An Eulogy of Sorts
I have lost one of my kittens. I will post a picture of both of them here. The tabby one’s name was Sean or Knuzzle, and the other’s name is Travis or Trouble.
About a week ago, I and my friend Adrienne (who was visiting) woke up and began making breakfast when we heard a strange sound. I turned to watch the younger of my two kittens, Knuzzle, vomit a strange yellow liquid. I cleaned it up and remarked that I hope he wasn’t sick, or that he hadn’t eaten something rotten. You see, he had been perfectly rambunctiously normal the night before. I thought he would rid himself of whatever it was and be fine. But as the day progressed he continued to vomit every few hours, and refused to eat or drink. I began to worry that perhaps he was getting dangerously dehydrated. But I didn’t know what it was, still hoping that it would pass in good time. All through the night he continued to vomit at intervals, looking more and more depressed and tired. The following morning I contemplated going to Outat L-Haj for to see the veterinarian there, but instead opted to call the Canadian vet in Fez. Who was spectacularly unhelpful. Increasingly worried, I watched my little Knuzzle deteriorate. He lost weight, he hid from us. I went out and got the number of another veterinarian, and tried to call him. No answer. I had to go to a meeting with my ladies, and because of this I did not take the last transit into town… later that evening, Adrienne and I watched my little kitten struggle into death. I wrapped him in a cloth with teddy bears on it. I cried. I cuddled my remaining kitten.
The next morning Adrienne and I awoke to a most unwelcome noise: my second kitten had contracted whatever it was. I made my decision without deliberating, put my cat into a box with a soft cloth, packed a backpack and caught the first transit to Outat. Adrienne graciously agreed to teach English to 30 plus kids-without knowing more than 5 words of the local language-so I could go try to save the life of Trouble. I went to my host family’s house in Outat, and my Aunt of some sort agreed to go with me to the vets so as to translate for me from Tashelheit to Moroccan Arabic. The vet had to be called in, and when he came he seemed unconcerned. He gave Trouble 5 mL of some drug and told me to feed him up. We dropped Trouble off at my family’s house, and I, slightly hopeful, went to the cyber to look up the name of the drug. It turned out to be sorbitol, a sugar-alcohol that is often used in make-up. And therefore of little use to him… So I put Google to work for me, and looked up cat diseases. Before long I had made an educated guess based upon my observations and the list of symptoms and the high mortality rate. (Note: two other kittens had recently died of similar symptoms next door). Decision: Feline Distemper, or Feline Leukopenia (CHECK THIS SPELLING). Mortality rate over 60%. I went and purchased some meds and learned how to give a cat a shot (the skin is a whole lot thinner than a cows… obviously…). I proceeded to try to nurse him back to health. With the help of my host sister, my host aunt, and later Adrienne, we have gotten him past the 5 day mark of probable survival, but he still refuses to eat. I am so so so so thankful to everyone who helped, consoled, and encouraged me… Adrienne, Anthony, Natalie, Erin, my parents, Johnny, Liz, Nate, and Sarah.
It’s interesting: animals become so important to us as companions. I am grateful that he has survived this far… I am now certain that living alone is less than ideal, though perfectly workable, for me. I hope and pray my little buddy will pull through and beat the stats.

Note: I am happy to report that Trouble has made it to day 7 and has begun eating and drinking small amounts on his own!!! Just getting him this far is a fantastic thing, I only hope he continues to improve. :)