We have always had cats in the family over the course of our 43-year marriage, up until 2016, that is. Our first kitties as a married couple were Jack and Jill. Then came and went a few others - Princess, Shadow, Pepper, Tucker - I’m probably forgetting a few. All had their own personalities, and I could probably write a book filled with stories of the crazy things they would do to make me mad, smile or cry. My all-time favorite kitty was the last one to share our humble home. Her name was Sophie.
Sophie was given to us by our former neighbors, Doug and Ruth, whom I like to call the neighborhood animal whisperers. They adopted Sophie for us, not only because they were kind and thoughtful neighbors, but also because they felt bad after our other cat, Princess, was found nearly dead under the hood of their car. You know those warnings about knocking on the hood of your car before starting up the motor to scare away any animals that borrowed near the motor for warmth? Well, it’s all very true. Even a family pet will seek warmth under a hood, as we sadly found out that day. Despite attempts to save Princess, she didn’t make it, and Sophie was a welcomed and comforting gift. Doug and Ruth’s own family dogs and cats were cute, well-behaved and friendly. Sophie was no different. She was a sweet and good-tempered long-haired Calico, and the only challenge in all the years we owned her was keeping her neat, tidy and fur-clump free - a task I did not excel at.
It was Christmas Night, and our guests had just gone home. As was the case most holidays in recent years, David was congested and wheezing, which we chalked up to spending a good amount of time inside during the winter months or maybe allergies to food served only at Christmas (my stuffing was the receipt of most of the blame). Perhaps it was just dust. Whatever the problem, we just lived with it every year. He would excuse himself and retire to the bedroom, open the windows and lay down until it passed. But this time, it was much more serious. Simply put, David couldn't breathe. Getting him to the car for a drive to the E.R. was impossible, so I called 9-1-1, and paramedics swiftly came, gave him oxygen and whisked him to the hospital. After some screening, treatment, testing, oxygen and various other things to get his airway open, he was diagnosed with a severe asthma attack, released and told to follow up with an allergist to figure out the cause of his distress.
A few days later we went to the allergist, who prescribed an inhaler, medication and further allergy testing. All the tests for various allergens came back normal, except for one - CATS. The cat allergens in his blood were way off the chart. As the doctor put it when he called with the results, David was breathing with the lungs of an 80-year-old man. On the follow-up visit, we walked into the office, where the doc immediately asked me, "Mrs. Neves, are you trying to kill your husband?" Well, no, not intentionally, I said to myself. The doctor was half-joking, of course, but his next statement was sternly directed to my husband: "Mr. Neves, get rid of the cat if you want to live." Well, you might as well have thrown a bucket of ice at my face.
I was horrified. Not because of the possibility of my husband going to an early grave, but the part about getting rid of the cat. We were talking about Sophie, here, our nearly 15-year-old beautiful, gentle calico - a member of the family. What was my next thought? I can tell you it wasn’t anything to do with getting rid of Sophie. It was more the question of how can David and Sophie cohabitate safely? I immediately thought of moving Sophie to the basement room. No, David’s office is there, and that won’t work. What if I could move Sophie upstairs to one of the empty bedrooms? No, not possible. She would be lonely in a tiny room by herself. If only we had a bigger house! That's it - an addition! No, too big of an undertaking and too expensive. What if we were to weatherproof the garage, build an addition or swap homes with someone? Yes, these were absurd, crazy ideas, but desperate situations call for desperate measures. You have to understand - I was trying to save my cat.
Realizing that there were no suitable options, I sadly came to the conclusion that I had to find Sophie a new home. I immediately went on Facebook and tearfully pleaded for someone to adopt her. It wasn’t long before an angel of mercy replied. Remember our former neighbors, Doug and Ruth? The animal whisperers? They had moved to Connecticut a few years earlier, and offered to take Sophie to live with them, their kids and all their furry friends. I was so happy; I cried tears of joy! I couldn’t have found a better adoptive home if I looked across the entire country.
So I suppose after 40 years of marriage, I decided my husband was worth keeping, after all. He didn't have to live in the garage, and the cat got a good home. It was a win-win! We renovated the house, removed carpets and wallpaper and banished all evidence of cats and dander. Thankfully, the home expense was worth it, and David has breathed easier since. Sophie would be our last pet, and while we miss animal companionship, we don't miss the responsibility, nor do we miss the litter box!
Parting with Sophie was bittersweet. A few weeks later, I loaded up the cat carrier, put her into the car, and off we went to the meeting place to make the exchange. I don't remember if she was crying in the carrier, but I do know that I was crying at the steering wheel the entire way. I tear up now just thinking about it. But I am comforted to know that Sophie lived out her final years in a home filled with love and warmth. That’s the best anyone could hope for.❤️