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Liz Hamilton-Smith approached me two books ago with an astonishing story about her cat Sox who, I quickly came to realise, was one of those cats who manifested a will to live that was nothing short of heroic and his human companions exhibited some pretty stoic behaviour too.
Liz, whose story this is, says that the action probably started around the time that Sox was nine months old at which point a dainty tortoiseshell kitten called Tibbi entered his household and his life. Very quickly the two young cats became inseparable companions and did all manner of things together that are uniquely entrancing to members of the family Felidae, both in and out of the house. Their house was on a quiet lane surrounded by woods and so everyone assumed they would be safe but tragedy struck late one evening when the cats were apparently both hit by a neighbour?s car, or so thought the driver at the time.
?Fortunately our neighbours alerted us and a very frightened, but unharmed Tibbi came home. Sox, however, simply disappeared. We hunted high and low to no avail. Broken-hearted I gave him up for dead as I had heard that injured cats often take to the undergrowth to die. Seven days after his disappearance I came down in the morning to find him at the back door with a lacerated leg half hanging off.
How he survived the pain and lack of water (it had been bone dry for several weeks) to me is still a mystery.?
The local vet saved his leg but he had to be confined to one room for six weeks and separated from his best pal, Tibbi. Liz says that, on the advice of a close family friend who really understood cats, to try to calm him and divert him during this time she introduced a TV into the room in which he was incarcerated, which did help, and eventually he was reunited with Tibbi.
Liz adds: ?He never went near a car again?.
A vet that I used to see some years ago, who was both old and I always felt very wise, told me that in his experience the cats who live longest around roads are those who have had one accident of some kind that is sufficiently traumatic to make them become seriously wary of cars. He said that most cats have a curious tendency until they have been injured to believe that they are in some way invincible much as young children do.
Liz continues: ?Sadly our next ordeal was not far away and came quite unexpectedly in the form of a demented ninety year-old woman, a neighbour, who unbeknown to us disliked cats and squirrels and made a habit of trapping them and then drowning them in her water butt.?
To the profound distress of Liz and her family their beloved little Tibbi, at the age of just seven months and not yet fully grown, apparently became one of this woman?s victims.
?Sox mourned the loss of his little soulmate for many weeks and it was quite pitiful to watch him searching for her. He never again bonded with any of the other cats he shared his home with and he became a loner and aloof.?
As to the neighbour responsible for this atrocity ?the R.S.P.C.A. were unable to prosecute her on the grounds of old age and diminished responsibility. Suffice it to say that until her death a few years later she didn?t touch another animal.?
Sox lived in great contentment within his multi-pet environment over the next twelve years, sharing his space with three dogs, four other cats, a goldfish and a family of foxes but at the age of thirteen he developed cataracts. This was the beginning of conflicting veterinary recommendations with one vet saying leave well alone for the cataracts to ?mature? and another, an experienced veterinary ophthalmologist at a reputable animal hospital, saying because of his age the prognosis was not good and that he should have been treated sooner.
?I rapidly began to feel negligent and guilty. Should I have done something sooner?? Liz agonised.
During this period Sox also started to have trouble moving his hind legs, which initially Liz thought might be arthritic but it transpired that there was a different problem and as a result Sox ended up in the intensive care unit of the animal hospital. And so began a dramatic change in the lifestyle of both Sox and Liz, which was to endure for the next two years.
?Whilst he was in the care of the animal hospital he was administered with an excessive dose of antibiotic capsules that were too large in size, which resulted in a ruptured oesophagus requiring intricate reconstructive surgery to the throat. A wonderful team of surgeons took three and a half hours to perform the delicate operation. The next few months, which proved to be critical for Sox, were spent in and out of intensive care on seventeen different occasions. He was a hugely popular patient with all the veterinary and admin staff. His great courage and will to survive was extraordinary.?
And finally Sox came home but ?as his nursing needs at home were also intensive and round the clock, I moved into the guest room with him and the TV for the remainder of the summer and the autumn. His recovery was long and arduous and he put up with all sorts of indignities that cats simply hate.
However, survive he did, much to everyone?s surprise and it was during these two years that we got to know each other totally?.
I subsequently discover from Liz that this intensive nursing was unremittingly day and night and she had to do everything for this cat, including in the early stages peg feeding him through a tube into his stomach, but she tells me that what moved her most during this intensive nursing was his courage and his ability to put up with it all. She did, however, have to learn to live with a new habit he developed during this time and which he maintained for the rest of his life.
During the night time when he wanted feeding, which at this stage was two hourly, he would tap the bedside light to wake Liz up. If she did not wake up he would continue until he knocked the lamp over. A cat who meant business. The travail sadly was not over for poor Sox, as at this stage he also became diabetic and so insulin dependent, requiring two daily injections.
?God works in mysterious ways and it was in the early days after surgery that I was guided to our homeopathic vet at Potters Bar, who works closely with a spiritual healer. I am still convinced that Sox?s amazing recovery was greatly accelerated through Helen?s healing hands and as a regular visitor he loved seeing her because whilst with her nothing unpleasant happened to him. His great personality endeared him to everyone and he was always warmly greeted with treats and lots of fuss. All of which he loved of course! To my joy, by the end of autumn he was self-feeding and his diabetes was firmly under control. Having looked like a coat hanger for several months he was now also back to his normal weight; quite an achievement for a 15-year-old cat. The time had now come for him to face the outside world again. My feelings at seeing him in his home and garden enjoying life once more are indescribable.?
One of the many remarkable things about the story of Sox is, Liz tells me, that on one occasion the healer, Helen, told Liz most emphatically that Sox was suffering a severe headache which Liz now believes was early warning that his eye problem was returning and on another she admonished Liz with: ?Sox is really pissed off because you promised him that he could go out in the garden.?
?But I am worried he will wander too far and he is not strong enough to go distances?.
?Let him out, you will see he will be fine. Just trust him.?
And so grabbing her courage in both hands, Liz did as she was told.
?He now no longer ventured too far and he started to live the life of a contented semi-retired pensioner, still very much the patriarch of his household, all of whom had become very protective of him.?
And so the venerable Sox spent a few happy weeks back in his old familiar surroundings, but sadly not for very long.
?My pleasure at Sox?s recovery was once more short lived. Although his eyes were being monitored, treatment was now out of the question because of his diabetes. His eyesight was deteriorating and a ruptured lens required surgery to remove the eye in order to save his life.?
Liz was assured that cats could live very happily with one eye and could adapt to the changes it would require and that his operation had been successful. Sox came home and recovered well and took everything that had happened to him in his stride.
?The lab report told a different tale. An invasive tumour had already penetrated the soft tissue around the eye and the prognosis was poor, and only a matter of time.?
Sox became unwell shortly after this and also appeared to be in pain or at least discomfort. Liz did not want to believe the dismal diagnosis and took Sox to an eminent neurologist who gave him an M.R.I. scan and who, with the results in front of her in black and white, had the unenviable task of confirming to Liz that their worst fears were to be realised.
?Sox was indeed dying and at some speed. His luck and ours had finally run out. We agreed to release him from his pain and let him go, but even then the will to live remained with him until the very last?I cannot describe with what difficulty I said goodbye to that stoic and brave friend and faithful companion?.
Liz had called her original account about her special boy ?The story of Sox - simply the Best?, but I reckon it should be called ?Stand by your Cat? and I want lessons from her.
Here he is:
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