Annoushka

2013 - 2022

Annoushka of the Ridgewood Clowder of Staten Island 2014-2022
In 2014 we were fostering with Staten Island Hope. We had agreed to take a 12 year old cat from 'death row' and we went to pick her up in Staten Island from Michele, who was the then president of Staten Island Hope.
When we got there Michelle got out of her car. 'Er, I have a foster for the other one-but no one wants these and I don't want to put them back-they are babies. Oh, I guess I should mention-they're slightly feral.'
The old 'bait and switch', of course. We were the perfect people to take half feral, barely touchable five month old kittens that looked like a panther and some sort of ocelot cross.
We named them Catsputin and Annoushka. They came with nothing but attitude and a dubious legacy of being found by the Staten Island Zoo.
They also had colds and needed medicine. Such fun!
My husband wound up on antibiotics for a week when Annoushka latched onto his hand with her teeth, and wouldn't let go.
Slightly Feral.
But they adjusted-sort of. They joined the clowder, and slowly began to fit in.
I have few pictures of Annoushka. A big cat, she was jet black with the most expressive eyes and meow. She was independent but with time, oh she mellowed.
She had a sense of humor. She hid other cats toys. She once came sauntering into the office here when I opened the door, walked past me and onto the passage to the catio where she picked up a small soft toy and carried it back inside with her, as if she'd been looking for it.
But in the past two years, at age eight, something began to change. Despite vet visits, Noushie, who we didn't bring to the vet often because she remained her 'slightly feral' self. Getting her to the vet meant trauma to her-but she did go, in the past months four times because she had lost so much weight. She was treated for worms, she had a dental some months before. She developed a sore on her back that wouldn't heal. Two vet visits to address it and an appointment scheduled with another vet for Tuesday.
Last night she was ravenous-another strange thing going on-hungry all the time but fussy. I bought her favorite food-chicken and raw hamburger which I heated in the microwave to kill bacteria. She ate most of it all day but would rest, be restless and want more. She got it.
Last night when my husband was working, I was in the back feeding Batman, who'd come in because it was cold. I heard a terrible sound, scrabbling. A cat had gotten up over our kitchen cabinets and it sounded like they had lost their balance. I heard the crashing fall. I ran into the kitchen to find Annoushka, legs splayed out behind her.
It seemed she had fallen.
I called my husband, hysterical. He came. It took him an hour. In the space of an hour I called a vet friend of mine and my friend Oksana K. Singh who has so much cat knowledge. I was able to watch Noush- (my vet friend told me if touching her bought fear, to leave her be.) But she crawled, terribly, strongly, as the strong cat she was, dragging herself around the house, meowing pitiously. I got a blanket and put it over her. She was cold. She had evacuated her bladder when she fell, her back legs were not working and she'd vomited.
As you can imagine, self blame is terrible when you have cats. Why did I not run in immediately, why did Batman have to eat....
My husband got home. I wraapped her in a blacket, put her in a carrier. Her back was cold, her tail was icy as were her paws.
We got her to the ER vet in Penscola-it took an hour.
They took her right in. We waited and they came to us.
They couldn't have been nicer.
Annoushka had not-the slightly feral, graceful and agile half jungle cat-she had not fallen accidentally.
The vet believed she had deep saddle thrombosis, it probably happened and she was either trying to escape it in the jump, or it happened as she did.
There was no hope. She was cold, she had no muscle tone in her back end at all.
We held her. We kissed her head. She was drugged, heavily because what she had was painful.
We let her go, holding her and whispering 'thank you' and 'you are loved'.
My heart is shattered.
I watch Catsputin this morning as he comes onto the bed for petting-his safe space.
They had stayed with her last night, clustering around her, around me.
My husband told me afterward on the way to the vet that he saw a flash of light, a triangle shaped light come into the car, going into the carrier. She was not alone. I believe Ruffy was there. On the way home, as I closed my eyes, I had a flash:
A black cat standing in a beautiful meadow, looking over her shoulder.
She looked happy-she was running, but stopped to look back, at me.
I could feel the words, the mischievous gaze so very real.
"Thank you." the unspoken message.
I will miss you, Nourshie, my panther girl, my strong as a bull barge tugging Russian half jungle cat.
I'm so sorry, my love. I'm sorry we couldn't have done more.
But know this.
You were loved. Very loved.
Because you were slightly feral.
May you run and play with all the other furrs who've crossed over this week.
Love your mom and dad, and the Ridgewood Clowder of Bay Minette.