22/02/2024
Fly free, little Cloud
Mar. 16, 2014 - Feb. 22, 2024
A miracle kitten indeed
I started as a little kitten with a blue eye, a green eye, and a big heart with a one in a million d Unfortunately, it is always fatal in animals.
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In May, 2014, my sister Cotton and I were little kittens in the kitten nursery at San Diego Humane Society, where we lived until we would get big enough to be spayed and go home to a new family. The veterinarians who checked us out found that Cotton was healthy, but I had a grade 5 heart murmur, so they sent me for a Doppler ultrasound. They found out I have a cluster of heart defects known as Tetralogy of Fallot. I was pretty frail, and people thought I’d be lucky to live for a month. So I went home with a volunteer as a “hospice adoption” because they thought I deserved a chance to be somebody’s pet before I died. I liked the somebody’s pet part, but I had my own plans, and that whole dying part wasn’t in the picture. When I got to my new home, I had a pair of step-mommies who had been at the same nursery 10 months before I was. Sweet Pea and Punkin are sisters who were Fourth of July orphans. So there was daddy and three of us. We moved, and then we met a feral kitten named Zelda, who decided one cold December night that being a feral kitten wasn’t so much fun, so she asked if she could come live with us. So then there was daddy and four of us. The following December, in 2015, the herd grew again when daddy adopted Turkey, our big baby brother, and he fostered then adopted Anastasia, our once sickly little Russian blue who thinks she’s a princess. She may be a princess, but I’m the Empress. A month later, daddy the cat magnet found a lone kitten in a Home Depot parking lot, so the herd grew to seven, with a little sickly calico named Marie joining us. Despite my frail start and condition, I grew up and thrived with love, two step-mommies to teach me big cat things, and a goofy brother and three sisters. Most dogs and cats with my condition don’t live long enough to be diagnosed. Of the ones who do, more than 90% die in the first year, and it’s very very rare for those of us in the “hole in our heart” club to live past three year. I just passed three years and nine months last week, and I’m still going strong, keeping daddy warm at night.