Pumpkin was Daddy's girl. She was a dedicated lap cat - whenever I sat down, she would come over and crash on my lap. She loved it when I scratched the sides of her face. Some of the special things about her were her extremely long tale, her incorrigible personality, her love of tuna cat food - specific to one type (originally made by Alpo, then picked up by 9Lives), and her intense desire to go outside several times a day to mark her territory, hunt chipmunks and other small prey, and then stay immediately around the house. If we did not let her go out, she would sink her front claws into the wood trim around the door nearest to the human occupants. She brought her first kill to Diane on Mother's Day, 1997. It was a chipmunk.
She came to us on Halloween, 1996. Diane saw an orange and white striped tail dart under our car, and thought Spanky or Cinnamon had gotten out when we were handing out candy. She called her over by saying, "Come back here kitty!" and Pumpkin came right to her. Diane picked her up and figured it was our neighbor's cat, Muffin. But it was not. Pumpkin was named thus because it was Halloween when we first came into contact with her, or I would probably have called her Ginger. We put her in the garage for the evening and fed her. She was totally freaked out by the neighborhood kids. We started bringing her in at night into the garage, as she started hanging out looking for food, and she brought her pal G.G. along as well. On Thanksgiving, when we let her out for the day, Diane and her Mother (Joan) watched Pumpkin walk up the street, constantly checking to see if they were going to call her back. It broke our heart. I had been against bringing her in - we already had three cats. That week, she became a permanent Beckwith cat. Of course, she took to me more than Diane. Isn't that the way it usually works? I had the same experience later with Snowy - I brought her in, but she takes more to Diane.
We found out later that she had been owned by an old couple in the older section of our plan. In late August or early September of 1996, the husband died. The children put their mother into a home and abandoned the house (removed the utilities and all) and tossed out the cat. She was living in the new houses as they were being built with Grey Guy (G.G.). She always ran from men carrying tools - the Maronda Homes sub-contractors obviously did not treat stray cats well. She was probably four when we took her in (we originally thought she was between two and four, but earlier this year her eyes started clouding slightly and our vet said that was typical at about ten to twelve years of age).
On August 2, 2002, she got into a terrible fight with a stray cat. We took her immediately to the vet - she had a three inch gash in her chest (just ripped the outer layer of skin, but it required six stitches) and several puncture wounds. She has always been vaccinated for all of the standard diseases - distemper, rabies, etc. We also had her vaccinated against Feline Leukemia Virus (FeLV). She got her boosters as required, so we thought she was safe. Her puncture wounds did not heal very quickly, so she went back to the vet two additional times. On the third visit, they ran some blood tests. It turns out that she had contracted FeLV. She put up a valiant fight, and we gave her every opportunity to recover, including tube feedings and subcutaneous fluid treatment when the FeLV attacked her digestive system. She was hanging in there, but was extremely anemic. On Sunday, September 1 she developed serious diarrhea, which meant that the tube feedings were no longer going to sustain her strength. She was already down to under 8 pounds from over 11, and we would not put her through the agony of wasting away. Diane and I stayed with her while she was put under general anesthesia, and I stayed with her through the end. It was unquestionably the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. If you are reading this, then you are definitely an animal person. Be aware that the vaccinations are not 100% effective, and seriously consider not letting your animals outside if you get as attached as I do. I can accept animals dying from medical problems associated with old age. That is life. But my Pumpkin would still be with us if we had never let her out. That is the cross I have to bear. It is true that she would never have been happy as an indoor only cat, so that helps a little.
She is with Diane's mom (and Spanky) now. Pumpkin was always special to Joan, and she was instrumental in our taking Pumpkin in permanently. They both will never be forgotten and always loved. Rest easy, my little one.
She is buried in Rosedale Pet Cemetery in Penn Hills, PA. It is operated by the Animal Rescue League of Western Pennsylvania. Spanky has now been buried next to her, so she will never be alone. |
