Biscuits was such a gentle, special, feral cat who came to me in the fall of 2016, peering into my apartment through the window. She frequently made biscuits while sitting on the window ledge, so we named her Biscuits. I started feeding her, and when it got below 0 degrees one night in January 2017, me and my friend Diana lured her into my home with a tuna trail and shut the door. I kept her inside ever since.|
She grew to enjoy her life as an indoor cat but she never let me touch her. I came close a few times, but she would always run away. I knew she wanted love and affection so much, though, and she would always try to nuzzle the other cats, especially Fluffy, who she was in love with. I wanted to badly to give her the love she sought, but she didn't trust humans.
She spent a lot of time in seclusion -- in the bottom drawer inside a closet, under the couch, places where she felt safe. She came out more and more, though, but still, no touching was allowed. Years went by and I kept hoping she'd come around, but eventually resigned myself to the fact that this was how it would always be.
Then, everything changed last October. I heard strange sounds in my basement and went downstairs to discover Biscuits dragging her back legs around the floor and moaning in pain. I took her to the emergency vet at 1 am on a Saturday night/Sunday morning and found out she had a spinal cord injury and bladder infection. The injury was rare for cats and we have no idea how it happened. They told me she would most likely never walk again and asked if I wanted to put her down. I did not want to give up on her, so I brought her home and had a follow up visit with my vet.
For months, my vet Kim and I worked hard to keep Biscuits alive as she faced issue after issue stemming from the paralysis, most notably not being able to use the restroom on her own, and Kim teaching me how to express a cat's bladder, which is not easy. My whole schedule and life were centered around her care and keeping her alive. So many vet visits, medicines, special foods, helping her express her bladder, doing leg exercises with her, and more. It was a lot of work, but I would gladly have done it for years.
The amazing thing that came from this tragedy and hard work -- Biscuits learned to trust me and accept my love and affection. I finally got to touch her after all those years! Within a week of the injury I was petting her, and a month after that she was my lap cat. Spending night after night on the couch with me, getting kisses on the forehead and gentle caresses.
We developed the most beautiful bond. She was my baby Biskies. We had an amazing journey of pure love, where she learned to accept my love and affection and I learned that I was capable of giving so much of myself to another living creature. I never had children because I always thought of myself as too selfish to give so much of my time and life to another living thing. But she taught me I had that kind of love within me, and how rich and rewarding that kind of love could be.
We celebrated so many highs and lows during those four and a half months. My friend Amy surprised us with the amazingly generous gift of a pet wheelchair which gave Biskies some newfound freedom and pride. She started sleeping in my bed in the last week and a half she was with me, and we got even closer. She loved resting her head on my arm, nuzzling as much as she could, trying to get as close as she could be to me.
Another tragic accident took her from me the evening of February 17. I wasn't ready to lose her, and still can't believe she's gone. She has left an overwhelming void in my life and I'm struggling to readjust. We became so close and I miss her beyond words. I long to feel the weight of her on my lap, to feel her head on my arm, to kiss her forehead, to carry her up and down the stairs, to care for her, to love her, to be loved by her.
I'll never forget you, my sweet baby Biskies. Thank you for coming to my window and into my life. I hope you're running and jumping and free from pain. I will always love you.