In Loving Memory: Keely
Sunday, February 10, 2008
By: Marsi (Chambers) Thrash

A shy feline earns her place in a home and heart

I became Keely’s foster mom in the summer of 1997, hoping to bring her out of her shell.  She came out about an inch—a very sweet, eager-to-please girl, but also very leery of people. She and her five kittens had arrived at Animal Friends that May, and five-year-old Keely was the only one who hadn’t been adopted yet, probably because she was almost feral.

She spent most of her time tucked into a pile of towels in my linen closet, darting out only to gobble food and visit the litter box.  Perhaps that’s why she maintained her svelte six-and-a-half pound figure throughout her life.

I took Keely back to the shelter for adoption, but vowed that if she were still at the shelter on her one-year anniversary, I’d adopt her.  On May 17, 1998, she came home with me and joined sisters Camille, Marissa and Dust.

We moved to Birmingham, Alabama in 1999, and Keely adjusted well. She kept under the bed unless we were out of the house. Upon our return, we’d see a blue-tortie streak fly through the house and head straight under the bed or to the back of the closet.  Sometimes we’d catch her in the act of being a “normal” cat, gazing out the window or chasing mice.

Although she was most comfortable living under the bed, we could coax her out with treats. We’d throw a treat on the floor, and she’d slink to the edge of the bed and scoop the treat back under the bed with lightening speed. Keely wanted love, but was so afraid of human touch.

We were concerned when she began to lose weight, because she was difficult to catch and impossible to medicate. Our wonderful vet was able to draw blood for testing and the results were normal. We eventually discovered that our male cat, Charlie, was keeping Keely away from her food and the litter box. We moved to Atlanta, and Keely had an entire floor to herself, with floor-to-ceiling windows, cat trees, and unlimited food. For the first few months, though, she kept herself squeezed under a bookcase.

Finally, around age 12, she let her guard down and began “talking” to me. She’d beg for a pet on the head—two fingers scratching two strokes between her ears.  Then she’d whack at me with her paw (claws retracted), and cry for more pets. This could go on for hours and I was happy to oblige. 

One day this summer, she pestered me nonstop. I took this as a sign that something was wrong, and a trip to the vet revealed that Keely’s kidneys were failing. A week at the vet’s on an IV, a new diet and subcutaneous fluid therapy appeared to do the trick, and she bounced back to normal. During this time she let her guard down more than ever to let me take of her and I am so thankful that she did.

In November, 2006 Keely’s blood work showed that her kidneys weren’t stable and she was anemic. She maintained a sunny outlook and good appetite, but sadly, on Thanksgiving Day, she crawled into a nook where she took her last breath.

I think she died on her own terms, the way she wanted to. I am grateful for our time together, and I know that I will see her again across the Rainbow Bridge.

Keely’s Rainbow bridge web site memorial can be found at:

http://RainbowsBridge.com/residents/KEELY001/Resident.htm.