Wima's life journey with us began one evening in 1999 when our son Dan brought a tiny grey kitten home from the pool where he life guarded his junior year in high school. She was to stay only for one night because the owner who had left her behind would be "back the next day" to pick her up. You can guess how that turned out.
As a kitten in 1999 she was quite content to roam our home and stake out her territory, whether asleep in the living room (on the couch of course)...
... or in the kitchen, her little paws making tiny ticks on the vinyl flooring when they were not occupied tearing tufts of yarn out of the carpet.
Wima could also be a little tiger as we captured with this photo on the stairs. "Who me?" she innocently acts as she gnaws on a piece of cording.
That kitten was a nuisance to our older cat Cassie, bugging her to play incessantly. Our daughter Robin, Cassie's champion, would chide Wima with, "You're OK but you are no Cassie". Cassie would try to avoid Wima by gracefully jumping up on the window sill, angling her trajectory parallel along the wall from the floor. Wima tried to follow but had not quite mastered the concept of the angling finesse. She would plunge headfirst, at right angles, into the glass window and bounce back onto the floor. She did learn eventually and then Cassie no longer had an escape from her tormenter. They eventually reached a truce with each other. Even though Wima was the younger, more spry cat she always, always, deferred to Cassie and let Cassie eat first at the food dish. When we took them together for a vet visit. Wima would cower under and behind Cassie as if asking to be protected. This is Cassie in 1999 when Wima joined our household. Cassie passed away in 2008 and Wima was free to totally rule the roost.
Wima had always been very vocal. After a few weeks with us, she would yowl incessantly in a high toned, persistent pitch. We learned she was in heat. The internet advised we could relieve her cravings/desires with a Q-tip strategically inserted. No way. We told Dan she was his cat but no way was he stepping up to the plate either to do the job! We had her spayed and the piercing, mournful caterwauling ceased. It was a similar yowling at the beginning days of her stay with us that earned her her name. I have told this story in an earlier post February 20, 2017 but I will repeat an abbreviated version here.
Dan had originally named her Magellan because the white markings on her underbelly took the shape of the Strait of Magellan, the path taken from the Atlantic to Pacific Ocean at the tip of South America. Her vocalizations earned her a less cultured and erudite, but far more apropos, moniker.
Shortly after her arrival, we had left the tiny kitten in his room to bond with our son's pheromones in his absence, but she was miserable at being left alone and would howl pitifully, "Woe is me... Woe is me...". When she got no response she would boldly and angrily add a punctuated screech at the end that we interpreted as "A**hole!" Hence the acronym WIMA became her nickname and Magellan sort of fell by the wayside. A vet once asked if her name came from the chorus of the song The Lion Sleeps Tonight (Wimoweh) recorded in 1961 by the Tokens. Although untrue and unrelated, it is a fun song about a lion sleeping which can be viewed on this 2013 You Tube link and it does make me think of Wima. It could have been her title song.
Needless to say Wima's owners never came for her and she grew to adolescence and then adulthood in Frank's and my care. Dan had left for college in fall of 2001. He learned that ironically he was allergic to cats. Here is an adult Wima in 2002 asleep on our bed – her territory expanding since apparently the couch was not enough.
Ever playful, also in 2002, she would bury herself inside the quilts as well as on them.
Another amusing sleeping location was on the window seat cushion in the master bedroom. What was unique about this spot is that when I sewed the seat covers, I used a fabric printed with heavy ropes and tassels. Wima always slept smack dab in the center of one of the tassels. Did she maybe think she was camouflaged? She also took to sleeping under our bed or in one of our closets. One never knew when she had seized the opportunity to slip surreptitiously into the closet, even if ajar for only moments to remove or hang up an article of clothing. We learned to always leave at least one sliding door blocked open with a shoe on the floor so she did not get trapped within. Hinged closet doors had a towel tossed across the top so they did not close completely. Otherwise there would be massive scratching and a persistent demand to be freed at the most inconvenient of times.
When our son got married in 2011 his bride had a geriatric cat named Cammy. Guess where she came to live out her finals days. Yup. With us. Cammy and Wima never quite bonded but they tolerated each other and gave each other a wide berth.
Other animals in Wima's life were our Golden Retriever Daphne and our son's mixed breed dog Snoopy. Wima would lie on Daphne when the dog napped. Wima also licked Daphne's face while she was asleep, fearlessly and diligently cleaning the entire muzzle and eye area of a dog who weighed about ten times Wima's slight 6 lbs. Snoopy is staying with us temporarily while our son has some yard work done. In Wima's final days with us, Snoopy sensed her discomfort and kept near her in companionable support.
Wima was a timid cat though. Typically an indoor only cat, she once got outside and slipped under our deck. She refused to come when called, cowering in a far away, unreachable corner, for over a day. We were in quandary. Should we leave food and water for her so she stayed nourished? Or should we not leave anything so she would be forced to come out, eventually? We finally removed some boards from the deck, near the back door and left food and water for her there. We left the back door open. We watched. When she surfaced she drank and then took a few tentative steps into the house. I secretly watched from the kitchen. Once she was far enough in, I scooted behind her and shut the door. She ran and hid under the bed.
Frank had broken his hip hanging curtains in the bedroom and needed an emergency hip replacement November of 2016. (That story is in a December 15, 2016 post.) Wima shortly thereafter also broke her leg either falling out of our bed or getting tangled in the covers when she jumped out. The story of her accident is reported in February 20, 2017 post. After an ineffective week in a cast, it was determined she needed surgery to install a plate. Thereafter the cast was changed every two weeks for a total of 16 weeks in a cast. Here is a brief pictorial history of those casts: white before surgery, pink after surgery, and red/white/blue patriotic. There was also a purple and a green around St. Patrick's day but I could not find photos for those.
During the early days of Wima's recuperation, shortly after her surgery, she needed to be medicated and encouraged to eat. When dragging her out from under the bed by her tail or a leg (not the injured one of course) did not work, we would lure her with tuna fish. Long after the medication requirement faded and her cast had been removed, she came to expect those treats and would sing out at high pitch and high volume for us to fulfill her wishes - immediately if not sooner - several times a day!
These are our photos of her in March and July of 2018, still contented and playful, interacting with the granddaughters and other family members.
As she succumbed to her final illness, even the tuna did not appeal and she ceased to request it. She drank and ate less and less and slept more and more. One vet visit we gave her an injection for anti- nausea and hydrated her but she did not rally. We were told that veterinary technology is such that a kidney transplant was an option. We declined, but we did learn about where a source donor is found. A shelter cat is used as the donor but with the stipulation that the recipient's owner must adopt the donor cat. It is kind of a win-win solution.
We said our final farewell to Wima at the vet's office on Thursday August 9th. She passed being held in Frank's arms and being stroked by both of us. She could be a demanding pain in the a** but nevertheless she was a great cat and we will sorely miss her.
Little things throughout the day are repeated reminders. Our sliding closet doors are fully closed now. There are no towels draped over the top of our hinged closet doors. When I watch TV, I no longer need to endure tiny deliberate pressure points on my thigh as she blatantly walks over me to climb into Frank's lap. I no longer bug Frank to brush the cat fur off that is clinging to his pants and our couch. I no longer get granules of kitty litter embedded in the soles of my bare feet when I walk into Frank's office. I no longer bump into her water dish and slop half the contents onto our kitchen floor. Our garbage no longer smells of empty tuna fish cans but there is a final opened and partially emptied can of tuna still lingering in the refrigerator. When a shadow catches the corner of my eye, I am very quickly reminded it is not a tiny grey kitten smoothly gliding down the stairs, merely the shadow of a bird flying over our skylight, as fleeting as were those nineteen years of Wima in our lives.
Rest In Peace, Wima. You will be missed.
