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| Name: |
Banjo
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Age: |
Eleven years old
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| Gender: |
Male
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Kind: |
Domestic Medium Hair
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| Home: |
Portland, Maine, USA |
My
husband and I returned to the U.S. a year ago after 24 years in Australia.
For eighteen of those years we had a sweet tiger short hair, who sadly passed away
from hyperthyroidism after a long happy life. When we arrived in Maine we
knew it was time for another cat and considered a kitten as my husband had
never had that pleasure. Most of our time in the beginning as new homeowners
in a new country was spent in the local hardware store. We soon discovered
the store manager sponsored a no-kill animal adoption center's cage with a
homeless cat to greet and tempt the customers. Most were older and our hearts
went out to them. What had their lives been like up until now? Did they come
from loving homes which suddenly vanished? Were they abandoned? Mistreated?
We watched "Harold" and "Jasper" come and go to good homes, and then one
day "Robb" turned up,- silky haired tiger and white, ten years old, only
his four canine teeth, and a scar on his back. When he first saw us walk
up to his cage he let out a plaintive yowl that seemed to say, "What took
you so long???!" We wondered if the yowl was his regular way of
communicating, and what about that scar, was it from a surgery, a fight, a car?
We returned nearly every other day for a couple of weeks as we set up our
house and settled in, still "Robb" was there. Then one day my husband and I
looked at each other and knew we had to make him part of our family. We made
a bee-line to the Animal Refuge League and said we wanted to fill out the
adoption papers and take him home. They told us he was found homeless
wandering the streets in a southern suburb in a cold New England October,
that because he had no teeth but his canines, he could only eat very soft
food, and that their vet had investigated his scar and thought it old scar
tissue. He was neutered so must have had a family at some stage.
We loaded ourselves up with a cat bed, brush, litter and box, toys, and
plenty of indoor cat paté, and brought him home. We renamed "Robb" Banjo,
after the Australian poet Banjo Paterson. He hopped out of the cardboard
carrier, had a quick wash, and made himself right at home. He asked for a
snack then curled up on the living room rug looking curiously back and forth
at each of us. We showed him where we wanted him to use his litter box in the
basement and he agreed, using the cat door at the top of the stairs with no
hesitation. When I attempted to brush him he closed his eyes in bliss as
though he had been missing it for a very long time. Then he hopped down and
gave his new post a long satisfying scratch. There is no question this cat
had spent many years in a good home.
That first night Banjo hopped up on our bed San asked to go under the covers
where he curled up and went straight to sleep. Banjo soon started following
my husband around like a shadow, getting involved in projects around the
house, helping us solve puzzles, enjoying evenings in front of the TV. After
a few months we noticed Banjo's "scar" seemed to be growing with finger-like
swellings under the skin. We took him to the vet and he tested positive for
Fibrosarcoma, a cancer of the connecting tissues. He had surgery to remove
the tumors resulting in a new and much longer jagged scar (8", 20cm) as well as
most of the fur on his back being shaved. The prognosis was clear margins,
but likely the tumors would return in two to nine months. It's now been five months
and Banjo remains cancer-free, and our fingers are crossed. His fur has grown
back and he has forgiven us the discomfort of the surgery and humiliation of
the cone he wore for nearly a month.
We are so grateful he chose us to be his adoptive parents and that we were
able to look after him when he became ill. Yes, that yowl IS a regular
thing, apparently he is quite deaf as well, and doesn't think we can hear
him if he can't hear himself! Sure older pets can have some aging issues,
just like us, but the appreciation they show and companionship is so
satisfying. Those kittens we were contemplating would have been cats by now anyway.
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