Rollie died this morning...

Billie Rose: Rollie was the cutest cat in the world. I would always ask Teddy to get me a puff ball, I would always ask him to get me Rollie but if he couldn't find Rollie I would ask him to get me Pollie. And if he couldn't find Pollie I would ask him to get me Pogo. But if he couldn't find Pogo I would ask him to get me Rollie. He was really sweet and we basicly named him Rollie because he rolled in your hand when he was a kitten. He also would roll off his mother's back. I am going to miss Rollie.


Teddy: Rollie was a sweetie Pie. When he was a baby he used to roll around on his back and on his tummy. He was always so cute and puffy. He loved the laundry basket up on top of our dryer. He loved our big window, he loved the little kitty beds and he loved sleeping in the closet. He just loved everyone. I am glad he was alive. Bye.

Rollie came into this world in a cage in our basement. He was born to a feral mom who was trapped by Forgotten Cats and slated for TNR (trap, neuter and rerelease.) She was pregnant and birth seemed imminent so they called us and we brought her to our home to have her babies. Mama was not happy about this situation and she did something peculiar to cats, she stopped labor several times over the next two weeks. We were beginning to worry that she might do herself and her babies harm but fortunately she was only carrying two kittens. One morning I went downstairs to take care of her and heard the little squeaks of the newborn kittens. The two puff balls were a good size for newborns and grew well. Mama was a good mother and somehow, despite her own feral nature, knew that we cared and let me and the kids handle the kittens. The kids named the two little puff balls Rollie and Pollie.

Rollie and Pollie were soon joined by 4 adopted siblings. The next four kittens were born about 2 weeks later in a trap. They and their mother, Cinders, were not in good shape. The four kittens were significantly smaller and Cinders refused to clean them. She wasn’t cleaning herself either and was very underweight. She was very impatient about nursing her kittens and alternately rejected one or more of them. These kittens started losing weight so we began supplemental bottle feeding. Cinders was looking healthier better under our care and as she began to feel better she became more aggressive. One day, when I was trying to clean her litter box, she attacked her kittens. I franticly grabbed the kittens while Cinders hissed and bit me and having no time and no where else safe, I dropped the kitten into the cage with Rollie, Pollie and Mama. Mama took one look at these ill kept motley kittens. shook her head and began cleaning them. She lovingly nursed and cared for all six until they grew too big and become more rambunctious and Mama started to look like she needed prosac. By this time they were eating solid food as well so we weaned them all and brought them upstairs and they joined our growing family of cats.

Cinders went back to her controlled colony but I held onto Mama. I wanted to do something for her, give her more of a life, more security and care than she would get back out in a colony. She now lives free in the house with the all the other cats. She is an indoor feral. I am sure she will never behave like a pet but she seems quite content. The other cats all get along with her. She stays out of the way of people but you can see her sunning herself quietly in the window. And sometimes, around 2 or 3 am when she comes into the kitchen to eat, we will encounter each other. She blinks and doesn’t run unless I try to approach her...

Rollie was just under a year old.
About a month ago, I noticed that Rollie had lost an alarming amount of weight and was acting very lethargic. I had not noticed the weight loss before because of all that long black fur. And neither Rollie nor Pollie are lap cats. They have never liked being picked up. Now, too week to run off, I picked up Rollie and was quite alarmed. I brought him to the vet. He had a fever, was dehydrated and dramatically underweight. Although he was tested when he was neutered, the vet tested him again for Feline Leukemia and Feline Aids. Thankfully, he tested negative for both. However, she suspected he might have FIP (feline infectious peritonitis.) There is no test for FIP, it is usually diagnosed post mortum. There is also no cure. FIP is refereed to as a “wasting disease” and the cat or kitten, will die within weeks. After a course of subcutaneous fluids she sent us home with antibiotics, hoping for the best. At first we thought Rollie was doing fine and perhaps did not have this dreaded disease. He perked up, was running around with the other cats, eating and using the litter box. Then, last Tuesday evening, I noticed that he had developed a warble when he walked. I decided I would bring him to the vet the next day, we were on our way out to classes and concerts all evening. When we got home Rollie looked worse. By 2 am he could not lift the lower half of his body and was acting frantic. I rushed him off to the emergency clinic. There they did some blood tests which were pretty much inconclusive. However, based on his behavior, among other things, they said his prognosis was not good. They gave me antibiotics, steroids and an appetite enhancer. Though they held out some hope that he might respond to the meds, we really believed I was bringing him home so everyone could say their goodbyes.

Rollie perked up again, not looking well but improving a bit everyday. We actually started to believe that he had some more time, some more life in him to live. And I guess he did, he had a week. This morning at about 4:30 am the other cats woke me up early. I fed them and noticed that Rollie did not come around. He always joined the other cats, even if he didn’t eat. I found him, groggy, in his favorite bed. I brought him to the food, he did not eat. He walked to the kitty water fountain, looked at it but did not drink. I picked him up and carried him to the sofa. I covered him in a blanket in my lap and he sat there for a bit, purring and being very affectionate. Then he wanted to get down and walked back to his bed. I fell asleep for about five minutes when I heard one of the cats howling. It was Boo.
Boo has been Rollie’s constant companion ever since Rollie got sick. He would curl up in the cat bed with Rollie, offering much needed warmth to Rollie’s now feathery frame. He would clean Rollie and chase the other cats away if they got too rambunctious around Rollie. Now, Boo was howling. I walked into the room and he was sitting beside Rollie’s bed. All the other cats had formed a semicircle and were looking on. I went to Rollie and lifted his head. His pupils were fixed and dilated. He gasped out a final breath and died at 5 am, his head in my hand.