How we behave toward cats here below determines our status in heaven.
~Robert A. Heinlein
My mom was diagnosed with metastatic cancer this summer. She was happy and full of life the day my daughter graduated from college. She walked two miles, navigated the tortuous hills at Lehigh University, and took pride in her granddaughter graduating as the first Engineering-Psychology major at Lehigh.
The next day, my mother had a CAT scan. The results showed that she had a large tumor in her lung. The following morning, she bled into her kidney, and we were in the emergency room. She had metastases in her kidneys, liver, and hip. One day later, the PET scan confirmed the devastating final blow: she had metastatic lesions in her brain.
Almost immediately, she said, “Aim, I need to put the cats to sleep. I don’t want you to have to deal with this. You can’t take them, and you won’t be able to find a home for them because they need to be together.” My mom loved animals, but she loved these two cats desperately. They were her “girls.”
I begged her not to put them to sleep. I wanted her to have as much time and happiness with them as possible, and somehow I convinced her to wait. And, honestly, changing my mom’s mind was no easy task.
My mom passed away only five-and-a-half weeks later. We watched her lose her ability to drive, her strength, energy, and independence. Every day, she lost another small piece of herself. What she didn’t lose was her dignity, her pride, and her ability to speak her mind. She spoke openly about how there is “no blueprint for how to die.”
She spent time with us, loved us, and cried and laughed often. She taught us many things, but perhaps the greatest lesson she taught us in those few weeks was that even in the most horrific of circumstances, one can find a reason to get up and get out of bed in the morning. Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity, in life and in death. She modeled true bravery and courage. She was the family matriarch, the family comedian, and everyone’s greatest supporter and champion. We miss her profoundly each and every day.
As predicted, we tried endlessly to find a home for her adored cats. We asked everyone we knew, advertised, e-mailed, and called at least fifty nonprofits all over the country, often with no response. What I didn’t know was that seventy percent of cats and sixty percent of dogs are euthanized when their owners pass away.
At the time, our beloved fifteen-year-old cat, Chocolate, was being treated at the Veterinary Specialty and Emergency Center. I asked one of the vet techs if she knew of anyone who might take my mom’s cats. She suggested contacting Tabby’s Place in Ringoes, New Jersey, although she thought they only rescued cats from shelters. I wrote an earnest, heartfelt e-mail to Angela Townsend, the Development Director, telling the story of my mom and her “girls.” Angela doubted they would be able to take my mom’s cats, but offered to speak with her board of directors. The thought of not being able to find a home for my mom’s cats was unfathomable, and we were close to losing all hope. A true miracle happened a few days later when Angela called and informed us that Tabby’s Place would be willing to take “the girls.”
My husband and I brought them to Tabby’s Place. What an amazing facility! Tabby’s Place is a cage-free sanctuary that provides impeccable care to cats coming from otherwise hopeless situations. Most of the cats are adoptable, but they may stay there and be cared for their entire lives if not adopted. In a true collaborative effort, volunteers make a huge contribution, and each cat is a cherished member of the Tabby’s Place family.
A few weeks later, I was in my living room when Angela called. She asked if I was sitting down. My heart sank: Was something wrong with one of my mom’s cats? She told me the following story.
A woman had walked into Tabby’s Place inquiring whether they had a pair of cats whose owner had recently been unable to care for them. It was not a common question, for sure. The staff informed the woman that they had three sets of cats meeting that description, each coming from very different circumstances. The woman then asked, “Are any of these cats both female? All my life, I have wanted to have two female cats and name them Thelma and Louise!”
As hard as it is to believe, my mom’s cats were named Thelma and Louise!
The woman did not know this! How could she have? The odds of this are seemingly astronomical. It was improbable that Tabby’s Place would take them at all, doubtful that seven-and-a-half-year-old cats would get adopted, unbelievable that they would be adopted together, and astronomical that the amazing couple who adopted them would be looking for two female cats to name Thelma and Louise!
I hung up the phone with tears streaming down my face and looked up. As I did, I felt my mom say, “You did a great job. I’m so proud of you, honey. I wanted Thelma and Louise to be together in a loving home.” Yup, this was definitely my mom’s work from up above.
In the blockbuster movie Thelma and Louise, the title characters are both strong women, just like my mom. At one point, Thelma says to Louise: “You’re not gonna give up on me, are ya?”
This story is about not giving up. I will forever be thankful that somehow I convinced my mom to keep Thelma and Louise with her for those short weeks. A few days before she passed away, I helped lower her to the floor so she could lie with them and say goodbye.
I am forever grateful to the many people who never gave up on us: To Brooke from VSEC for telling us about Tabby’s Place. To Angela, for being an actual angel and offering Thelma and Louise a new home. And to the anonymous couple who opened their hearts and home to give Thelma and Louise their second act.
~Amie Gordon-Langbein
