A life of pain - and love

Of all the cats in my household, Pan-Pan has the most loving heart. The boy doesn’t show it the way my dog does. He doesn’t sit on laps or curl up at my feet, but he likes company - people, dogs, even other cats.

When he’s not taking cat-naps, he gazes at me. I gaze back. He slowly closes and opens his eyes, cat language for “I like you. I really like you”.

Among the other cats, one-eyed Angel is his favourite. She’s certainly loyal. One day I came home to find Pan stuck with his head and one arm in the feeding hole of a large fish tank. He must have tried to catch a spider, and now he couldn’t move, but Angel stayed with him, grooming his rear end to encourage him and calm him down.

Pan has never groomed himself. Angel has taken over the role as chief groomer. He lies on the bed as she carefully works on his ears, moving diligently down his body until he’s completely immaculate.

As she works away, he raises his head royally, a pasha in a harem of one devoted companion. As the years pass, though, Pan’s health problems worsen, and he no longer allows Angel to groom him.

Pan was a gift from a friend, who bought him from a breeder. Even though I don’t know the breeder, it’s obvious that this person doesn’t know how to breed cats, nor how to take care of them.

The boy is supposed to be a “purebred Siamese”, and he probably is, but he has white on his paws and stomach, as well as a little white beard, all markings not suitable for anyone planning on breeding Siamese.

I don’t really care about the white markings, but I do care about health issues. Pan has suffered from gum and teeth disease even as a kitten, and when he’s not yet 14, his kidneys begin slowly to fail. These are genetic problems, passed from one generation to the next.

Scarcely one year later, Pan develops breathing problems, and it becomes too dangerous to have his remaining three teeth removed surgically. “All I want is for Pan to be free from pain,” I tell the vet, but Pan, who has been administered antibiotics most of his life, is now sensitive to almost all of them. They no longer work to help him fight infections and inflammations.

Sensing his pain, Angel stays by him. She sleeps nearby, and when she notices he needs help, she calls to me, as in “Pan is in trouble”.

He lets me pick him up and hold him, relaxing as I give him a gentle hug.

Despite treatment, his health worsens. When he begins to have difficulties walking, the vet puts him on a special drip, full of vitamins, nutrition and anything else that will help.

I sit near him in his cage at the vet’s, and since he seems to be improving, I leave him there for the night, not wishing to put him through the stress of a taxi-ride home. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” I tell him.

But he doesn’t wait for me. In the early morning, the vet phones to tell me the sad news.