Wilson was a wonderful cat that everyone loved. A cat on this earth for not nearly long enough. But, as much as we loved him, and as much as he loved us, he had a very difficult life. Despite this, he was warm, loving, affectionate, loyal, and intensely intelligent.
We know next to nothing about his first year and a half or so. He was obviously in a home and not feral, but we don't know what that home was like. We don't know why his family chose to give him to the shelter, or if he ran away. All we know is that he arrived at the shelter about 3 weeks before we adopted him on March 1, 2003. The vets estimated his age at 1.5 years.
The shelter neutered him, fixed a hernia, vaccinated and wormed him, and gave him Advantage. All in the first few days (maybe even all in one day). It was a lot for his system to take.
We had only lived in Petaluma a few months and we were catless. Our beloved Medea had passed away (of old age) in October, while we were in escrow for this house. We decided to get two cats and we fell in love with Chaka right away. She had been there the longest of any cat. In another room, there was Wilson. He popped into our laps right away and was so amazing we knew he was the one. But we hesitated. Maybe we should get a cat no one else wanted. Wilson had only been free for adoption for a few days (the newest adoptee) and we knew he'd get snapped up immediately. Chaka was a wonderful cat that no one wanted because she had long black hair. But we realized that Wilson was meant for us, so we took him.
We took Chaka home right away but had to wait another 3 days to get Wilson because he needed his tracking chip inserted. Chaka was just settling in at our house and wasn't happy about finding out she wasn't going to be an only child. But she adapted. Wilson fell for her right away. After about a week, she let him snuggle with her. After another week, they were fast friends.
Shortly after bringing him home, I wrote: "[At the shelter] he lived in the room with the sun porch and was the kitty who sat near the door ready to greet everyone who walked through. We've since learned that his affection for strangers was more of an insecurity. He's independent and not clingy but he does follow us around the house just making sure we're okay. He likes to snuggle up with us at night. He also likes to annoy his sister. We think he has a bit of a crush as he looks at her with adoring eyes and doesn't understand why she growls when he comes near. They get along more or less okay though and can be within a couple feet of each and sleep on same bed with us at night. We need a bigger bed!"
Later, I added: "After 6 weeks they are a loving pair of siblings. We've just started letting them outside and they kiss and go off exploring together. On Wilson's first day out he stayed outside for 5 hours! nearly giving his mom a heart attack. But he realized quickly that parents need reassurance too. About once an hour he came inside for a few minutes and made sure we saw he was there and okay, then zipped out again.
"Wilson is a bit of a maniac, though a very sweet and surprisingly well behaved one. He seems to have panic attacks and needs to run around and clear his head. The vet said it was testosterone that hadn't quite left his system (he was fixed only 2 weeks before we adopted him) but we think there's more to it. His energy (chi) isn't settled and pulled together. He's getting better but it will take time. We have to keep him moving during the day so he'll sleep at night. He and his sister both sleep on our bed all night, every night."
Our holistic vet said Wilson got too many treatments in too short a time and she prescribed some homeopathics that helped a lot. We also gave him Rescue Remedy (we'd just ask if he wanted some and he'd come over with his mouth open for the drops...he knew when he needed it). We worked a lot on his behavior too. He was an attack first, ask questions later kind of guy. But, with lots of love and support, he reduced that by about 90%. We suspect this behavior may have been why he was given away.
One example of this manic behavior was his climbing and getting into things. In our hallway is a pull-down door to the attic with a set of stairs that fold out. You have to yank on the handle to get it down and it's not easy. One day I was on the computer and I heard a strange noise. I ran out to find the attic door open and Wilson sitting in the attic, looking down at me. We haven't a clue how he managed it. There's a closet next to it but he would have had to have climbed the door. What's remarkable is that he never panicked. He didn't run away or complain.
Many cats bring presents home to their humans and Wilson was no exception. We'd find the occasional bird or lizard but usually what he brought us was plant offerings. He'd pull up plants from the garden with his teeth and trot inside with them, dirt and all. Somehow, he managed to only pull up weeds.
As time passed, Wilson became more and more besotted with Chaka, and her with him. She made friends with another male cat (a feral tom) and sometimes stayed out till all hours with him. But Wilson's entire world was Chaka. He loved us and he was friendly with visiting humans, but it was Chaka that he adored.
He came home every night except one. We were worried sick but, finally, about 4 am, I went to open the back door, and there he was. Limping. I noticed he had a fight injury that looked pretty bad, so I called the Vet ER to get directions and Michael and I got dressed. In that 5 minutes, Wilson disappeared. To this day, we don't know where he hid. The house was filled with moving boxes and we spent the next day moving every single one of them. We checked the fireplace, under all the furniture, in every box. Our best guess was the heating vent (the covers were still off because we had refinished the floors). We thought he was lost for good. That he had crawled off to die, but that didn't make sense since we still should have found him. We finally went to bed that night and, about 5 in the morning, we heard a scratch on the door. And there he was. Ready for us to help him. We took him to the vet but he managed to heal up without help.
Chaka, on the other hand, was not as good about coming in at night. She stayed out later and later. And one night, a couple days before Halloween 2004, she didn't come home at all. We searched and searched. Finally, the next evening, Michael found her body on the side of the road, up the street. She had been hit by a car.
We brought her home and Wilson knew right away. Cats often don't recognize dead cats, or don't know what to make of them. But Wilson knew. He tried to jump in the box with her. He spent hours on her grave. He was utterly and completely lost.
We were devastated too. We loved Chaka, even though we only had her for 8 months. But for Wilson, it was like his world had ended. Ever since then, he was never the same again. He became depressed and angry and unsettled. Nothing we did could pull him out of it. We used homeopathics and they helped, but not enough. We tried to adopt another cat, Molly, a black stray that we were feeding. She was friendly but wasn't in to Wilson (he really did try with her) and didn't like when we tried to keep her inside.
A few days after Chaka died, I looked out the window and saw two little kittens, one black like her, one gray and white like Wilson, playing on her grave. I knew I had to have them. I learned there was another pair, both gray, and some others too. It took a few weeks but I captured 5 out of 7 kittens (all but the 2 black ones, who both died over the winter from unknown causes). This was therapy for me and it was important. But it wasn't good for Wilson at all. He felt displaced and overwhelmed.
After a while, we started letting the kittens out of the kitchen and then they started sleeping with us. Wilson was fine when it was just Skylar (the gray and white one I saw that day) but upset to have to deal with all of them. The kittens worshipped him and we kept telling him to take advantage of it, but he never did. Eventually, the kittens grew up and got over him.
Winter 2004/5, Wilson became sick. He stopped peeing, which is a life-threatening emergency in male cats. He had to spend several days in the hospital with catheters to unblock his urethra. This was the first time we had been apart. Wilson had abandonment issues like crazy. Not that we blame him. After all, he was abandoned by his first family. We didn't know how he would take it. He did well at the hospital (as usual, everyone fell in love with him) but the real question was how would he think of us.
He was ecstatic to see us. And to come home. That eased his abandonment issues a lot. He knew we would always come back for him. And we always did. We promised him that no matter what, we would never leave him. And we kept that promise.
Unfortunately, the blockage didn't really get better. He spent the next year with mild blockages on and off and in lots of pain. He growled a lot and was clearly miserable. We used all sorts of regular medications and alternative treatments and nothing stopped the episodes, though we were able to mostly control them.
When we let the kittens go out and decide if they wanted to stay with us or not, it was Spring 2005. Of the 5 kittens, 3 continued to live with us and sleep with us most or all nights (Hope, one of the gray ones mentioned above, Skylar--who stayed mostly out for months then became a homebody, and Opal a gray kitten (not one of the 2 pairs) who disappeared Feb 12, 2005). The other 2 still hang out but rarely come in (Tyler, a gray male (also not one of the 2 pairs), and Faith (Hope's litter mate)). We gained a new cat, Etta, a black female stray who begged us to adopt her.
I got pregnant in June 2004. We worried how Wilson would do. He was so jealous of the other kittens; would he be jealous of a baby too? Already, he was dealing with the situation by spending very little time at home. He was out until very late (sometimes midnight) and insisted on leaving the house first thing in the morning. At least he did come home at night, but it was a struggle. We dealt with this by keeping him in longer. Surprisingly, it worked. Instead of Michael letting him out at 6 am or so, he let the other cats out and Wilson slept with me until I got up a couple hours later. We also called him home earlier. He started arriving around sunset. He would be in a snit if we didn't call him before dark though, even though he usually needed to be called several times.
Wilson's medical problems got worse. In December 2005, he completely blocked up again. He had some mild kidney damage at this point and the potential for a lot more. He spent about a week in the hospital and each time they removed the catheter, he blocked again. We had no choice: he had to have the surgery. This is an extreme surgery that involves removing part of the penis in order to create a bigger opening for the urine. Cats have very tiny urethras and they can block very easily. The surgery does not cure the underlying disease at all, but it makes it unlikely to be life-threatening. We didn't realize the surgeon was going to remove the entire penis and his scrotum too, but Wilson didn't seem to notice.
One of our favorite stories about Wilson is when the hospital called us. Curiously, for such a temperamental cat, Wilson had always accepted medical treatments easily, as if he knew they were making him better. He was gentle and affectionate with the hospital technicians, and they all adored him. The day before Wilson was supposed to come home, we got a phone call..."Wilson's ready to go home now." Apparently, one of the techs had given him a bowl of food (he was in a raised cage) and he flipped it and got it all over her. "Poor thing," she thought. "He accidentally knocked over his food." So she gave him another bowlful. And he did it again.
After he came home, Wilson was a changed cat. He wasn't in constant pain anymore and he was much friendlier. We hoped this would signal a lasting change, but it didn't. He did have bouts of inflammation and bloody urine and straining, but even in-between those bouts, he wasn't a very happy cat. He was sweet when around us (he still lashed out when he didn't like something) but he was clearly unhappy.
He started spending his days across the street at our neighbors' house. He played with their 5 year old daughter, ate their food, opened their cabinets in order to rip apart 1 lb bags of catnip, climbed through their cat door to sleep on their coffee table, and dug up their garden. They loved him. We were worried about him being there because our street has a lot of fast cars, but we were heartened to see Wilson always look both ways before crossing the street.
By the time Miriam was born, we had a new cat, Casper, one of the latest batches of feral kittens who decided she needed to be a housecat. And Opal disappeared (we never found out what happened to her). We expected to have a home birth but never got the chance, as I developed a high risk condition. When Miriam came home, she was 2 days old. We had no idea how Wilson would treat her. But when we went to bed that night, we lay her down in the middle of the bed (in his spot) and he immediately went over to her, lay his head on her side, and slept like that all night!
The other cats are still warming to her (she's not the best at petting gently) but Wilson loved her from the beginning. He was always cuddled up with her. They took naps together. He slept curled up against her nearly every night.
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Miriam adored him right back, even when he'd lash out at her for petting him wrong. Miriam learned the other cats names pretty early on, but did always have trouble saying "Wilson." She could pick him out when asked though. Recently, we've been singing the ABC's with Miriam, using a wooden alphabet board. At the end, she'd always point to the "W." "Yes," I'd tell her, "that's 'W' for 'Wilson.'" I can't sing the ABC's anymore...I end up crying. One of Miriam's favorite activities was to go out in the evening with Michael to call her big brother.
A few months ago, Wilson expanded his cross the street daytime family to one next door to the first. It was a bit further to go and a bit scarier for us. Everyone who knew him loved him and welcomed his presence. We were concerned also that he'd leave us. That does happen with cats. But he always came home at night (well, he'd stay out maybe once every 1-2 months). He enjoyed the other families but we were his home. We were his family. He slept with us. He'd hiss at the other cats, get first pick for food and water, and get first choice of sleeping spots on the bed (usually curled up at Miriam's feet). Things had been calming down lately and Wilson would often come home during the day for food and affection.
Then Thursday morning, May 11, 2006, the unthinkable happened. Michael let Wilson out into full sunlight at 6:50 am. We don't know what happened after that. He was on our side of the street, halfway between us and a neighbor where he spends his days. He was either on his way there or on his way back. There are no sidewalks or shoulders here and the road is narrow. At 7:40 am, the neighbor across the street found his body. She knocked but I didn't hear her. Another neighbor moved him to the edge of our driveway. I went outside with Miriam around 10:30 and saw him. There is no good way to find out news like this, but this was one of the worst ways I could imagine.
I called Michael and told him to come right home, which he did. We knew we had to bury Wilson next to Chaka. But we had been poor caretakers and it took us an hour to cut through blackberries and weeds to find her grave, which we had marked with rocks. He is with the love of his life now. And we hope he is finally happy. We know he loved us dearly--and that we loved him--but we know he was unhappy for much of his life.
I couldn't really sense Wilson's spirit after finding him (it was definitely no longer in his body) but Michael could. He seemed to be saying "what's taking you so long?" Impatient as always, he was ready to be off doing the next thing. Not that he wanted to leave us, but that he was eager to move on. As soon as we buried his body and covered his grave with dirt, he was gone. I've felt him some since then, but only moments where he snuggles up to me. Mostly, I'm left only with memories.
