Friday, July 2, 2010


I will be leaving this blog in its original state for people to read about Neala and our experience with PRAA. I am simply heartbroken over all of this and appreciate all of your support.

After much thought, I have decided to send a letter to the vet hospital about her care. There is one key thing that should not have happened and I feel inevitably led to her death- and that was feeding her a rather solid wet canned food immediately after this delicate surgery. Since her breathing was not compromised before the surgery, it is evident this compaction of food in her esophagus that led to her death occured while at the Center. This compaction of food probably would have been avoided if they had fed her the appropriate Science Diet A/D, watered down, versus regular Science Diet Kitten Food. I cannot allow this mistake to happen again to someone else's baby further down the road.

Here is the follow-up blog to Gotta Have Faith...

Thursday, July 1, 2010

At the Bridge

"Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there, I did not die."

At 2:17 AM this morning, I received a call from the Veterinarian Surgical Center of Utah. I knew it was bad before I answered the phone because you don't receive pre-dawn phone calls for no apparent reason.

The tech said quickly in hushed tones that Neala's breathing had worsened and they were trying to intubate her, but they were having a difficult time doing so. As she spoke, I think the situation changed for she said they were beginning CPR on Neala.

She asked if I could drive down there immediately and I did.

Neala was gone before I arrived... Her tiny body simply could take no more. They tried CPR, but her heart would not restart. She was ready to go to the Rainbow Bridge and like any other tortie, she decided when she was ready and she did it.

There are a million things I could say... Out of all of the outpouring of support, it is still a uniquely singular feeling to lose a pet you have loved. I was all alone in that room, the room we had visited Neala in before, holding her and rocking her, our little baby girl.

I asked on my drive back to the hotel why didn't we get any miracles? Why couldn't we simply get a miracle?

And yet, the answer came to me- we did. Neala and I had you. All of you.

From Amanda, Coury, and Szandora, to the Jacki, to Sammi, who talked to me incessantly on my cell phone as I held her tiny body and rocked, to the Catblogosphere who enveloped Neala, no questions asked, from the moment they read of her plight. To the people who volunteered their money for her surgery, to the people who volunteered their time looking for surgeons, to the people who sent us their love and prayers. We had our miracle- and it was found it all of you.

For you, the unknown people, to wrap Neala, not a stray found on the streets, but a baby Sphynx born into my hands, into your hearts- for you to wrap her into your lives as all of you have done- that was our miracle.

Thank you, from me, and from my little angel... Thank you all.

What can we ask of you in this time of need? Remember the symptoms of Persistent Right Aortic Arch, for those who breed- remember, these are lives we chose to bring into this world and we are responsible for them.

To my Neala... My little spunky, funny, sweet girl... Thank you for giving me the gift of your purr. Thank you for touching so many hearts. Thank you, sweet little girl, for reminding us all to continue to fight the good fight for all animals on this earth.

"Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die."