq fluids, Cerenia and I put more effort into the low phosphorus diet. (It still didn’t take at least not for long.) Otherwise, she was very healthy. I was alone at this time because my partner was away. I had been terrified that something awful would happen with her while he was gone, but I was able to do fluids ok on my own. I knew cats could live a long time with kidney disease with proper care and treatment and hoped that would be true for her all while knowing it might not last. I treasured her even more than I already did.
Amber relaxing and being adorable on her tree
The last couple of weeks, she had been eating much less, even spurning her 1-2 tbsp of kibble I gave at night for her to munch on. She smelled different to me. I took her in, hoping for good news but bracing for the worst. Her kidney disease had progressed to stage 4 and she was in renal failure. I was shocked and heartbroken. Antibiotics didn’t help (we hoped it might be an infection) and her urine culture ended up coming back negative. We gave fluids and meds at home daily, but despite our care and effort, at her one-week check up, her numbers were much, much worse. I was expecting it even though she had finally eaten food without coaxing that morning, perking up and following me around the house. It was good to see her like herself again even for a little while. She had been fading, becoming frail, barely eating the last few days and couldn’t go on like that. We made the hardest but best decision for her. She gave us so much love, I couldn’t ask her for more.
The vet came to our home the day after her checkup. We gave her so much love for the last six years, doting on her, giving her so much attention and cuddles, letting her have her way, and we did it again on her final day. We spent the whole day together, cuddling when she wanted, giving her time when she needed, allowing her to eat tuna, temptations, milks, offering catnip though she showed no interest, letting her lick the gravy out of the wet food. When she hid under the bed for a little while, I laid on the floor and read selections of James Herriot’s Cat Stories so she would hear my voice. I hoped it helped. She eventually came out and I read her some more. I told her how much I loved her, more than words can express, more than the whole world. I told her I would always be here, and that we were going to make everything better. She was on my partner’s lap and surrounded by love at the end. She went quickly. I believe she was ready. At the very end, she looked so peaceful. Like a kitten again. I’ve never seen or experienced anything like that before and I was so grateful for it, that she could be home with us at the end, that she was no longer sick. There is comfort in knowing we did everything we could and it wasn’t enough, we gave her everything we could even though we couldn’t save her this time.
Unless she was feeling unwell or in a very deep sleep, she nearly always greeted us at the door. She’d flop over on her side, doing what we called rolly-pollies, seeking attention, meowing sweetly at us to say hello. I lavished her with it. All the time. I missed her whenever I left and always looked forward to seeing her. I miss her so much. The first time walking through our door without her to greet us was heartbreaking. There are so many firsts without Amber now, so many times I’ve missed her already. I work from home and she loved having me around, and it’s going to be so hard now without her there, even in another room, snoozing or snoring away.
I miss her. My heart hurts so much and yet it is full of her love. I know she is at peace. There are Amber paw print impressions on our hearts.
Amber’s favorite color was purple. Then orange, of course. She defied the stereotype of the “crazy calico”. So many people judged her at first sight, didn’t believe me when I told them til they saw it for themselves. She was the absolute sweetest cat, loved people, atten-shuns, cuddles and scratches in the head and chin. She had a very expressive tail and often walked with it up in the air, shaking it when she was happy. I loved her tail shake. She was so plush and soft. Sometimes I just buried my nose in her fur and sniffed it. I loved her pink nose and toes, her soft tummy, her beautiful eyes, every bit of her, and I will love her forever, my best feline friend, Ambie.
Curled up like a heart, she will always be in mine
I'd like to imagine her somewhere like this now. <3
