I guess it all started with a game of Euchre.
I was visiting my parents in Ohio and had arrived at their house with a carload full of everything I would need for a week’s stay. My microphone and studio equipment to do our show, two canvas totes full of clothes that I wouldn’t wear half of, and while I didn’t exactly count them- likely forty pair of shoes. You know, everything I would need for a week of shenanigans with the family.
The first night ended like most of them do: My family and I sitting around the kitchen table playing a round (or ten) of Euchre until my Mom will fold up her cards and say, “I can’t stay up with you people all night long. I’m going to bed!”
My husband will usually chime in with, “Linda, I’m going too. I can’t stay up like these two.”
Then my Dad and I will usually stay up for at least another hour or so rifling through the cupboards and the refrigerator, me talking the entire time and him not having his hearing aids turned up but eating whatever we happen to find during the rifle.
Yet it was what happened during that card game that really started this (wonderful and sad and expensive and every emotion in between) story into motion. My Dad’s phone kept beeping and blinging and driving us nuts while we played our cards.
We laugh at my Dad because he’s like a teenage girl with his phone. If he’s home, it never leaves his side.
My Mom had enough and said, “Rich, shut that phone off. Who is texting this late?!?! And it’s your turn!”
After she had to repeat it once more (remember the whole hearing aid thing I mentioned?), he replied, “Nobody is texting. Something on the porch keeps setting off the motion alarm.”
“Ohhhhh, maybe it’s a cat!” I said. Half joking, half always hoping. I love cats (as you probably know) and am always hoping my parents will get a little friend to keep their old indoor tabby cat company.
“No, it’s not a cat”, Dad said with a roll of his eyes. Somehow he managed to hear that the first time around. “It was probably a raccoon.”
Just in case, I thought I better investigate. So I jumped up from the table and went to the back door.
“If we’re not playing cards, I’m going to bed.” That was from my Mom. The threat worked only because I didn’t see anything outside and came back to the table. Dad shut the sound off on the phone but before he and I went to bed for the night, he had a few more motion notifications.
Fast forward to the next few nights...
My husband had gone home (we still haven’t merged households or even live in the same state right now but that’s another story for another day) and Mom was taking a bag of trash out to the cans. She came back in the house and let us know that she thought it indeed may have been a cat that was setting off the alarm the other night. “I think I saw a cat when I was back by the garage. It looked long-haired but it ran when I got near it.”
“It’s probably a raccoon.” That was Dad piping in. Somehow again hearing my Mom loud and clear, the first time she said it.
“I better go check.” And out the door in my pajamas I went calling, “Hey kitty…. Hey little kitty…” in my best Cat Mom voice I could. But nothing. No sign of a cat. Or a raccoon, for that matter.
Yet in the morning, Dad’s phone was full of motion alerts.
The next night at dusk, I thought I’d try again. “Hey kitty kitty. Are you out here?”
I tried out by the garage. I called for it around the perimeter of the house. It wasn’t until I was walking back to the porch, giving up for the night, that I heard the tiniest little meow coming from underneath my Dad’s truck.
There, sitting by the tire was a little grey long-haired cat.
Oh my god. A million things went through my head at that moment:
-Whose cat is this?
-What if it’s no one’s cat?
*Meow*
-It’s so sweet.
-Maybe Mom can eventually bring it inside?
*Meow*
-It must be hungry.
-Maybe I could keep it?
*Meow*
-But it has to be someone’s cat.
-How would I keep it when I am leaving in a few days?
-It’s probably thirsty.
*Meow*
-The right thing to do would be to take it to a shelter.
-Will it let me pick it up?
-Should I touch it?
-What if it’s sick?
*Meow*
-Man, is that the cutest little meow I’ve ever heard?!?!
Just then, it moved a little closer and meowed again.
I knew in that moment what must be done. I must FEED THIS STRAY CAT!
I told it I loved it and not to go anywhere because I would be right back. That’s what you do with stray cats, too? Right? You instantly fall in love with them and want to save them and you get prepared to be yelled at by your parents even though you’re a forty year old grown woman, right? Or is that just me?
I went back into the house and immediately Dad met me at the door. “Was it a raccoon?”
“No!” I laughed. “It’s a cat! And it’s so skinny.” Even though I am that grown forty year old woman, I still gave him the same eye roll I probably did when I was fourteen.
Without even a word of what I was about to do, he also starts using his Teenage Daughter Dad Voice all over again and yelling, “NO LAURA, DO NOT FEED THAT CAT! IT WILL NEVER LEAVE!”
Mom had now emerged onto the scene and said, “We can feed it tonight but we’re not keeping it. It is not coming in this house. And we are taking it to a shelter as soon as it will let us put it into a carrier. Unless you want it? But I’ll tell you right now, you’re taking it home with you when you go. That cat is not staying here. Gabby (my parent’s cat) does not need a friend so don’t be getting any ideas.” She’s said all this as she’s scooping some of her cat’s food into a container and I’m making up a water bowl for the kitty.
Meanwhile Dad was stomping around acting like for once in his life, the two of us are about to listen to what he’s telling us.
Everyone then followed me outside but remained on the porch. I walked to the end of the sidewalk and set the food and water down as the cat inched a little closer, meowing at me the whole time. The sweet little thing stayed right where I had left it.
“It’s ok. You can eat. This is for you.” I used my best Cat Mom voice again. Then I slowly inched back to the porch as I saw that hungry, skinny little baby go over and start eating. Then it retreated right back under the parked truck as soon as the bowl was empty.
“We’re not keeping that cat.” Dad repeated, reminding everyone one more time in case we both inherited his hearing disorder in the last few minutes.
Fast forward to the next day…
My little buddy came out from beneath the hostas long enough for me to take his picture close-up and feed him again. I posted it onto the town’s community page wondering if anyone had lost their cat. The responses came in but while some people had seen it around their yards, no one knew where it came from.
I thought I had noticed the kitty breathing a little heavy but it was also hot so I wasn’t sure if its fur coat was making it a little too warm or if something might be wrong. It went back to hide in the shrubbery and meow at me from there before I could really examine him too closely.
Fast forward to later that day…
The neighbor a few houses over saw us outside and came over to say hello. We started talking about the sweet kitty that had been roaming around and low and behold, ask and you shall receive! A tiny little meow came from the corner of the house. Tina (the neighbor) went over and scooped him up before he had a chance to run and when I tell you that this scared little baby turned into a snuggly little baby in her arms, I’m not exaggerating in the least. I bet the kitty would have stayed in her arms all night long.
“Is it a girl or a boy?” Tina asked. Followed by, “Oh my god, I love this cat. It’s so soft and sweet.” Then to her husband, “Do you think we could keep it?”
Like my Dad’s response, that was a very firm NO from him as well. Followed by, “We are not keeping that cat.”
“But I think it’s declawed,” Tina thought feeling around on its little paws. “And is it me or is it breathing heavy?”
I told her I had thought so, too. I was leaving the next day or I would have taken it to the vet and probably kept it. I was already in love.
“You should just take it home with you!” Tina said to me and then added to my mom, “Or Linda, why don’t you keep it? Gabby needs a friend.”
“No Gabby does not need a friend,” my Dad piped in. AGAIN! All of a sudden not needing things repeated AGAIN and AGAIN!
It was official. Everyone was falling in love with this cat. The problem was I was not only leaving the next day to drive back from Ohio to Green Bay, WI but I was going to be immediately dumping out my bags and reloading them to head to our studios in Willmar, Minnesota for radio station events I would be attending.
[Sidenote to those that are new to my saga of a life story….or even those that have been along for the ride: There’s been a lot that’s happened in the last few years. In a nutshell, I still live in Green Bay but I’m on a morning show in Willmar, MN. My co-host is in studio in Minnesota and I am usually in my PJs with bedhead broadcasting from home in Wisconsin. But at the moment, I was in Ohio visiting my parents and doing the show from there. Ok, you’re caught up….]
The neighbors ended up leaving after some “goodbyes” and “see you next times” and the cat disappeared back into the bushes. Mom and I went back inside but out of the window, I saw Dad go fill the cat’s bowl with a little more food.
Sitting around the dinner table that evening, I almost thought I was having a hearing problem. Out of his mouth came the words, “We can’t leave that cat outside all night. If it doesn’t have claws it can’t defend itself. And it’s too nice to be out there anyhow. Find me an old sweatshirt and I’ll get a box to make it a bed. Go bring its food and water in there. Plus, it’s going to need litter. So make up a box for that, too. Then tomorrow we’ll figure out what we’re going to do with this cat.”
I looked at Mom. She looked at me. We dared not rock this boat that all of a sudden had come to a screeching halt. So we just twirled up some more spaghetti and agreed that was a good idea.
As soon as Dad was finished eating, he was up and out the door. That’s when Mom and I both almost simultaneously said: “What is going on with Dad?” “What’s gotten into your Dad?”
Out to the garage I went, sweatshirt in hand. We made a nice little bed for the kitty and all the while left the walk-in garage door open, knowing the cat was within earshot outside.
“You should come in here little baby kitty…”
“Are you hungry, little girl?” (I was just guessing at this point as to its gender).
“Dad is softening a little, baby kitty. You should come in here.” (Luckily, Dad didn’t hear that one because he was bustling around the garage looking for a trash bag to line our make-shift disposable little box.)
Then just like that, the little baby kitty came in. We loved it up and it purred for the first time since I met it. I had half a mind to sleep all night in the garage with it but Dad said it would be fine. Then he added that we’d leave the garage light on so it wouldn’t get scared. So we did.
That night on the phone with my husband, I said to him, “If things were different and I wasn’t leaving tomorrow, and we knew the cat was healthy, and we were settled in a permanent home, could we keep it?”
“Well, it is fluffy.” I knew that was his way of not saying no.
So fast forward to the next morning…
I was up even before my alarm and immediately went out to the garage before daybreak. I half-expected that kitty to come shooting out the door as soon as I opened it but as I walked in, I saw that it had been curled up in its cardboard box and sweatshirt bed. It picked its little head up and stretched and immediately came over and rubbed up against my legs.
“I’m sorry I have to leave, little baby. But you’re going to be ok,” I told the cat even though I didn’t think that I was going to be okay. I felt the tears already forming. I can’t leave this sweet little thing but I also can’t take it with me right now.
My plan was that right after my show was finished for the morning, I was loading my equipment and heading out on the road immediately.
That was my original plan. The plan I had made a week ago. The plan that was made before a little sweetheart wandered up onto my parent’s porch in the middle of our Euchre game.
But what could I do? We didn’t know anything about this cat and mom didn’t want to bring anything (diseases, fleas, etc.) in on her cat until I could make another trip back to get the cat. I had booked so many weddings to officiate in August that I couldn’t make another trip back to their house until at least closer to Labor Day and this was still July!
“Well, we can’t leave the cat in the garage for a month,” Mom thought out loud as I was stalling around. My car was packed and ready to hit the road for a ten hour drive but I was milling around, not wanting to leave.
I had two cats before. Two cats that I loved with every ounce of my being and when Hannah Baby died in 2018 and Mr. Fuzzybottoms died in 2019, I felt a little piece of my heart die with them.
Throughout the last five years, I thought about going to the shelter and finding the next little furry love of my life but I just couldn’t. Everyone that knows me couldn’t believe that I’ve been catless for this long. It is hard to believe, I know. But that’s the thing, it was just too hard for me. I just wasn’t ready.
That’s when Mom reminded me of something I had said many times in the past few years, “You had been saying you can’t make yourself go get another cat so you were just waiting for a stray to come find you. It would waltz up on your porch and you’d open the front door and let it in. You said that.”
Then she motioned to the garage. “Well…”.
That is exactly what I had said many times but here it was her porch and not mine and this wasn’t supposed to be happening right now. And dammit, I was feeling the tears welling up again when the phone rang.
My aunt was calling to see if I made it off on my road trip. So my mom told her what had transpired in the week and why I was still sitting on her porch, stalling for time.
“Well, I have a screened in porch. We can keep it away from my cats. We’ll make a call to the little clinic in town and get it checked out. Then when Laura Lynn comes back in August, she’ll take it home with her!”
I wonder if whatever little guardian angel that guided that cat to find me, stood back in that moment and took a bow.
They hung up and before I could even do the “hugs/kisses/goodbye/call-me-when-you-get-there” thing with my Mom, my aunt was already calling back with a vet appointment booked at a small clinic in town for the very next afternoon.
I peeked into the garage one more time to tell my kitty I loved it and was then on the road.
Fast forward to the next day…
Hurdle #1 was passed with sort-of flying colors. The “girl” I was thinking it might be was actually a boy. And he was not declawed nor was he fixed. She estimated him to be around one-ish. He had a few fleas and ear mites which was almost to be expected but no parasites in his poo, no Feline leukemia, no FIV, a small scar on leg, and a broken tooth that didn’t seem to bother him at all. He was passing the test! His vitals were all great EXCEPT for the one thing that was causing alarm.
The vet couldn’t hear his heartbeat where she should have. However, she could hear it very strongly on the other side where it shouldn’t be at all. It could be a birth defect, she explained. But coupled with the heavy breathing he constantly was doing even in a resting state, she worried about that.
She instructed that since we had no back story on him at all: take him home and watch him for a few days and if the breathing kept remaining labored, take him to their regular vet so that they could do some imaging. She feared he might have been hit by a car or something and his organs might have rolled.
I didn’t know that was even possible. But later that evening, Mom and I discussed that we’d rather have the scan done as soon as possible instead of waiting a few days. So she called her regular vet but there wasn’t an appointment available until mid-August.
That was too long to wait. I will risk bleeding to death and dying myself before I’ll break down and go to the doctors but we both agreed this kitty can’t wait. He has to be seen now. Something is wrong.
So my mom called again the next morning, just to check to see if there was a cancellation. Mom said she was just going to just keep calling each day to see if something opened up in their schedule. What could it hurt?
“We don’t have any openings today, but what exactly is going on with your cat?”, inquired the receptionist.
Mom explained the whole situation and was told to give them a little bit and they’d see what they could do.
Within five minutes, the phone rang again and my mom had an appointment for him to be seen that afternoon. I think that guardian angel was taking another bow.
His x-ray revealed that he had a Diaphragmatic Hernia. I’ve had a hernia surgery myself but this was way different. This can be caused from one of two things: Genetics or Blunt Force Trauma. The vet explained that what has happened is that his heart, lungs, and other organs have pushed through that muscle tear and would need to be surgically placed back where they belong.
That’s a surgery that requires a specialist at a surgical veterinary hospital. This particular vet said while they could send along the x-rays, they don’t perform that surgery there because of the intense nature of it. They did give my mom two options of hospitals they’d recommend: one in the Akron/Cleveland, OH area and one in Pittsburgh, PA. Both were about an hour away from my parents.
She wouldn’t wait on it, explained the vet. While his vitals are good right now, as the organs continue to be constricted and caught in this cavity where they don’t belong, they will stop functioning and he will ultimately die from this.
I was now in Minnesota for work as I took the call from mom explaining that we have to make a decision about what to do.
“Call both and see which one will take him first!” There wasn’t an option in my mind of NOT doing this surgery. We HAVE to save him. He HAS to live.
Mom agreed.
So with my Mom and Aunt in tow, he made the trip to Metropolitan Veterinary Hospital in Ohio. The surgeon decided then and there that he couldn’t wait on this. This was Thursday, August 3, 2023.
“Was it ok to keep him? I’d like to do the surgery tomorrow. He needs this immediately.”
The surgeon had explained that if this was congenital, it would make the surgery a little more complicated. Over time, the organs start to grow into one another when they’re smooshed all together like that and separating the lungs would be tedious.
On the other hand, while awful to think of what he would have endured, if it was caused by blunt force (being hit by a car, by an object, from a fall, being kicked, etc.), it might actually make the surgery a little easier to manage because the organs would likely not be growing together just yet. She wouldn’t be able to tell until she opened him up.
The cost of the surgery would be between $4,000 and $5,000 and that’s required to be paid in full right then. Without hesitation, Mom said she paid it knowing that I would pay her back. So there went another credit card swipe I wasn’t present to make. Mom also knew that I was prepared to move mountains for this stray cat that I just met.
She called me from the parking lot to give me the update. His surgery was happening the next day.
After I hung up with Mom, I called my husband to fill him in. This might make me a bad wife but I left that cost part until the very end. There was a long pause when I got to the price part of the conversation. So to fill the void I said, “Are you mad?” Followed by another really long pause.
Normally, we both approach financial decisions with the same mentality- Do I really need this? Can I wait for a sale? Let’s save as much as we can for a rainy day.
Well, that rainy day was here. And it was pouring Cats & …. well, one cat. One very expensive cat.
If I needed a reason to love him even more, this is what he finally said:
“Ok. While we’ll need money for a down payment sometime soon, we don’t need that five grand tomorrow. But he does.” Another long pause as I started to cry a little. “And by the time we find a house, we’ll have made that back, probably.” I think he was working this all out in his head. “So we’ll just skip Christmas presents this year and you don’t have to get me anything for my birthday.”
Full-on Ugly Cry erupted from me. This is pretty much why I married him.
He has a soft spot for animals just as big as mine. Plus he knows I would never just spend that kind of money on a whim. Like, ever! Yet, that’s exactly what I just did.
Also to be clear, I’m sure the last thing he wanted for his birthday was for me to find a stray cat that when you compounded all the vet bills together that this little fluffy boy had acquired in a few days time, was pushing $6,000.
Yet, here we were. Now just waiting and hoping that this surgery would save him.
Friday, August 3rd was a really long day. I was back from Minnesota now at my Green Bay home. My mom was back at her home in Leetonia, OH. And we waited for the surgeon’s calls.
Friday morning started off with a report that he was in good spirits and all his vitals showed he should be okay for the surgery. His breathing was as labored as it had been but otherwise they were optimistic. Surgery was scheduled for 2pm (central time).
The minutes seemed to crawl by. So S-L-O-W-L-Y…
Then by late afternoon, the phone rang.
The surgeon said he had made it through. His organs were more compacted then she had even realized they would have been. The fact that he was doing as well as he was leading up to surgery is nothing short of a miracle. His lung coloration was more red (as opposed to the healthy pink that they should be) but those little lungs were working overtime. His blood pressure was fluctuating but they would be monitoring him through the night and hopefully that would stabilize as the hours went on. He also just had a very intense surgery so that little heart has also been through a lot. The organs were placed back where they should have been all along and the surgeon closed up the hernia openings internally as well as the outer sutures. Barring no immediate issues, he should be able to live a normal life once he healed up.
She explained that they also might want to keep him an extra day to make sure everything was going to be fine. Instead of a Saturday discharge, they might want to keep him till Sunday. It was too early to tell.
What the surgeon found inside of him makes me sick. He had two openings in the muscle wall. One was 3 centimeters long. The other was a 6 inch opening and that’s where all the organs were pushed through. I don’t know how his little skinny body could have even handled that. He had to be in such pain and discomfort, just merely breathing. Yet he was the sweetest little thing.
The surgeon then said that it was, in fact, not congenital. It was a traumatic injury, caused by outside force and impact.
While I was beyond relieved to get all the successful surgery news and the hear all the things that went right and were positive, I felt a burning sensation in the pit of my stomach.
Maybe this was a freak accident. Maybe that impact happened from a fall. Maybe he got hit by a car and rolled?
But if someone hurt this innocent little guy on purpose, I truly believe that Karma will come for them. There is a place for people who harm animals and I have no doubt that they will end up there. You know who you are and so does Karma.
I couldn’t think about that right now though. I had this little guy that needed us.
Fast forward to the next morning…
I didn’t really sleep Friday night into Saturday morning. I just kept thinking about everything that went right but could still go wrong yet all the while hoping for miracles. He has to be okay. He has to bounce back from this. I was rooting for him. Listeners on our show were rooting for him. Friends and relatives were rooting for him.
Then there was that guardian angel again. The phone rang.
He had come through the night like a champion. Really incredible, they said. His vitals stabilized and they felt confident he’d be able to come home Saturday August, 4th. They said he was keeping the nurses busy all night wanting pets and asking to be loved up. I’m sure they couldn’t resist him. It seems that no one can.
So each day, he’ll be getting a little bit stronger. He’s already eaten and used his litter again. He’s back at my aunts for just a few more weeks until I finally get to bring him home. He will be the most adored little baby boy kitty you can imagine. You can follow along HERE for all the updates.
And I know you’re probably wondering about a name, huh?
My husband always likes short little people names for pets and I always like long extravagant names for pets that make people chuckle. He already has a dog named Oliver and cat named Betsy. My former cats were Hannah Baby and Mr. Fuzzybottoms. So we compromised, kind of.
I’ve had this name actually picked out for awhile and it technically checks both boxes.
I grew up a Cleveland Browns fan and all my life I have loved one particular player the most. His name is Phil Dawson. He played for the Browns when they made their comeback in 1999. He was on the team until 2012 then he went on to play elsewhere. I was really sad when he left. For so many years, every time he took the field to kick that football through the uprights, I was rooting for him. Let’s be honest, for most of the games he played in Cleveland he was usually the only one who could reliably score time and time again. So I loved him. We all loved him. How could you not? He made some legendary field goals and extra points in his day when it came down to the wire. I think he still holds some franchise kicking records and has “The Phil Dawson Rule” named after him.
And now he also has a cat named after him, too.
For most of my youth and adult life, I was rooting hard for Phil Dawson (The NFL Player). Then fast forward to this weekend: I was rooting for Phil Dawson (The Cat) to pull through this surgery. Rooting harder than I’ve rooted for anything in a long, long time.
Just like his namesake, he did not disappoint.
So let me introduce you to the new love of my life. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Phil Dawson.
*To the Metropolitan Veterinary Hospital staff in Ohio: Thank you for taking such good care of my new baby boy cat. He sure appreciated all the attention. I’m sure your days are stressful from morning till night till the next morning again, but every life you save makes you all super special people. I admire the hard work that you do and the kind of people that you are. Thank you so much for the great care.
*To Dr. Christina Cocca from Metropolitan Veterinary Hospital: I wish I could give you a huge hug right now. Thank you for saving my kitty. You’re a miracle worker and I cannot thank you enough. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! He will be loved for many long years now thanks to your skilled hands.
*To my Aunt Vicki: Thank you for calling when you did that day and putting the appointments into motion. You have helped my mom so much and we love you. Phil Dawson loves you, too (except I hear when you try to give him his medicine. I still think he loves you a lot even through that)! I know he’s in good hands until I come to take him home.
*To my fans and listeners: Thank you for embracing me on your radio for so many years. You’ve loved my Hannah Baby and Mr. Fuzzybottoms right along with me and you have shown an overwhelming outpouring of compassion for Phil Dawson already. I can’t even describe how lucky I am to have your love and support, on and off the show. You’ll never know how much that means. Thank you for caring.
*To my Mom: Congratulations on your new grandkitty! I told you he was something special from the moment you saw him that night. I know I put a lot on you to take him to all his appointments and pay all his bills upfront since I wasn’t there to do it in person. We’re fortunate to have you in our lives and I’m so happy you’ll have a kitty to snuggle again when you come for long visits. Phil Dawson already loves you so much. I’ve just been lucky enough to love you longer.
*To my Dad: Thanks for looking out for that sweet boy like you did. I know you love animals as much as I do and I know you just don’t want your heart broken when something happens to them. But when are you just going to trust me from the get-go? I know a good cat when I meet one! Although you’d argue that I think all cats would make good cats to bring inside. You’re probably right. I also know the difference between a cat and a raccoon, for goodness sakes.
But for real, thanks for turning the garage into a kitty condo and leaving the light on for Phil Dawson so he didn’t get scared. He’s lucky to have you as his Papa. I’m glad he melted your heart, too.
*To my dearest friends: Thank you for telling me he was going to be ok and “there is no way he doesn’t make it”. You’ve all heard me cry on the phone so many times now it’s a wonder any of you still answer my calls/messages and talk to me. But I’m sure glad you do. Thanks for living this roller coaster ride with me. You were right! He’s going to be more than okay.
*And to my Husband: Thanks for making space in your heart, in our future house, and in our bed for Phil Dawson. A cat that you haven't even met yet. I know that’s exactly what you wanted for your birthday! It’s actually funny because I joked just a few weeks earlier when you went way out of your way to make my 40th birthday so special. You had one present left that I hadn’t yet opened and I said, “Is it a fluffy cat?”
And do you remember what you said? Because I do. You said: “I wouldn’t pick one out without you. Someday when you’re ready and we’re settled, we can go to the shelter and pick the one you want.”
We are definitely nowhere near settled yet, but if we only knew then what would be finding us in just a few weeks time, no one would have believed it. Some surprises are worth waiting for. Even if it’s only a few weeks.
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He's becoming quite the cat's meow already and he doesn't even know it yet.
Thanks for reading!