HISTORY
Back in 2011, I was not a crazy cat lady. Like a normal person, I had a dog (2) and a cat (2). I was really more of a dog person, if you must be one or the other. My cats were not particularly interested in humans.
But, when my cat, Roben, died, I decided to get littermates. She was the littermate to Batman and they were so very sweet as kittens. They laid belly-to-belly all the time and played nonstop.
When he was three, he was electrocuted while chewing on a wire. He survived a year, but she never wanted anything to do with him after it happened – it was so very sad.
Anyway, I went to a shelter called Angels with Paws in Lakewood to find two kittens. It was kitten season, but there were no littermates. The only kitten they had was already adopted.
I meandered around the cat rooms to avoid dealing with the mess that was my life. In one room, this gorgeous little Manx named Izzy kept jumping on my shoulder. She was so, so sweet.
I remember standing there for longer than was considered normal with this tiny cat lying on my chest. The more she purred, the more I cried.
The staff tried not to stare - I imagine they thought I was a bit crazy. Rightly so - I was broken at the time.
I went back to this specific shelter (a long way from our home) three times looking for kittens. There were none to be found there (likely any other time or anywhere else there would have been loads of them).
Each time, the sweet little Manx laid on my chest. Each time she provided much needed comfort to my wounded psyche and ego. Each time I stood in her room at the shelter and tried not to cry.
On the third visit I decided Izzy had chosen me. I asked to adopt her. They said no.
I was incensed. They explained that she had special needs. That she had been adopted and returned three times. That the board had decided she would not have to go through that again.
So?? Does that mean she has to live in a shelter the rest of her life?!
At the time I didn’t think about how amazing this place was to take her back time and again. Or, that they were committed to caring for her the rest of her life.
I just wanted her for myself. I needed her. She needed me.
I insisted that we would care for her and would never bring her back unless something life altering happened. I didn’t say so, but I was certain that I could not handle another loss. Giving up this sweet, magical little sprite of a cat was not happening.
Then they told me what was wrong with her - and what caring for her entailed.
Staff: She needs human assistance to evacuate her bowels.
Me: Huh?
Staff: Yes, and you do that by pressing on her colon to push the feces out of her (squeezing the shit out of her, as my husband says). She has feline spina bifida.
Me: What? She looks normal except she has no tail.
Staff: I know - everyone who sees her falls in love with her. But when they find out what it takes to care for her, they move on to another cat.
Hmmm...how hard can it be? I was in love with her. And she chose me.
Holding Izzy as she vibrated over my wounded heart was the most comfort I’d had since experiencing what some would term a nervous breakdown.
I had to have her. One sure way to get me to dig in and fight is to tell me no.
Me: Let me ask my husband and you ask your board to consider it.
My husband came over and held her for a minute...she threw up on his shoulder. It was funny to me, but he was not as amused. Izzy was oblivious - I am sure she felt better.
She had been out for a walk on her little pink leash - eating grass. She was the only cat there with a pink harness and leash. The only one that got to go out for a walk. Privileges of being there forever.
My husband said if I wanted Izzy, we would make it work. He would have done anything to get me to stop crying so much.
The shelter required that we come out there every other day for a month to learn how to make Izzy poop. I tried my best, but it was hard. I was afraid I was hurting her. She only weighed 6 pounds.
Izzy was a good sport, having been ‘expressed’ her entire life, but it made me so anxious I couldn’t do it. Thankfully, my husband got the hang of it - so finally we got to bring her home.
That sweet kitty laid on my heart everyday while I did my best to work. Or look for work. Or just sit and stare out the window as my mind tripped on how to pay the bills without my income.
I had recently left my job as a superstar with a national nonprofit and bombed out in a new position with a multinational insurance company. That job was my worst nightmare.
It brought up all the shame and fear of the fat kid with learning and attention problems. I was miserable there for the two short months before I started having anxiety attacks in the parking lot.
When my fairly new husband had a health crisis and they would not ‘let me’ leave training to be there for his surgery, I walked away.
As it turned out, I was more terrified of losing my sort-of-new husband (after 50 years of freedom and independence) than being homeless and poor. Dependency needs I was unfamiliar with surfaced to push me the rest of the way over the edge. My shaky ego was shattered.
Little Izzy was just what I needed. She vibrated her magical little purr-power over my wounded heart for hours each day. I was in love with her. She was so nurturing and soothing - a total healer.
We started calling her the oxytocin machine - spreading lovebombs everywhere she goes. She healed my broken spirit over time, and I love her more than I can even verbalize. We have trauma bonds, I suppose.
After about three years and the loss of my 18-year- old cat, I decided we should help other cats with special needs. We were good at it. Izzy was thriving. We had figured out ways to care for her that were easier on her and better for us.
Cats that can’t pee and poop due to medical conditions are usually killed at birth. Those that develop ‘litterbox’ problems, aka peeing or pooping outside the box, make up the majority of cats that are returned or surrendered to shelters. Almost all of them are killed.
People hate cat pee and poop more than they love their cats. And it turns out, there are a lot of cats with pee and poop problems for a variety of reasons.
Caring for cats with bowel and bladder problems is both an art and a science. You must be willing to tolerate pee and poop, which was difficult for me - I can’t lie. Like with babies, it takes a while, but you get used to it.
I started looking for cats with problems that needed homes. I found two special needs cats that needed us.
One little guy with no feet in WI (our sweet Merlin - the cat previously known as Muffin-with-no-legs!) and another cat like Izzy with Manx Syndrome (spina bifida) in MI (Oz who was called Oberlin pre-CCAS).
I went online and filed papers with the Secretary of State to incorporate Colorado Companion Animal Sanctuary (CCAS). Two days later, I took off across the Midwest to rescue these babies. It was my first rescue and I was very excited!
So, the journey began.
Soon, we moved to the mountains, but only with the understanding that I would work from home and we would have an animal sanctuary. It happened.
People from all over the US called for help with their cats, and we took them in. It was cool, but overwhelming. We made mistakes but figured things out.
One little black cat we named JohnnyCash! was sick for almost a year. Thankfully, he and the rest of us survived.
It seemed I had found the cure for my depression and anxiety - cats! None had Izzy’s healing power, but they were all magical!
Then, on Dec. 4, 2016, our house burned to the ground.
And the sanctuary.
And two cats.
We had been there for 15 months.
I wasn’t too concerned about the house and all our worldly belongings, but I was devastated about the cats.
Recovery from the fire is taking a LONG time. Zoning regulations have changed since the original house was built.
There is only one builder in the country that builds the monolithic dome we want.
To build an underground home in the side of a mountain required months of excavation.
Working with the insurance company and mortgage company is a pain in the ass.
The list continues…
Two long years and three temporary housing situations later, most of the cats are living in a (nice) 31 ft RV purchased with money from a fundraiser.
I am staying in a cabin two doors down with a couple of cats (including Izzy!) and Lincoln, our Great Dane.
This allows me to have internet and phone access to work. And, Lincoln makes it hard to have everyone in an RV.
My husband commutes to Denver 3 hours a day, works 8 hours and sleeps at the RV with the cats. We will need to rebuild our relationship as we rebuild our home and the sanctuary.
Our funky little family (including the cats and Lincoln) hasn’t lived together since the fire.
The sanctuary has said ‘no’ to dozens of special needs cats.
We have no idea when we can say ‘yes!’ again.
At least we have a place to sleep, shower and do laundry, which is substantial with 7 incontinent cats and 2 that use washable potty pads.
(In the early days of this journey, I made three trips a week to the laundromat and showered at a friend’s house. It was hard to find time to do my paid work.You learn to appreciate things like water, showers and a washer/dryer.)
Chris, my husband and partner in the cat sanctuary, reminds me often if you are going to rebuild everything from nothing, it is worth taking the time to get what you want and need.
We will not be rebuilding our lives and life’s work from the ground up (literally) again. It must be done right.
If it were up to me, we would have been living in a new house within 9 months, but that’s me. I hate being in limbo. Living out of suitcases for two years has been nearly unbearable.
However, this experience has really helped us understand how important it is for the cats to have contact with us throughout the day. This is lifetime care. It is their home.
Being away from them during the day while I work has been hard on them and me. Thankfully, I have Izzy with me always - I have needed her a lot to get the oxytocin fix that makes this tolerable.
I am with the other sanctuary cats in the morning and afternoon, but it is obvious that they need more human companionship and stimulation. I also need more interaction with them to know that I am doing the best I can for them.
To make this happen, we need help. We can’t do this alone.
We the humans need more hands-on assistance.
The cats need more enrichment and PT.
Our sanctuary needs to be furnished and equipped to meet the needs of our special cats.
We all need your help to make this a reality again.
If you are interested in helping or know anyone who may be, check out the babies. There is more information about the them here. You simply must see them...they are amazing!
We have some superstars and magic men, like Merlin, Oz, Zeus, Samaria, JohnnyCash! and Cyndi Lauper, as well as other precious souls you simply have to meet to appreciate.
Thanks!
LuAnn and Chris
But, when my cat, Roben, died, I decided to get littermates. She was the littermate to Batman and they were so very sweet as kittens. They laid belly-to-belly all the time and played nonstop.
When he was three, he was electrocuted while chewing on a wire. He survived a year, but she never wanted anything to do with him after it happened – it was so very sad.
Anyway, I went to a shelter called Angels with Paws in Lakewood to find two kittens. It was kitten season, but there were no littermates. The only kitten they had was already adopted.
I meandered around the cat rooms to avoid dealing with the mess that was my life. In one room, this gorgeous little Manx named Izzy kept jumping on my shoulder. She was so, so sweet.
I remember standing there for longer than was considered normal with this tiny cat lying on my chest. The more she purred, the more I cried.
The staff tried not to stare - I imagine they thought I was a bit crazy. Rightly so - I was broken at the time.
I went back to this specific shelter (a long way from our home) three times looking for kittens. There were none to be found there (likely any other time or anywhere else there would have been loads of them).
Each time, the sweet little Manx laid on my chest. Each time she provided much needed comfort to my wounded psyche and ego. Each time I stood in her room at the shelter and tried not to cry.
On the third visit I decided Izzy had chosen me. I asked to adopt her. They said no.
I was incensed. They explained that she had special needs. That she had been adopted and returned three times. That the board had decided she would not have to go through that again.
So?? Does that mean she has to live in a shelter the rest of her life?!
At the time I didn’t think about how amazing this place was to take her back time and again. Or, that they were committed to caring for her the rest of her life.
I just wanted her for myself. I needed her. She needed me.
I insisted that we would care for her and would never bring her back unless something life altering happened. I didn’t say so, but I was certain that I could not handle another loss. Giving up this sweet, magical little sprite of a cat was not happening.
Then they told me what was wrong with her - and what caring for her entailed.
Staff: She needs human assistance to evacuate her bowels.
Me: Huh?
Staff: Yes, and you do that by pressing on her colon to push the feces out of her (squeezing the shit out of her, as my husband says). She has feline spina bifida.
Me: What? She looks normal except she has no tail.
Staff: I know - everyone who sees her falls in love with her. But when they find out what it takes to care for her, they move on to another cat.
Hmmm...how hard can it be? I was in love with her. And she chose me.
Holding Izzy as she vibrated over my wounded heart was the most comfort I’d had since experiencing what some would term a nervous breakdown.
I had to have her. One sure way to get me to dig in and fight is to tell me no.
Me: Let me ask my husband and you ask your board to consider it.
My husband came over and held her for a minute...she threw up on his shoulder. It was funny to me, but he was not as amused. Izzy was oblivious - I am sure she felt better.
She had been out for a walk on her little pink leash - eating grass. She was the only cat there with a pink harness and leash. The only one that got to go out for a walk. Privileges of being there forever.
My husband said if I wanted Izzy, we would make it work. He would have done anything to get me to stop crying so much.
The shelter required that we come out there every other day for a month to learn how to make Izzy poop. I tried my best, but it was hard. I was afraid I was hurting her. She only weighed 6 pounds.
Izzy was a good sport, having been ‘expressed’ her entire life, but it made me so anxious I couldn’t do it. Thankfully, my husband got the hang of it - so finally we got to bring her home.
That sweet kitty laid on my heart everyday while I did my best to work. Or look for work. Or just sit and stare out the window as my mind tripped on how to pay the bills without my income.
I had recently left my job as a superstar with a national nonprofit and bombed out in a new position with a multinational insurance company. That job was my worst nightmare.
It brought up all the shame and fear of the fat kid with learning and attention problems. I was miserable there for the two short months before I started having anxiety attacks in the parking lot.
When my fairly new husband had a health crisis and they would not ‘let me’ leave training to be there for his surgery, I walked away.
As it turned out, I was more terrified of losing my sort-of-new husband (after 50 years of freedom and independence) than being homeless and poor. Dependency needs I was unfamiliar with surfaced to push me the rest of the way over the edge. My shaky ego was shattered.
Little Izzy was just what I needed. She vibrated her magical little purr-power over my wounded heart for hours each day. I was in love with her. She was so nurturing and soothing - a total healer.
We started calling her the oxytocin machine - spreading lovebombs everywhere she goes. She healed my broken spirit over time, and I love her more than I can even verbalize. We have trauma bonds, I suppose.
After about three years and the loss of my 18-year- old cat, I decided we should help other cats with special needs. We were good at it. Izzy was thriving. We had figured out ways to care for her that were easier on her and better for us.
Cats that can’t pee and poop due to medical conditions are usually killed at birth. Those that develop ‘litterbox’ problems, aka peeing or pooping outside the box, make up the majority of cats that are returned or surrendered to shelters. Almost all of them are killed.
People hate cat pee and poop more than they love their cats. And it turns out, there are a lot of cats with pee and poop problems for a variety of reasons.
Caring for cats with bowel and bladder problems is both an art and a science. You must be willing to tolerate pee and poop, which was difficult for me - I can’t lie. Like with babies, it takes a while, but you get used to it.
I started looking for cats with problems that needed homes. I found two special needs cats that needed us.
One little guy with no feet in WI (our sweet Merlin - the cat previously known as Muffin-with-no-legs!) and another cat like Izzy with Manx Syndrome (spina bifida) in MI (Oz who was called Oberlin pre-CCAS).
I went online and filed papers with the Secretary of State to incorporate Colorado Companion Animal Sanctuary (CCAS). Two days later, I took off across the Midwest to rescue these babies. It was my first rescue and I was very excited!
So, the journey began.
Soon, we moved to the mountains, but only with the understanding that I would work from home and we would have an animal sanctuary. It happened.
People from all over the US called for help with their cats, and we took them in. It was cool, but overwhelming. We made mistakes but figured things out.
One little black cat we named JohnnyCash! was sick for almost a year. Thankfully, he and the rest of us survived.
It seemed I had found the cure for my depression and anxiety - cats! None had Izzy’s healing power, but they were all magical!
Then, on Dec. 4, 2016, our house burned to the ground.
And the sanctuary.
And two cats.
We had been there for 15 months.
I wasn’t too concerned about the house and all our worldly belongings, but I was devastated about the cats.
Recovery from the fire is taking a LONG time. Zoning regulations have changed since the original house was built.
There is only one builder in the country that builds the monolithic dome we want.
To build an underground home in the side of a mountain required months of excavation.
Working with the insurance company and mortgage company is a pain in the ass.
The list continues…
Two long years and three temporary housing situations later, most of the cats are living in a (nice) 31 ft RV purchased with money from a fundraiser.
I am staying in a cabin two doors down with a couple of cats (including Izzy!) and Lincoln, our Great Dane.
This allows me to have internet and phone access to work. And, Lincoln makes it hard to have everyone in an RV.
My husband commutes to Denver 3 hours a day, works 8 hours and sleeps at the RV with the cats. We will need to rebuild our relationship as we rebuild our home and the sanctuary.
Our funky little family (including the cats and Lincoln) hasn’t lived together since the fire.
The sanctuary has said ‘no’ to dozens of special needs cats.
We have no idea when we can say ‘yes!’ again.
At least we have a place to sleep, shower and do laundry, which is substantial with 7 incontinent cats and 2 that use washable potty pads.
(In the early days of this journey, I made three trips a week to the laundromat and showered at a friend’s house. It was hard to find time to do my paid work.You learn to appreciate things like water, showers and a washer/dryer.)
Chris, my husband and partner in the cat sanctuary, reminds me often if you are going to rebuild everything from nothing, it is worth taking the time to get what you want and need.
We will not be rebuilding our lives and life’s work from the ground up (literally) again. It must be done right.
If it were up to me, we would have been living in a new house within 9 months, but that’s me. I hate being in limbo. Living out of suitcases for two years has been nearly unbearable.
However, this experience has really helped us understand how important it is for the cats to have contact with us throughout the day. This is lifetime care. It is their home.
Being away from them during the day while I work has been hard on them and me. Thankfully, I have Izzy with me always - I have needed her a lot to get the oxytocin fix that makes this tolerable.
I am with the other sanctuary cats in the morning and afternoon, but it is obvious that they need more human companionship and stimulation. I also need more interaction with them to know that I am doing the best I can for them.
To make this happen, we need help. We can’t do this alone.
We the humans need more hands-on assistance.
The cats need more enrichment and PT.
Our sanctuary needs to be furnished and equipped to meet the needs of our special cats.
We all need your help to make this a reality again.
If you are interested in helping or know anyone who may be, check out the babies. There is more information about the them here. You simply must see them...they are amazing!
We have some superstars and magic men, like Merlin, Oz, Zeus, Samaria, JohnnyCash! and Cyndi Lauper, as well as other precious souls you simply have to meet to appreciate.
Thanks!
LuAnn and Chris