What Mercy Showed Me
A word from our founder, Laurie Green

Mercy died the first Saturday in April. KJ found her upon waking up and going into our office. The cause of death was most likely Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy, which is a thickening of the heart muscles - causing a decrease in the size of the chambers of the heart. This "diagnosis", while not verified by an autopsy, came from my anguished call to Dr. Barrett at Pet Med. All of her routine veterinary exams were normal. But one clinical sign of this disease is sudden death. When we turned in the night before all of our pets were safe and secure. But there are things you just cannot protect them from.

Mercy was rescued from my church. Several years ago we had heard meowing coming from the vents during church service. I was not going to leave before finding the source of those meows. And with the help of several church members we found, and pulled from a warm prison where she had become trapped, Mercy. The next day she went to our veterinary clinic for a complete check-up, and she was spayed later in the week. When she was firmly in place as a family member, her true personality came out. Shall we say that Mercy no longer was the name that most described her? She proceeded to stake claim on our office. And she only allowed a select few of our other cats into her domain. I would not describe her as a loving cat, for she most definitely was not. You were okay as long as she jumped into your lap. But picking her up or even petting her was not a safe approach - to rename her "Demon Cat" did cross my mind on more than one occasion. And I don't know how to explain how much I loved her to anyone but another cat person. Cats just do not know appreciation and I long ago accepted that. So I didn't expect that from her. She had fought her way to survive for about 3 years before I found her so how could I expect her to just bow down at my feet? That simply isn't feline reality. But she did seem to love the home we provided for her. She had her blanket on a table that was directly under our office window and she would get inpatient each morning if the blinds weren't opened in Mercy time. She would sit up on the blanket and meow, maybe yowl is more apropos, looking in my direction until I opened her window that allowed her to look out into her new world. Then she would be content.

And then on that Saturday morning, she was no longer with us. When I heard KJ's voice waking me from a deep sleep I knew something was dreadfully wrong. All I could do for a long time was just hold the body that was Mercy and cry. The body she left behind seemed so empty. We searched our brains for signs we might have missed. But there just weren't any. The fact of the matter was simply that Mercy had died. The way she lived, on her terms and on her time. That Sunday we buried her in the back of the church where she was found. It seemed appropriate. Kelly and Paul dug her grave, and Pastor Dot said a prayer for her. And if you have never known the love of a pet, that may all seem a bit over the top. In which case I would have to feel sorry for you. Mercy showed me that it just isn't about what you get; it is about what you give. But we shall miss her very much.