Spotlight: Permanent Cat 1/6 - PUMBA!

My goal is to introduce our own 6 cats one at a time, and hopefully one each day this week so I don't just keep putting it off.

This is Pumba!  Pumba is currently 8 years old.  He is the first cat I ever owned.  When I was growing up, we always rented, so I was never allowed to have a cat.  When I decided to move into an apartment for my senior year of college in 2005, I only considered those that allowed cats, and as soon as I moved in, we went to the Dane County Humane Society in Madison, Wisconsin.  My lease stipulated that cats have to be declawed, and at the time, there were only 2 declawed cats at the shelter.  While Pumba, named Benton at the shelter, was a little scared and cautious, he was a beautiful cat and I adopted him.

Within a few days, it was clear that Pumba was very sick.  He had a very bad URI, an incredibly high fever, and wasn't eating.  About $600, an overnight stay at the vet, and an emergency vet visit later, he recovered.  It was a crash course in cat ownership.

It just so happened that during the time when it was just me and Pumba, I went through an episode of depression.  Things had been off for awhile, and my then-boyfriend-now-husband knew that something was seriously wrong with me when I said I regretted getting a cat and I didn't want it anymore, when I wanted a cat my entire life.  After months of struggling and Pumba at my side, I made it out of the hole I was in, just in time to adopt a second cat from DCHS - Pookie.

While this post is about Pumba, they went hand-in-hand for a long time, though never bonded.  I adopted Pookie when she was 15 years old and she was an "office cat" at the shelter - meaning she stayed in someone's office instead of in a cage.  She was sweet, but also a vicious food hound and liked to pick on Pumba.  A lot of his neuroses today are because of her.  Pumba loved to play fetch with a certain kind of jingle ball, even brought it back to me after I threw it, and used to sleep on my pillow every night.  When Pookie joined our household, she stole everything from him - food, toys, etc.  He now walks away when other cats come near him while playing or eating, even if I'm trying to give him a treat or some chicken.  He would follow her around to keep an eye on her.  He would still come in bed with me when I first laid down, but after a few minutes he would leave to go watch her.  He has just never gotten over it and he's a coward now.

I left Pookie and Pumba with my mom in Iowa when I moved to New York, because I was under the impression that cats weren't allowed in my husband's apartment (which turned out to be false, his roommate was quite a character).  A few years later, when Pookie was 17, she developed diabetes and her health spiraled very quickly.  She lost all interest in eating and withered away, and was peeing everywhere but her litter box.  After a very long discussion with my trusted vet, we decided not to treat her diabetes, since she was so old that daily (or more) injections of insulin would be unkind to her.  A week or two after that discussion, Pookie had given up completely and my mother had her euthanized with my permission.  I will always regret not being with her when we let her go, and now that I know more about feline diabetes, I sometimes wonder if we gave up too easily.  She had a great life with us though in the few years we had her, and that is the best we can hope for when an older senior ends up at a shelter.

A few months later, my fiance and I went back to Iowa to get married.  We packed up Pumba and took him on the 20-hour car ride back to New York with us (with breaks, of course!).  It was unpleasant for all of us, since Pumba has bad carrier anxiety, but we all made it in one piece and he was so happy to be back with me that he forgave us as soon as we let him out of the carrier in his new home.

While Pumba never really bonded with any other cats, despite so many to choose from that came through our doors, he will occasionally play with Dusty and Bobby, and that makes me happy enough.  He is my boy and won't let me forget it!  He knows 4 words - Pumba, Pookie, ball, and down.  Pumba is the only cat I ever managed to train "Down!" when he was up on a desk or counter that he shouldn't be.  Anyone who comes to our house either falls into Team Dusty or Team Pumba.  And I have to say, recently Team Pumba has the most members!