I Miss My Meow Alarm Clock as Danny Girl Taylor Crosses the Rainbow Bridge

On Monday morning, July 21, 2014, 18 months to the day that she had been diagnosed with bronchogenic carcinoma, my beautiful, precious, one-of-a-kind, unique, smart, manipulative Danny Girl was ready to take her journey to the Rainbow Bridge. When I awoke she was staring at the water fountain -- not drinking, just staring. And she was allowing Pacey Jack to sit inches behind her, something she never did.  If there were any thoughts in my head at all that this might not be happening, they were quashed by the sight of her staring at the water fountain.

Yesterday, every time she lapped up some tuna water, she vomited it up. So her living on tuna water had turned to her not being able to keep that down. As broken as my heart was, it was now up to me to keep my promise that I would not let her suffer just to keep her with me.

I had tried so hard in the last few days to change Danny's mind. Within the last couple weeks, she had slowly rejected taking her medicines and supplements, starting with the ones she liked least and keeping the one she liked best, only rejecting it on the last day. I knew what was keeping her alive were the holistic supplements, the Chinese herbs tea pill and Mush, a mushroom blend of 4 mushrooms. The prognosis for bronchogenic carcinoma is so poor, nobody expected her to live more than a couple of months, but the holistic supplements helped her have 18 good months. Because Danny never looked or acted sick. If it weren't for her cough and for the abandoning of her once very, very alpha behavior, you would not even guess she was sick. And if she had been better at taking the various supplements Dr. Sally Lane had wanted to try, I believe she could have lived much longer.

A selection trying to get her to eat in the last days
 

But Danny was stubborn, from beginning to end, and when she said no to a medicine, there was just no making her -- no fooling her, no trick that she didn't figure out, no war of wills she didn't win.

Then she stopped eating, so on Friday, I essentially brought her to her holistic vet to be euthanized. It was a last ditch attempt to see if Dr. Lane could think of anything else for her, but I begged my friend Michael Herman to come with me, so I wouldn't have to face alone what I thought needed to be done. He took this photo of Danny and me in the waiting room of Sherman Oaks Vet Clinic:

At the Clinic
 

But, like always, Danny Girl looked so good, Dr. Lane thought that maybe she stopped eating because her tummy was hurting her, not because she didn't want to fight the lung cancer any more. So with the help of fluids for dehydration, a vitamin D shot, and a pill (which by the way she fought the technician giving her, twice, without and with the pill shooter), we gave her the weekend to rally.

But it was not to be. On Saturday, she rejected all food and would only take the tuna water, and on Sunday, as I said earlier, she couldn't keep the tuna water down.

So today, I made the call to Blue Cross Pet Hospital to bring her to Dr. Jones who has overseen her health for 16 and a half years. During the day, I'd pick Danny Girl up and hold her, telling her I loved her and she always purred. Then an hour before we were due to leave, I stopped working completely and held her on my lap so that we could have that time together. Danny was the proverbial "I'll give you two minutes and I'm out of here" girl, but she stayed on my lap, purring and cuddling for the entire hour.  I took that as her saying goodbye, and thank you for the good life, and I love you.

I didn't want Danny's last thoughts to be on the sterile room in the vet office, so once the catheter was in her leg, I cuddled her and talked to her for about 5 minutes before I said we were ready. So cradled in my arms, at 4:45 pm I felt the life leave Danny Girl's body as she went to the Rainbow Bridge.

It wasn't fun to hold her lifeless body but I felt honored and grateful that she had waited until I could be there to hold her, that she wanted me to hold her, and help her start her journey.

So let me tell you now what made Danny Girl so unique and precious that I would do all this for her. Let me tell you of all the wonderful ways she enriched my life and how she took care of me in ways no other kitty has ever done.

From the day I met her, Danny Girl was the smartest and most manipulative cat I have ever met. She stole my heart by climbing into my lap in Flo's living room and falling asleep.  I knew then I had to bring her home with me. But as a ten-week old kitten, she was the runt and she wasn't particularly cute. She looked more like a rat with her tiny head and bigger body. Her brother and sister were much cuter and Flo told me to take one of them. But Danny had already wormed her way into my heart. And my ugly duckling soon grew into a beautiful mostly Maine Coon smoke swan. And after that day, after she had me hooked, she never fell asleep in my lap again. The first indication of how well she could manipulate us.



Danny Girl reclaims her own suggesting she was still strong
 

A few weeks before her passing, Danny gladdened my heart by reclaiming her perch on top of the cat tree. Danny Girl was also an extremely alpha kitty. Once when she was a kitten, I took her to my friend Marnie Strom's house where 6 big adult cats resided. Danny found the prime litter box in a pantry room and claimed it for herself, despite being a visitor and a mere waif to much bigger cats. And after a week's visit, Marnie called Danny somewhat of a bully. I couldn't disagree.

Danny would never let Pacey Jack up on the top perch of the tree -- he had to take the second position, always.  She never let him on her basket, not inside nor on top. It was like she just tolerated him living in her house and as long as he played by her rules, she was okay with him sharing the house, but not her basket or her top perch.

A rare photo of Danny Girl near Pacey Jack
 

She manipulated Pacey as well. Normally if he tried to sit beside her, she'd leave, but every once in a while, she'd let him stay. And as soon as she was sure he was settled in, she'd leave. It used to be so heartbreaking seeing Pacey wait patiently for her to return. Because I knew she never would.

So when I was going to adopt Mischief Kirk at 10 weeks old, one friend worried if she'd kill it. Another assured me they'd work it out. Sure enough, Danny's mothering instincts kicked in and she became friends with the kitten. She would let him do things she never let Pacey -- like share her basket.

Danny Girl and Mischief Kirk sharing basket
 

Almost every day Danny Girl and Mischief could be found at some point sleeping on a tier of the basket at the same time. But they would also switch off which one was on top and which one was inside. She was also okay with Mischief sharing her top tier of the cat tree. Pacey was never allowed on the top tier and he only managed to get up there after she got sick. And once he started sitting up there, she never returned to it... it broke my heart because I'm sure Danny knew she'd have to fight for it, and this time she'd lose.




Danny withdrew from confrontation so I don't think Pacey Jack ever realized she was no longer alpha kitty. Well, Danny still had the heart of an alpha kitty, but when she'd hiss, she'd cough, which broke my heart and I'm sure signaled to her, she'd better not fight. But till the moment she died, she had attitude and stubbornness.



Mischief Kirk and Danny Girl eating side by side
 

Mornings were often my time with Danny. She would always wake me up a couple of minutes before the alarm went off.  And she learned to roll with the time changes when I would alter my schedule and start getting up earlier or later.  That’s how smart she was. It was also the time she'd jump up on the bed to say hello to me.  Many times I awoke to find her on top of me, if the boys weren't around. She was never one to spend more than a few minutes on top of me when I was sleeping.

After she woke me up, she'd follow me into the bathroom, where she'd wait until I sat on the toilet and then she'd jump to my lap, then my shoulder and then walk across me to the counter and to her water bowl -- she never wanted to use the fountain. I don't think she liked filtered water because when she was a kitten she did like to drink straight from the tap.

Mischief Kirk and Danny Girl sharing a moment

When she was a baby, I was a trampoline to her. Every night once I got into bed, she’d come in with her favorite fluffy white mouse in her mouth, climb up on top of me, toss the mouse into the air, leap into the air and come down on me like a trampoline. Then she’d repeat this until I caught her mouse and put it under my pillow. Then she go and retrieve another toy, climb back up on me, toss it in the air, leap, catch,  etc. etc. until I caught it and put it under the pillow. This would continue until every one of her toys were under my pillow.  The last toy she would bring would be her feather on the stick and you could hear her coming, running at full speed with the feathers in her mouth and the stick clanging as it hit the walls.  Obviously she couldn’t toss that into the air, so I’d get that easy and put that under the pillow. Of course, the stick would stick out from the pillow but she never argued that the game was over. After all, there was always the next night, when everything would get repeated.

I let her take her favorite mouse with her… of course, 16 years later, her white fluffy mouse didn’t look much like a mouse – more like a skinned blob.

Mischief never questioned Danny's alpha station
 

Danny Girl didn't need to do anything else to endear herself to me, but she did anyway. She was always there to take care of me when I was sick. Somehow she always knew. But what was absolutely amazing was how she reacted to me getting diagnosed with sleep apnea, something I'm sure I inherited from my Dad (a story for another day). I'm somewhat claustrophobic -- so much so that I always worried that if my big acting break came in the form of playing a vampire where the coffin closes over my head, I might not be able to do it.

So no matter how often my doctor assured me I couldn't suffocate with the CPAP full mask covering my mouth and nose, my claustrophobia didn't believe him. In fact, it took all my willpower and determination to squelch that claustrophobic reaction and wear the mask to bed.

One of Danny Girl's favorite places - no other cat invited
 

Every night, Danny Girl got up on my chest and lay there looking at me, and stayed there. It was as if she were saying, 'don't worry, I won't let it harm you, I will knock it off before it can suffocate you.' She did this every night until I got used to wearing the mask and then she never did it again.

Because cats don't like the steady stream of air coming out them. The boys won't go near the mask. Pacey Jack is like a speeding bullet getting on top of me when the mask comes off, but until then, never. I'm sure he knows the sound difference between on and off. I've learned that they hate the air blowing on them because that's how mama cats discipline their kittens. And I've found that it is the most effective way to discipline my cats, better than water or yelling, just blow on them.

Danny and Mischief on the bed together
 

But Danny was willing to brave the unpleasant blowing air when I needed her.  And one night, she screeched until I woke up and took notice.  My air hose had popped off the machine.  Only time it did that and only time she screeched at me like that.

Yes, I'm going to miss my exceptional, super-smart, manipulative, loving, irreplaceable, caring, caretaker Danny Girl. Her absence leaves a hole in my heart that I'm sure I'll never fill.

Now she rests on the top of my bookcase in my bedroom where she can continue to watch over me and I can see her every day. Next to her is the card I got from her vet with a lock of her hair so I'd never forget the smoke coloring of her soft long fur... and her paw prints.

The place where Danny Girl rests.

I'd say R.I.P, my beloved Danny Girl, but I'm hoping and praying that you are romping around in joy at the Rainbow Bridge, not resting at all. I hope you are raising hell like the alpha kitty you have always been... at least until I see you again.