THE LAST POST REPORT - 1996
(Animal Sanctuary, Falls Village, CT)

Joey
By Paula Mastroianni

Against all odds and credibility, Joey wandered into my neighborhood -- and my life -- during a chillingly cold and wet March in 1987. Terrified of humans, starved to the point of emaciation, patches of fur burned off his back (probably from trying to find warmth under cars,) broken bones, I had never seen an animal so desperate as this skinny gray and white cat, with legs as thin as pencils. To look at him was to feel the worst kind of heartache.

It took 2 months of steady meals before he bravely decided that he could trust me enough to come out of hiding, and allow me to touch him. I had the feeling he had never experienced a gentle hand or a word of kindness since the day he was born, that’s how giddy his reaction was…he couldn’t decide whether to gobble up the food I had put down or just keep bobbing up for another round of petting. Barely making ends meet at the time, already living in a tiny apartment with two rescued cats, I still could not betray this animal’s trust. We were committed to each other.

So, with a lot of prayer, and even more love, I took him to my vet for “the works.” He needed everything, including three scrubbings just to get him clean. As any animal lover knows, the many health issues that come with a long-homeless creature are astronomical. Suffice it to say that, in his lifetime, Joey’s medical bills were just that. He also proved the old adage about cats having “nine lives” since he had many close calls, but always came through. Love is a powerful medicine.

At the time, the vet estimated his age to be 3 - 3-1/2 years of age, and warned me that -- given the unspeakable suffering he had already endured -- I should not expect him to have a long life.
After three days at the hospital, Joey came to his new home on June 17, 1987. I saw the amazement and wonder in his eyes as he slowly inspected every single inch of the apartment and, with rapture, chose what would become his favorite chair.

Joey suffered a minor stroke in 1994, which further weakened his already fragile body. The vet said he could last “a day, a week, or a month” and to “expect an invalid upon his return home.” To everyone’s surprise, he immediately jumped onto the sofa so we could nap together, as we always did, heads touching. Before we fell asleep, I gently asked him to please not leave me yet, and to try for just another five years if he possibly could, without suffering.

He did the best he could but, on June 11, 1996, Joey could no longer hold on. Before he died, I thanked him for finding me and for allowing me to be the person he trusted. I also reminded him that we was my “Dream Cat” because I was able to do for him what I wish I could do for every frightened and abused animal that crosses my path.

I used to sing “My Buddy” to Joey. I could not have had a better one.

And now, my beloved, polka-dot nose Joey, your buddy misses you…