Today marks a month since I lost my Pallina.
It was a freezing morning in early January 2002 when I saw a new cat in my colony at my workplace.
From a long distance I thought it was Lola's father, who had been missing for a few weeks, but when I got closer I saw it was a blow-in, a cat not belonging to the colony.
This meant that Lola's father wasn't coming back, he had disappeared for good...
This new cat was much younger, a girl, a nice girl with an attitude. She was trying to draw other people's attention on her, but it was me who got close to her and she responded with purrs and headbutts.
I started feeding her, separately from the rest of the colony because it seemed she wasn't welcome.
The weather was deteriorating and every day it was colder than the day before, to the point that the wet food would freeze in the dishes long before any cat could eat it.
On a very cold day, January 18, I picked her up, put her into a carrier and brought her home.
I told my wife it was just to give this lovely girl the chance to stay warm until we could be able to find her real family. I was sure that she was lost, she was too friendly to be a feral. So we started looking for posters in the area where my colony is.
After a long Sunday of searching, we were tired and were going back home, when we saw a kitten, similar to the one I had found, jumping over a fence, into a property. The property was abandoned, and more cats were into that property, some of them were alike to mine. We saw some disposable dishes around, so someone was taking care of these cats.
I went back to that spot on the next day and saw a man who was feeding those cats. I asked him if he was missing a cat in his colony, he said "Yes". I told him I had found one, he said "Well, just keep her, if you don't mind. I'm happy she has a home now".
So we kept her, but were determined to find her a new home. Lola wasn't so happy to have a stranger in her house, so they would live in two separate rooms.
This lovely kitten understood she wasn't going anywhere and decided it was time to show her real attitude. A small lion, that didn't want to be cuddled, touched, or even stared at. She was very aggressive and could easily scratch and bite.
It took months to me to tame her, and over a year to have her on my lap. The lovely girl had been looking for a dumb who could take her home, and she had found him.
We named her Pallina, a funny and silly name, but very common over here. She was about 8-9 months old when I took her to the vet for a first check-up, so we counted backwards and picked May 3, 2001, as her birth date. She was very cute, I was sure several people would have liked to adopt her...
Well, nobody wanted to adopt her, so it ended up that she stayed with us as a second cat. Romeo, Lola's brother had died less than a year before, we thought that Lola and Pallina could have grown up together.
Pallina and Lola never got along, they never played together, never slept less than 1 meter apart, never ate one in sight of the other one. For years they lived as two strangers in the same house, and I think it was a real stress for both of them.
We had always wondered why Pallina left her original birthplace to settle in my colony, that is 1 km away from where we saw other cats like her.
Well, we found that out on the first New Year's Day she spent at home with us, 11 months and 2 weeks after I rescued her.
She was frightened by fireworks.
Her original colony was near to a place where, on the last day of the year, people would celebrate with fireworks.
She was likely the more fearful kitten of the litter and at the first firework she ran away, until she felt safe, at my colony.
As a matter of fact I first saw her on January 2, 2002, the first working day after those fireworks.
Pallina was a solitary cat, she would rarely join us during the daytime activities. She'd rather stay in the other room, alone, listening to us from a distance, watching the world from the window in the other room, or sleeping. We would call her to have her with us, and when she felt like joining us, she would just show on the door of the other room, look at us as she had decided to come on her own, and was happy to see that she was still part of the family, though we never kept her out.
Her only moments of reunion with us were the meal times, when she would lay on the table, just watching us eating.
On rare occasions she would curl next to us when we were watching the TV at night.
She was independent, though still needing attentions.
Fast forward to the summer 2016.
Lola was going through hell with her rare disease. Before a diagnosis was made, we were in a rollercoaster of feelings. Pallina was a very emotional cat and would pick any change in our mood and act accordingly.
During that period Pallina started eating less and was more lethargic. I felt sad for her, because I was making her live in a stressed out environment.
But when Lola had her heavy surgery and everything was back to normal, Pallina didn't resume her appetite, so I thought that something was wrong with her too.
She was visited and the diagnosis was of hyperthyroidism.
Pallina had never suffered from anything in her life, she always had a strong health and her yearly check-ups were nearly to perfect, apart from slightly high liver levels, which the vet ascribed to a birth condition, since no supplement would help her.
Also, a few months after the diagnosis of hyperthyroidism, she started suffering from a supposed IBD.
My vets wanted to follow the route of the methimazole, I was against it from day one, but they said it was necessary to start a cure as soon as possible, and discuss about the I-131 treatment at a later time.
But this wasn't true, and after some months of methimazole, it was clear that I had to take control over this issue and do everything on my own.
Radio-iodine on pets isn't performed in Italy, this therapy is very little known, if not completely unknown, to pet owners over here, and even the veterinarians do not know much about it. The evidence of what I am saying is that my vets would ask me what this treatment was and how it works.
While I was arguing with my vets about the I-131 treatment for Pallina, Lola was diagnosed with an oral SCC, and I had to focus on both cats. I think it was the darkest period of my life. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating, I wasn't living.
That long term of hospicing took its toll on me, I lost lots of weight and I aged faster than my age.
Then, sadly, Lola died.
I was able to devote myself entirely to Pallina and her needs, and managed to set up an appointment at a clinic abroad for the I-131 treatment, without any help from my vets.
This clinic was in Belgium, about 685 miles from home.
Ironically, when Lola had been sick with her rare disease, and I had to have her operated at a very expensive clinic, I told Pallina not to be jealous for Lola. The fact that I had spent thousands for Lola wasn't meaning that I was loving Lola more than I was loving her, and I told Pallina that, if necessary, I would have done the same for her, no matter where I had to take her to.
The famous last words...
Pallina, who had never travelled farther than her vet, found herself involved in a very long journey, a 12-hour drive, across two international borders.
She had to receive a rabies vaccine, to be microchipped and have a European Pet Passport issued in order to travel abroad.
We were doing something unusual, but we were so proud!
The I-131 treatment was successful, Pallina got back home a few days later, she was totally healed. I had spent lots of money, but it was well worth it.
The news spread among several vets, who told me that I was probably the first person in this country to have treated a cat this way, and I was so proud of what I did that I told several persons that Pallina had been definitely cured for her hyperthyroidism.
Soon Pallina was known and referred to as "the cat who went to Belgium".
A few months later, though, something was wrong, and Pallina started eating less and less, again, and throwing up more and more often.
More visits, more tests, more expenses. All clues were leading to a liver disease, but no treatment seemed really effective, and we kept doing blood works and ultrasound scans in the attempt to see something.
When the spring 2018 came she was feeling much better, and we thought that the worst was behind us.
I and my wife were able to leave Pallina home during our holidays in June. The two cat-sitters were trained enough to deal with an elder cat and her medicines. They knew her very well.
The news we were receiving twice daily during our holidays was good. Pallina was fine, she was eating a lot, everything was perfect.
On the night we came back home from our holidays, we found Pallina at her dish, she was eating when we opened the door, I felt guilty for interrupting her meal. When she saw us she ran to us bursting with joy. She stopped eating that night.
Well, from that night on, she never ate her daily amount again, and four days later I took her to the same Veterinary University professor who had been visiting her in the last months. He didn't see anything weird, and told me to keep giving her her medicines as prescribed.
But things went downhill quick.
In the following two weeks Pallina was hospitalized three times, and every time she was discharged without a clear diagnosis. She was receiving IV fluids and meds at the clinic, and she was fine and eating, but as soon as she was home, without IV's, she was sick and not eating.
My last resort was to hospitalize her at the Veterinary University Hospital, where she stayed for nearly a week, until a doctor said it was time to take her home and wait for the end, because Pallina wouldn't ever recover from her condition, her days were numbered.
I felt like I was dying myself.
I went home with Pallina, and on the next day I told everything to a person at work and she said that there was clinic nearby, a clinic I never heard about before.
I called them and took Pallina in, they ran an ultrasound and saw something that others hadn't seen, a deformity in her bile duct that was preventing the bile from flowing freely towards her intestine. This bile building up was damaging her liver, hence the disease.
Why didn't other vets see that?
Was it a birth condition, as my first vet speculated, hence the slightly high liver levels she had always had?
Or was it an acquired condition due to her age or other physical issues?
A dangerous (and very costly) surgery was necessary to correct that deformity, Pallina was very sick and debilitated, the surgery was highly risky. They told me I should have taken her in at least 3 months earlier, but I told them I hadn't wasted her time, because I had her checked several times in the last months.
These vets didn't want to listen my excuses, I was wrong, I had wasted a chance!
The surgery went well, Pallina survived and three days later she was able to come home. I was giving the doctors my last savings to pay for the bill.
But things weren't going as expected, and I had to take her back.
The doctors said that Pallina was needing a blood transfusion to save her life. For the transfusion I needed a donor.
I have two semi-feral cats in my yard, one of them was a good candidate, according to these vets.
The cost of the transfusion was equal to what I still had in my wallet, and after that, I would have been penniless!
I went back home with Pallina and told her to be strong, because on the next day one of her "friends from outside" would have given her a hand.
I went to bed around midnight. I woke up 50 minutes later and went to check on her, she was breathing bad, I just cuddled her and went back to bed.
Two hours later I woke up again, went to her... she was gone!
I wished it was a nightmare, but the adrenaline shock I had should have woken me up. I was awake already, and Pallina was dead!
I called my wife, I told her what had just happened. I still remember my words, but I still can't believe those words came out from my mouth.
I will never forget the feelings in those moments. It was August 8, full summer, but suddenly the house turned cold, as cold as Pallina was...
I wrapped her in two puppy pads I had at hand, and stayed with her for a couple of hours.
I went back to bed when it was nearly dawn, but I didn't sleep, I just cried.
I had failed Pallina, I had let her die alone, without me beside her, she didn't deserve this. I can't imagine how scared she was in those moments, and I wasn't there to comfort her.
I think I will never forgive myself for this.
Early in the morning I called the clinic and cancelled the appointment for the transfusion. The next call was for the crematorium, where I took Pallina in the afternoon.
They prepared my beloved Pallina for the cremation, I and my wife had the time to say good-bye to her, then she was put in that oven and, for a split second, it seemed to me that Pallina looked at me and raised her paw to say "See you!"
An hour later we were back home with a little urn. The house was so silent, cold, quiet. It was all unreal.
Ironically, again, Pallina left this world on the day of the first anniversary of her radio-iodine treatment, that was on August 8, 2017.
My life has no meaning anymore now. The last piece of my heart has gone into that oven, with her, and I have no reason to live for, I feel that all that happens around me doesn't bother me at all.
I'm switching between a few days, or just a single day, of relatively happy mood, and long terms of sadness and depression.
I have updated my signature. It took a lot of strength and courage to do it.
And now, every time I see my signature and read the last name in it, I still can't believe what happened, it's like a stab every time.
Pallina, I loved you, even if you thought I didn't. I loved you very much, and I will love you forever. I will miss you and your love bites, and the way you didn't want to curl next to me at night. I will miss everything of you.
Forgive me for not being able to understand your needs, for not being able to give you a longer life. Forgive me for failing you. Forgive me for letting you alone on the last moment!
I will be with you and Lola one day, and I will never leave you both again.
RIP my beloved White Furball.
It was a freezing morning in early January 2002 when I saw a new cat in my colony at my workplace.
From a long distance I thought it was Lola's father, who had been missing for a few weeks, but when I got closer I saw it was a blow-in, a cat not belonging to the colony.
This meant that Lola's father wasn't coming back, he had disappeared for good...
This new cat was much younger, a girl, a nice girl with an attitude. She was trying to draw other people's attention on her, but it was me who got close to her and she responded with purrs and headbutts.
I started feeding her, separately from the rest of the colony because it seemed she wasn't welcome.
The weather was deteriorating and every day it was colder than the day before, to the point that the wet food would freeze in the dishes long before any cat could eat it.
On a very cold day, January 18, I picked her up, put her into a carrier and brought her home.
I told my wife it was just to give this lovely girl the chance to stay warm until we could be able to find her real family. I was sure that she was lost, she was too friendly to be a feral. So we started looking for posters in the area where my colony is.
After a long Sunday of searching, we were tired and were going back home, when we saw a kitten, similar to the one I had found, jumping over a fence, into a property. The property was abandoned, and more cats were into that property, some of them were alike to mine. We saw some disposable dishes around, so someone was taking care of these cats.
I went back to that spot on the next day and saw a man who was feeding those cats. I asked him if he was missing a cat in his colony, he said "Yes". I told him I had found one, he said "Well, just keep her, if you don't mind. I'm happy she has a home now".
So we kept her, but were determined to find her a new home. Lola wasn't so happy to have a stranger in her house, so they would live in two separate rooms.
This lovely kitten understood she wasn't going anywhere and decided it was time to show her real attitude. A small lion, that didn't want to be cuddled, touched, or even stared at. She was very aggressive and could easily scratch and bite.
It took months to me to tame her, and over a year to have her on my lap. The lovely girl had been looking for a dumb who could take her home, and she had found him.
We named her Pallina, a funny and silly name, but very common over here. She was about 8-9 months old when I took her to the vet for a first check-up, so we counted backwards and picked May 3, 2001, as her birth date. She was very cute, I was sure several people would have liked to adopt her...
Well, nobody wanted to adopt her, so it ended up that she stayed with us as a second cat. Romeo, Lola's brother had died less than a year before, we thought that Lola and Pallina could have grown up together.
Pallina and Lola never got along, they never played together, never slept less than 1 meter apart, never ate one in sight of the other one. For years they lived as two strangers in the same house, and I think it was a real stress for both of them.
We had always wondered why Pallina left her original birthplace to settle in my colony, that is 1 km away from where we saw other cats like her.
Well, we found that out on the first New Year's Day she spent at home with us, 11 months and 2 weeks after I rescued her.
She was frightened by fireworks.
Her original colony was near to a place where, on the last day of the year, people would celebrate with fireworks.
She was likely the more fearful kitten of the litter and at the first firework she ran away, until she felt safe, at my colony.
As a matter of fact I first saw her on January 2, 2002, the first working day after those fireworks.
Pallina was a solitary cat, she would rarely join us during the daytime activities. She'd rather stay in the other room, alone, listening to us from a distance, watching the world from the window in the other room, or sleeping. We would call her to have her with us, and when she felt like joining us, she would just show on the door of the other room, look at us as she had decided to come on her own, and was happy to see that she was still part of the family, though we never kept her out.
Her only moments of reunion with us were the meal times, when she would lay on the table, just watching us eating.
On rare occasions she would curl next to us when we were watching the TV at night.
She was independent, though still needing attentions.
Fast forward to the summer 2016.
Lola was going through hell with her rare disease. Before a diagnosis was made, we were in a rollercoaster of feelings. Pallina was a very emotional cat and would pick any change in our mood and act accordingly.
During that period Pallina started eating less and was more lethargic. I felt sad for her, because I was making her live in a stressed out environment.
But when Lola had her heavy surgery and everything was back to normal, Pallina didn't resume her appetite, so I thought that something was wrong with her too.
She was visited and the diagnosis was of hyperthyroidism.
Pallina had never suffered from anything in her life, she always had a strong health and her yearly check-ups were nearly to perfect, apart from slightly high liver levels, which the vet ascribed to a birth condition, since no supplement would help her.
Also, a few months after the diagnosis of hyperthyroidism, she started suffering from a supposed IBD.
My vets wanted to follow the route of the methimazole, I was against it from day one, but they said it was necessary to start a cure as soon as possible, and discuss about the I-131 treatment at a later time.
But this wasn't true, and after some months of methimazole, it was clear that I had to take control over this issue and do everything on my own.
Radio-iodine on pets isn't performed in Italy, this therapy is very little known, if not completely unknown, to pet owners over here, and even the veterinarians do not know much about it. The evidence of what I am saying is that my vets would ask me what this treatment was and how it works.
While I was arguing with my vets about the I-131 treatment for Pallina, Lola was diagnosed with an oral SCC, and I had to focus on both cats. I think it was the darkest period of my life. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating, I wasn't living.
That long term of hospicing took its toll on me, I lost lots of weight and I aged faster than my age.
Then, sadly, Lola died.
I was able to devote myself entirely to Pallina and her needs, and managed to set up an appointment at a clinic abroad for the I-131 treatment, without any help from my vets.
This clinic was in Belgium, about 685 miles from home.
Ironically, when Lola had been sick with her rare disease, and I had to have her operated at a very expensive clinic, I told Pallina not to be jealous for Lola. The fact that I had spent thousands for Lola wasn't meaning that I was loving Lola more than I was loving her, and I told Pallina that, if necessary, I would have done the same for her, no matter where I had to take her to.
The famous last words...
Pallina, who had never travelled farther than her vet, found herself involved in a very long journey, a 12-hour drive, across two international borders.
She had to receive a rabies vaccine, to be microchipped and have a European Pet Passport issued in order to travel abroad.
We were doing something unusual, but we were so proud!
The I-131 treatment was successful, Pallina got back home a few days later, she was totally healed. I had spent lots of money, but it was well worth it.
The news spread among several vets, who told me that I was probably the first person in this country to have treated a cat this way, and I was so proud of what I did that I told several persons that Pallina had been definitely cured for her hyperthyroidism.
Soon Pallina was known and referred to as "the cat who went to Belgium".
A few months later, though, something was wrong, and Pallina started eating less and less, again, and throwing up more and more often.
More visits, more tests, more expenses. All clues were leading to a liver disease, but no treatment seemed really effective, and we kept doing blood works and ultrasound scans in the attempt to see something.
When the spring 2018 came she was feeling much better, and we thought that the worst was behind us.
I and my wife were able to leave Pallina home during our holidays in June. The two cat-sitters were trained enough to deal with an elder cat and her medicines. They knew her very well.
The news we were receiving twice daily during our holidays was good. Pallina was fine, she was eating a lot, everything was perfect.
On the night we came back home from our holidays, we found Pallina at her dish, she was eating when we opened the door, I felt guilty for interrupting her meal. When she saw us she ran to us bursting with joy. She stopped eating that night.
Well, from that night on, she never ate her daily amount again, and four days later I took her to the same Veterinary University professor who had been visiting her in the last months. He didn't see anything weird, and told me to keep giving her her medicines as prescribed.
But things went downhill quick.
In the following two weeks Pallina was hospitalized three times, and every time she was discharged without a clear diagnosis. She was receiving IV fluids and meds at the clinic, and she was fine and eating, but as soon as she was home, without IV's, she was sick and not eating.
My last resort was to hospitalize her at the Veterinary University Hospital, where she stayed for nearly a week, until a doctor said it was time to take her home and wait for the end, because Pallina wouldn't ever recover from her condition, her days were numbered.
I felt like I was dying myself.
I went home with Pallina, and on the next day I told everything to a person at work and she said that there was clinic nearby, a clinic I never heard about before.
I called them and took Pallina in, they ran an ultrasound and saw something that others hadn't seen, a deformity in her bile duct that was preventing the bile from flowing freely towards her intestine. This bile building up was damaging her liver, hence the disease.
Why didn't other vets see that?
Was it a birth condition, as my first vet speculated, hence the slightly high liver levels she had always had?
Or was it an acquired condition due to her age or other physical issues?
A dangerous (and very costly) surgery was necessary to correct that deformity, Pallina was very sick and debilitated, the surgery was highly risky. They told me I should have taken her in at least 3 months earlier, but I told them I hadn't wasted her time, because I had her checked several times in the last months.
These vets didn't want to listen my excuses, I was wrong, I had wasted a chance!
The surgery went well, Pallina survived and three days later she was able to come home. I was giving the doctors my last savings to pay for the bill.
But things weren't going as expected, and I had to take her back.
The doctors said that Pallina was needing a blood transfusion to save her life. For the transfusion I needed a donor.
I have two semi-feral cats in my yard, one of them was a good candidate, according to these vets.
The cost of the transfusion was equal to what I still had in my wallet, and after that, I would have been penniless!
I went back home with Pallina and told her to be strong, because on the next day one of her "friends from outside" would have given her a hand.
I went to bed around midnight. I woke up 50 minutes later and went to check on her, she was breathing bad, I just cuddled her and went back to bed.
Two hours later I woke up again, went to her... she was gone!
I wished it was a nightmare, but the adrenaline shock I had should have woken me up. I was awake already, and Pallina was dead!
I called my wife, I told her what had just happened. I still remember my words, but I still can't believe those words came out from my mouth.
I will never forget the feelings in those moments. It was August 8, full summer, but suddenly the house turned cold, as cold as Pallina was...
I wrapped her in two puppy pads I had at hand, and stayed with her for a couple of hours.
I went back to bed when it was nearly dawn, but I didn't sleep, I just cried.
I had failed Pallina, I had let her die alone, without me beside her, she didn't deserve this. I can't imagine how scared she was in those moments, and I wasn't there to comfort her.
I think I will never forgive myself for this.
Early in the morning I called the clinic and cancelled the appointment for the transfusion. The next call was for the crematorium, where I took Pallina in the afternoon.
They prepared my beloved Pallina for the cremation, I and my wife had the time to say good-bye to her, then she was put in that oven and, for a split second, it seemed to me that Pallina looked at me and raised her paw to say "See you!"
An hour later we were back home with a little urn. The house was so silent, cold, quiet. It was all unreal.
Ironically, again, Pallina left this world on the day of the first anniversary of her radio-iodine treatment, that was on August 8, 2017.
My life has no meaning anymore now. The last piece of my heart has gone into that oven, with her, and I have no reason to live for, I feel that all that happens around me doesn't bother me at all.
I'm switching between a few days, or just a single day, of relatively happy mood, and long terms of sadness and depression.
I have updated my signature. It took a lot of strength and courage to do it.
And now, every time I see my signature and read the last name in it, I still can't believe what happened, it's like a stab every time.
Pallina, I loved you, even if you thought I didn't. I loved you very much, and I will love you forever. I will miss you and your love bites, and the way you didn't want to curl next to me at night. I will miss everything of you.
Forgive me for not being able to understand your needs, for not being able to give you a longer life. Forgive me for failing you. Forgive me for letting you alone on the last moment!
I will be with you and Lola one day, and I will never leave you both again.
RIP my beloved White Furball.
Last edited:
