One rainy night in Sarajevo in 2004, I found a tiny kitten sheltering under my car. When I went to move her I realised she was black and sticky with oil, grit and dirt. The streets were running with stray cats – she was just one of many, condemned to live a short, brutal life outside. I took her home to assess the problem. And that was how I found TCS – googling for the best way to clean this little scrap before she poisoned herself trying to clean the muck off. Following some good advice, I shampooed her, not without some resistance on her part, and got the worst off. Over the next week I repeated the process daily until a pure white kitten emerged from under all the goo. That was how she got her name – 'Persil washes whiter' (Persil actually means 'Parsley' in French).
Green mouse was her favourite toy as a kitten
Over the next few months Persil settled in well to our family as the third cat to Dushka and Ellie. She was the prettiest kitten imaginable, and loved to play 'Fetch ' with her toys. But I soon found she had other problems. At 5 months old, she fell sick, and was diagnosed by our local vet with gastro-enteritis. But 3 weeks later she was getting worse and by Christmas could not eat or drink and was breathing four times the normal rate. I spent Christmas day with her on my lap, trying to get her to take some fluids and fully believing she was about to die. Next day my office advised me to take her to the University clinic, where they Xrayed her and accused me of abusing her as her diaphragm was completely ruptured. They left me with her to say goodbye. Then we were saved by the arrival of the chief surgeon, who told me there was a chance, and next day he performed the necessary operation. Haris soon became the most important man in my life, as he and my friend Vicki tried to save as many stray puppies and kittens as we could, getting many of them rehomed in neighbouring countries like Austria and Germany.
From then on Persil lived a happy life with her two feline companions, and we were soon joined by two brothers, also white, Napoleon and Wellington. All five came with me in 2006 when we moved to France, to our forever home on a hilltop in Normandy.
Sleeping in a tub of her namesake herb, parsley
Persil had a special place in the hearts of all who met her. She was very affectionate with humans and seemed to have a special affinity with anyone who was upset. She seemed to sense a troubled soul and would always choose that person to make up to. It happened a number of times, but she would not tolerate the same behaviour with cats. Any cat who got in her way was severely dealt with – a swipe around the ears put the culprit in its place and she was not above starting a fight if she got wound up enough. She had a wonderful expression when she was upset or angry – it really looked like she was frowning her disapproval. She could be jealous, too. After Biscotte arrived and Wellington immediately took up with the new kitten, Persil continually tried to muscle in. Eventually they became a menage a trois, and could usually be found together. Persil would not put up with Wellington's manly affections, however, and gave him a swipe if he tried anything on, unlike Biscotte who actively flirted with him and encouraged him (all 3 were of course neutered).
Wellington and Persil 'parent' Biscotte
Persil continued to play 'Fetch' – the only cat I have ever had who really enjoyed this game, and always had a selection of mice to be thrown for her. Her other passion was cheese – especially the harder ones like cheddar or Cantal. Every morning she would be at my feet with a meow as I was making my tea, and would stay till I had cut her a tiny piece. She knew she only got one bit, and was happy again till next morning. If I couldn't find her I only had to call 'Cheese' and she was there, running.
That was how I knew she was really ill. She failed to come for her cheese. She had had a urinary infection and a long-standing cough/cold during the winter, but these had seemed to clear up. She was eating and drinking OK till last Friday. She didn't want breakfast on Saturday. Then she went and hid and would not come out. I found her at 9 PM inside the box of my bed, under the mattress, obviously in great distress. A visit to the emergency vet revealed severe anaemia, but not the cause. She was given an iron shot and a calmer, and I took her home, where she slept tucked into my arm. On Sunday morning I gave her some warm milk and broth by syringe and she screamed as it reached her stomach. She had a pee and screamed while she was doing that. So I knew it was time for drastic action. I managed to find a clinic that was open on Sundays where they could do an Xray and rushed her up there, where they found a massive tumour in her stomach. I stroked her head as she went to sleep.
Persil played a massive part in my life for twelve years. A smallish cat of huge personality, who made her presence felt in a large household of cats, and who was a great comforter, she will be terribly missed. Wellington is feeling her loss and looking for her, I miss her morning meows as I automatically open the fridge to bring out the milk for my tea and her piece of cheese.
I am going to put her ashes under a white rose bush by my reading spot in the garden, so she will always be part of me as I go about my daily life.
RIP my most beautiful girl
Green mouse was her favourite toy as a kitten
Over the next few months Persil settled in well to our family as the third cat to Dushka and Ellie. She was the prettiest kitten imaginable, and loved to play 'Fetch ' with her toys. But I soon found she had other problems. At 5 months old, she fell sick, and was diagnosed by our local vet with gastro-enteritis. But 3 weeks later she was getting worse and by Christmas could not eat or drink and was breathing four times the normal rate. I spent Christmas day with her on my lap, trying to get her to take some fluids and fully believing she was about to die. Next day my office advised me to take her to the University clinic, where they Xrayed her and accused me of abusing her as her diaphragm was completely ruptured. They left me with her to say goodbye. Then we were saved by the arrival of the chief surgeon, who told me there was a chance, and next day he performed the necessary operation. Haris soon became the most important man in my life, as he and my friend Vicki tried to save as many stray puppies and kittens as we could, getting many of them rehomed in neighbouring countries like Austria and Germany.
From then on Persil lived a happy life with her two feline companions, and we were soon joined by two brothers, also white, Napoleon and Wellington. All five came with me in 2006 when we moved to France, to our forever home on a hilltop in Normandy.
Sleeping in a tub of her namesake herb, parsley
Persil had a special place in the hearts of all who met her. She was very affectionate with humans and seemed to have a special affinity with anyone who was upset. She seemed to sense a troubled soul and would always choose that person to make up to. It happened a number of times, but she would not tolerate the same behaviour with cats. Any cat who got in her way was severely dealt with – a swipe around the ears put the culprit in its place and she was not above starting a fight if she got wound up enough. She had a wonderful expression when she was upset or angry – it really looked like she was frowning her disapproval. She could be jealous, too. After Biscotte arrived and Wellington immediately took up with the new kitten, Persil continually tried to muscle in. Eventually they became a menage a trois, and could usually be found together. Persil would not put up with Wellington's manly affections, however, and gave him a swipe if he tried anything on, unlike Biscotte who actively flirted with him and encouraged him (all 3 were of course neutered).
Wellington and Persil 'parent' Biscotte
Persil continued to play 'Fetch' – the only cat I have ever had who really enjoyed this game, and always had a selection of mice to be thrown for her. Her other passion was cheese – especially the harder ones like cheddar or Cantal. Every morning she would be at my feet with a meow as I was making my tea, and would stay till I had cut her a tiny piece. She knew she only got one bit, and was happy again till next morning. If I couldn't find her I only had to call 'Cheese' and she was there, running.
That was how I knew she was really ill. She failed to come for her cheese. She had had a urinary infection and a long-standing cough/cold during the winter, but these had seemed to clear up. She was eating and drinking OK till last Friday. She didn't want breakfast on Saturday. Then she went and hid and would not come out. I found her at 9 PM inside the box of my bed, under the mattress, obviously in great distress. A visit to the emergency vet revealed severe anaemia, but not the cause. She was given an iron shot and a calmer, and I took her home, where she slept tucked into my arm. On Sunday morning I gave her some warm milk and broth by syringe and she screamed as it reached her stomach. She had a pee and screamed while she was doing that. So I knew it was time for drastic action. I managed to find a clinic that was open on Sundays where they could do an Xray and rushed her up there, where they found a massive tumour in her stomach. I stroked her head as she went to sleep.
Persil played a massive part in my life for twelve years. A smallish cat of huge personality, who made her presence felt in a large household of cats, and who was a great comforter, she will be terribly missed. Wellington is feeling her loss and looking for her, I miss her morning meows as I automatically open the fridge to bring out the milk for my tea and her piece of cheese.
I am going to put her ashes under a white rose bush by my reading spot in the garden, so she will always be part of me as I go about my daily life.
RIP my most beautiful girl
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