This is Buddie's story.

Buddie's mother was a feral cat that lived in the neighborhood pumping out
endless liters. My hope was to trap her one day and have her fixed by the
vet and release her again. Having already talked my bride into letting me
adopt a stray kitten a year earlier I knew there was no chance she who
always proclaimed to be a cat hater would allow me the pleasure of another.

About four and a half years ago here in Florida we had a serious drought and
wild fires sprung up everywhere. Buddie's mother actually started nursing
Buddie again a behavior which I thought was strange. I started feeding
Buddies mother when I saw this and for a wild cat she was pretty smart. She
would here the cat food I kept in a large Tupperware container when I shook
it and would come prancing down the street Buddie in tow. She would sit at
the very end of the driveway till I disappeared back into the house before
she would indulge the food and water.

Buddie was much smaller than the rest of this liter which had left the
mother weeks ago. His mother would wait till he got his fill before she
would finish off the leftovers. I found that strange behavior for a cat that
was obviously hungry but she would eat a little then let him get his fill
before she finished it off.

I decided I would do everything in my power to trap Buddie and get 'it'
fixed before the same life it's mother had happened to it.

For the next couple of weeks I would shake the Tupperware container and
place the bowl closer and closer to the sliding door. When they came I would
lay on the floor and extend my arm dropping a sardine to the step as they
stood off and watched me. When I retreated back inside they would feast.
Buddie's mother would lick the sardine nibble a bit then Buddie would finish
it, no scraps for mother.

It wasn't long before these cats had me timed and showed up waiting in the
bushes. After a few more days Buddie slowly got braver and approached within
6 feet. Buddies mother was pregnant again and he was starting to aggravate
her. Buddie got braver and braver with each passing day and was soon within
reach sniffing my fingers before I dropped the sardine or jack mackerel to
the step. Even, allowing me to touch his fur behind the ear once.

That night it was exceptionally hot and you could see the orange glow in the
sky from not too distant fires. Looking out the front window my bride saw
Buddie sluggishly walk across the street and fall over right smack dab in
the middle. My bride got upset at this and ran out of the house toward
Buddie but just before she got within reach of him Buddie stood up and shot
back across the street to the safety of his waiting mother and plopped down
on the ground next to her.

As my bride (she who hates cats) wiped a tear from her eye she told me to do
what ever I could to save that mangy kitten. To me that was like hearing the
words Green Light after an extended period of abstinence.

The very next morning Buddie and his mother waiting in the bushes I extended
my hand. This time it was empty. Buddie sniffed it and stood back. I
withdrew my hand and closed the door. Buddie approached the door and wiped
it with his paw. I layed back on the floor and Buddie came closer to sniff
my fingers and gave my hand a head butt. In an instant and what seemed like
a gallon of blood I had him in the cat carrier.

Straight to the vet we went. Surprisingly, with all the commotion at the vet
's office he found comfort in my familiar face a stayed really, really close
to me shaking all the time.

He was neutered that day and had to stay there overnight. When I brought him
home I didn't want to turn him loose for a day or two so he would have time
to heal. Didn't seem like it would be any problem at all he took to the
litter box instantly.

That evening when his mother came to the step for her water and sardine,
Buddie approached the door with enthusiasm, his mother let out a loud blood
curdling scream as she lunged so hard at Buddie I thought she'd break the
glass!

This cracked open my bride's heart told me to keep Buddie inside for awhile
and see how it works out! I am telling you love Buddie gives could melt the
north pole. Buddie has been an inside cat ever since.

And that's the way Buddie has always been, warm, loving and ready to give us
a head butt in an instant.

Buddie Was My Cat

When I came home he heard the truck and would greet me at the door. When I
sprawled on the sofa he curled up to my stomach. Just think about touching
him and he would purr so loud it was incredible.

But Buddie didn't like strangers, he would sit up when he heard them, make a
low pitched growl and retreat to his safe place under the bed. If the
grandkids came to visit or if he heard you mention "vacuum cleaner" he'd be
in his safe place for hours.

Buddie was such a pretty cat and had such a great personality even my mother
fell in love with him and she visits Buddie to this day. I am not the only
one that breaks into tears over Buddie condition.

I Think I Killed My Cat But He Hadn't Died Yet

You may know when your kids grow up and leave the nest and have families of
their own your pets become your children. You love them unconditionally and
you worry about them, plan your life around them.

Several months ago, both cats were shedding faster than I could keep them
combed. Throwing up hairballs didn't seem extraordinary.

A few months ago Buddie started something out of the blue. He would come and
gently swat my leg while I was typing for attention. After ignoring him for
a few swats I would get up and give him a Catty Shack, his favorite kitty
treat. He'd give me a confused look, lick the treat and then eat it with
little enthusiasm.

I had noticed Sabrina had an intestinal parasite I thought was round worm
and used an over the counter wormer to treat both cats.

Soon I noticed Buddie wasn't eating his 5 am and 5 pm teaspoon full of tuna,
Star Kist chunk light in water was his favorite. He would simply lick it
from one side of the saucer to the other.

It wasn't long that I noticed Buddie was urinating large amounts.

Not long after that I noticed he was losing weight.

I called the vet to schedule a house call for both cats to be checked out.
Sabrina still showed signs of what I thought were round worms. The following
day I noticed Buddies eyes were moving erratically and he had trouble
standing up. The very next morning I decided we would head straight for the
vet. He was so weak he drew I lost no blood at all putting him in the
carrier.

I missed so many signs it's hard not to blame myself.

I didn't kill my cat

It wasn't me that killed my cat, it was something called CRF. Critical Renal
Failure I think of it as a rotten kidney because it made Buddie and I a
rotten time.

There were sub-q water treatments and pills and dietary supplements and warm
sponge baths to keep my once beautiful friend clean when he couldn't do it
any more. There was a ton of laundry to keep up with; wet towels and 10
times as much cat litter to deal with.

There was payer that kept running through my heart, my mind, my mouth. I don
't know if they helped Buddie or not but at moments when I was so frustrated
at my own lack of power to help Buddie it seemed like an important step to
call in the Big One.

Near the end Buddie tried to avoid us. He knows we still love him but I
think he is telling me to stop.

Several times he sought out secluded places I called his safe places. Safe
from perhaps me. Finally he found that tight space above the generator
outside in the sunroom where I could reach him to pet him and slip him food
and water but could get a grip on him to make him get another treatment. The
temperatures dipped very low for Florida, into the 40s. I finally ambushed
him when he climbed down to use the liter.

He was very thin and better to some degree after a treatment but there was
this clear syrup like mucus that built up in his mouth and made breathing a
labor for him.

He keeps looking at me and I know this sounds extremely stupid but I just
about certain he is telling me to help him go.

Early this night he was like grinding his teeth and making swallowing
motions. I think it's the mucus that is now causing him great discomfort.
The hours of this night are crawling by and I can leave his side for more
than a few minutes.

My message to him has changed from "fight this Buddie" to a "will you just
go".  If big men can't cry just what the hell has happened to me. I simply
can't hold him together anymore. I swear it is me that is dyeing and would
be easier if it was.

His fur is so soiled from his own fluids I can't get him clean any more. It
kills me to see him dirty.

If the next couple of hours could just be fair ones I will surely be the vet
's first call. She's a loving person and I know she can bring Buddie peace.