We first saw Merna on a Facebook page for a Humane Society not far from here. We went to have a look - "just looking," I said. As we watched people come and select cute little kittens, Merna was in her cage all alone. She was about 5 or 6 years old and had been overlooked for several months. Amy (my daughter) went up to her and declared, "she is a good cat." I don't know how she determined that, since I thought she looked a little ornery and she snapped at me when I tried to pet her. But Amy was confident this was a good cat, and I nervously signed the adoption papers. We then headed to Walmart and bought a carrier, some food, some litter, and a litter box - just the basics to start with. Then went back to pick Merna up and drive the 35 miles home.
Holding the carrier with Merna inside, she must have felt my apprehension. She eyed me carefully, eyed Amy carefully, and settled down to enjoy the car ride. (She loved to ride in the car!)
Once we got home, my nervousness increased. After all, I had never had a pet (other than goldfish) in the house. What in the world have I done?? We let Merna out of the carrier, and she proceeded to wander around the house, investigating her new surroundings. She didn't run and hide, as the lady at the Humane Society said she would. She quickly decided she was "home" and settled in.
The first night as I lay in bed, I was nearly in tears, wondering what in the world had I gotten myself into? A cat? What am I thinking? Sometime in the night I woke up, and there was Merna, sitting on my bed, looking out the window. She must have been enjoying her newfound freedom, roaming around the house. I basically ignored her at first, not sure what she wanted, or I wanted, for that matter. The next day, Merna jumped in my lap, and sat there content as could be for a long time. This was the beginning of a nightly ritual - she would jump up, knead on my arm for a bit and then settle down comfortably. After two weeks, the Humane Society called to inquire how it was going, and would I like to keep her. I told them I would keep her, but still some apprehension crept in. No turning back now!
The grandkids came to visit and Merna took to them immediately. They could do anything to her - things she would not let me do, such as putting hats on her -- layer after layer of doll/cat hats - and Merna would just sit there and enjoy it. Who had Merna before me? Was it a family? Why was she abandoned? We will never know.
Merna would also let me know if someone was at the door - often before the visitor even had a chance to knock. She would know who was coming and greet them; if she didn't know them, she would stand on the stairs until she deemed it was safe to come and mingle. She was my alarm clock - if I wasn't up by 7:30, she would come and tap my shoulder, making sure I would get up. As I got up, she would wait for me to use the bathroom, then lead the way to her empty dish and remind me with a loud meow to fill it up.
This was life with Merna for six years. Then her health started to deteriorate. First, she was losing her hair. The vet couldn't determine any specific reason and gave her an antibiotic, which helped. Then she decided to quit eating. She would go to her bowl, look at it, look at me, and walk away. I tried different foods to no avail. Then one day, I tried yet another food and she began eating again, and she seemed to be on the mend. Later, she started losing her fur again, and again, the vet didn't see any explanation, but gave her some medication. Then the no eating began once again. This time it was affecting her worse, she was throwing up, and had diarrhea. Now around 12 years old, things were not looking good. Another trip to the vet revealed dehydration and kidney failure. She was not going to get better.
It was hard to decide that the time had come to say "good-bye," but the vet assured me that if there was anything that could be done, she would have told me.
It's quiet around here without Merna. She was a good cat, Amy was right.
