Animals are here to teach us lessons. I often remember that little pearl of wisdom given by my mother during one of our many conversations about the animals that have been in our lives. Sometimes when my emotions get the better of me, guilt overtakes what I know to be true: that I am a good pet parent. There is one animal in particular that left a deep and lasting imprint on me. She was a little cat named Gigi. 

In May of 2020 while COVID was ramping up and businesses were shutting down, my stress and burnout in the veterinary field had reached an all-time high. I was also still grieving the loss of my heart cat, Charlie, who had passed away 5 months earlier. And I had a bad case of kitten fever. BAD. I wanted a furry little purring body to sit on my shoulder and make me feel better. Don’t get me wrong, I knew what bringing home a kitten would mean- a commitment to caring for an animal for the next 16 to 18 years. And I was ready for that. 

It was only a few minutes after I posted on Facebook that I was looking for a kitten that I received a message. A previous coworker sent me a photo of a tiny fluff ball whose mom was a stray neighborhood cat. I immediately drove across town to pick her up. She literally fit in the palm of my hand. I named her Georgia, “Gigi” for short. 

The curious thing about her was that despite being less than 1 lb, she had already developed her milk teeth (baby teeth), but was still unsteady when she tried to walk. This discrepancy in her development caused some debate among the veterinary staff I worked with about how old she might be. Regardless, I spent the next few weeks in kitten heaven. I carried her around, bottle fed her, taught her to use the litter box, set up a play area for her, took endless photos and videos of her snuggling with my chihuahuas and slowly exploring the vast world that was our living room. She was everything I had wanted. 

After awhile it became apparent that her wobbliness was not going away as she grew. We initially speculated that she had Cerebellar Hypoplasia, a neurological condition seen in cats in which they lack balance and fine motor skills, often causing an unsteady gait. These cats very often have normal life spans, but in Gigi’s case, it became obvious that her condition was slowly worsening. 

She was only able to walk for a few weeks before she lost function in her back legs. She had to flop and hurl herself to get from one spot to another. She was still spunky, playful and adventurous just as you would expect a kitten to be. She loved to chase her feather toy or look out the window to watch her sister go on a romp in the backyard. Unfortunately even her flopping phase was short-lived. Not too long after that, she lost the ability to move around at all on her own. She couldn’t hold herself up or even steady herself enough to eat or drink. It was at this point that I had to get creative. 

She was completely dependent on me for everything. I figured out a way to fold her up in her cat bed like a little taco, place her in a small box and prop up her bowl so that she could grasp bites of food. She had to be given water with a hamster bottle, and I had to place her in her litter box every so often so she could relieve herself. Because she was unable to groom herself, I gave her regular baths complete with a blow-dry and brushing. 

Despite her impairment, there was still an undeniable mischievous spark in her eyes, and I did everything I could to help her live her best kitten life. She went to work with me everyday in her specially made cushioned cat carrier, and she slept on her little cat bed next to my pillow every night. She liked bubble wrap, crinkled up balls of paper and her catnip banana toy. She still had moments of wobbly excitement, usually just before breakfast or dinner.

By the time Gigi was a year old, she was only 4 lbs with long legs and beautiful long tabby fur. I had become accustomed to reading the signs when she needed something. She would vocalize if I moved her too quickly. I could tell by her eyes if she wasn’t positioned in a way that she was content. My vet told me it was unlikely that she was in any pain, but I suspected differently. Her back remained arched and her muscles had atrophied throughout her tiny rigid body. She couldn’t adjust herself if she was uncomfortable. I could only imagine what that was like. 

It’s hard when you care for an animal everyday to notice gradual changes. I’m not sure exactly when, but at some point, the spark in Gigi’s eyes slowly began to diminish. They no longer lit up at the sight of a toy or when I picked her up to snuggle. She could no longer grip my finger with her little toes. She no longer objected to something she disliked. While I wanted to believe that she still had some fight left, the spunk that had kept her going for so long was no longer there. Her once sparkly eyes had become vacant.

I lost Gigi in June of 2021. A dear friend of mine cared for her while my wife and I were on vacation in California. I received a call while at Yosemite National Park that she wasn’t doing well. She wasn’t able to keep food or water down and had become increasingly lethargic. When our plane landed, we drove straight to the clinic. By that time she was having trouble breathing. I took one look at her and knew her time had come. I took a moment with her and thanked her for being with me. I told her it would be ok now and that she could go fly and be free. And so she did. 

The sadness I felt after she was gone was immense. In the midst of my grief I frequently found myself asking why. Why couldn’t she have lived longer? Why did she have to have a degenerative disease? Why did she have to worsen while I was away and unable to be with her during her last days? Had I given her everything she needed? Had she been suffering and I had somehow missed it? The guilt over the possibility that I had not been a good enough mom to her was almost too much to bear. 

Animals often give us so little clues as to how they are really feeling. Gigi gave me even less than most. Maybe she knew I couldn’t bear to let her go, so she let go of me while I was away. As unfair as it was, maybe she was meant to only be with me for a short time. Maybe the beautiful mountains of Yosemite were the best place I could have received the news of her decline. 

My journey with Gigi had morphed into something completely unexpected. If you had asked me that first day I picked her up if I would want a cat who would only walk for a few weeks, only be able to play for a few months and become completely paralyzed by the time she was a year old, my answer would have been no. But as many of us have experienced, sometimes we ask for things and are given something completely different. Whether it is good or bad, fair or unfair. Sometimes life surprises us. 

Many people might have seen it as a burden to have to care for a disabled cat. But in her short life, Gigi managed to fill my heart with joy in a way that no other animal has. I learned what it meant to care for another living thing completely selflessly. She couldn’t give me anything in return. She couldn’t run up to greet me when I arrived home; she couldn’t jump on my lap while I was laying on the couch; she couldn’t run and chase the laser pointer; she couldn’t even purr. But she was perfect in my eyes. And at the end of her life, if you had asked me if I wanted to continue to care for Gigi for the next 16 to 18 years, my answer unequivocally would have been YES. 

I had wanted a kitten to make me feel better. I had expected to have a companion for many years. What I got was a very special cat that touched my life in a way I never imagined. 

I learned an invaluable lesson from Gigi that sometimes life gives us what we need in a completely different way than we anticipate. She came to me when I needed her the most. Anyone that knew her said she was very special. My friend who helped care for her said she had changed her life permanently. The veterinarians I worked with said she was a once-in-a-lifetime medical case. Although her time with me was short, her life was a miracle. 

Three months after Gigi passed, I got another Facebook message, this time with a picture of two kittens from the same momma cat that needed a home. I ended up adopting one of them while my friend who helped care for Gigi took in the other one. Simon is 2 years old now and all of the mischief and trouble a young cat can be! He wakes me up every morning, nearly trips me while zooming around hoping I’ll notice him, endlessly torments his older sister (the one who likes to romp in the yard) and LOVES his mouse toys. I see the same familiar spark in his eyes that Gigi once had. He has her essence. I hope that wherever she is, she is living the life of adventure she was always meant to.