My grief kitten didn't die...

Miracles, gratitude, grief and being present for our lives...

Dec 26, 2023

Yesterday in the early morning, on Christmas Eve, I sat in the living room writing with a little bundle of grey and white love snuzzled up against my leg, vibrating himself to sleep with his lion sized purr. My feline companion, is Grayson, my grief kitten, who found his way into our lives in September and by some miracle, is still alive this Christmas…

I had no plans on getting a cat, even after a psychic medium told me Jason might come back to me in feline form. I already have a super cute and loving dog, Saffi, and two teenagers…that is plenty! It was six months later, at a neighbour’s house, as their orange kitten, Dorito, bounced all around me, that I was reminded of the two orange cats I had in my early twenties, Shreddie and Pekoe, and how much I had loved them. Cats are so different than dogs, curious, funny, independent, sometimes cuddly and at times, assholes…I decided a kitten would be good for me and the kids. So began our search for a rescue cat.

I was initially looking for an orange kitten, and then this little grey and white creature caught my attention. When I first saw his picture, I immediately saw a heart formed by his two ears at the top and the white fur that comes to a point on his chest. Then my daughter pointed out the uncanny significance of his name…if you reverse Jason’s name (Jason Gregory), you essentially get “Greyson” or my preferred spelling, “Grayson”… at that moment, the memory of the medium’s words came rushing back into my mind. This cat was meant for me.

Grayson was located at the SPCA in Squamish, which interestingly was a place Jason often spent time with a good friend when we weren’t together. So off to the mainland we went, my friend, Janice, and my daughter in tow. As soon as we opened his cage, he came towards us, full of curiosity, reaching out his long skinny legs to touch us with his white socked paws. As we were driving up to Squamish, I had asked Jason to give me a sign if this was a good idea, taking on this big commitment. Just as I was handed the paperwork for his adoption, my phone pinged and one of Jason’s closest friends sent me a text to check on me. That was confirmation enough for me… paperwork was signed and so began our journey with Grayson.

Later that day, my daughter showed me the underside of the black towel given to us by the SPCA to cover the crate for the trip home. There was a large number 15 embroidered in gold thread on the towel…Jason died on the 15^th of the month….I just breathed this in as one of the many signs that Jason has and continues to give us that he is still here with us, albeit in a different form. I just accept it all now as mounting evidence of an afterlife and trust that one day when I die, it will all make sense.

After several weeks at home, we noticed Grayson was getting less interested in toys, more lethargic and his belly was growing larger. He seemed to have trouble jumping up on things and even chewing his food. I took him to the vet in early October and that is when Grayson was diagnosed with Feline Infection Peritonitis (FIP), a fatal and incurable cat disease caused by a mutation of the COVID virus, that is not contagious to humans or dogs. The vet told me she sees 1-2 cases a year. She told me take him home, treat him like a king and bring him back when I knew it was time to let him go; she did not expect him to live until Christmas.

I was immediately thrown into a tailspin of despair and an angry sense of “You have got to be fucking kidding me…my grief kitten is going to die??????” The vet, knowing my story of late, teared up as I cried in the exam room. I could barely drive home, the sobs racked my body and my contacts swum around in my water-filled eyes. I called a good friend who came right over, and we sat on my couch in disbelief. I mentioned the vet had said something about an off-label treatment that she had heard of but thought it was exorbitantly expensive and regardless, she had no idea where to access it.

In a fit of desperation, because I could not bear the thought of another loss, we started to research and came across a Facebook group, FIP Advocates and Champions Canada. Within minutes, I was connected to several amazing volunteer admins who confirmed there was in fact a non-FDA approved treatment option, an anti-viral medication (GS-441524) that comes from China and is proving successful (80% cure rate) based on US research at UC Davis and the lived experience of the admins. I had to complete an intake form with details of Grayson’s symptoms, send a copy of his bloodwork and various photos of his eyes, gums, and videos of him walking towards and away from me. They confirmed the diagnosis of FIP, specifically wet FIP with some neurological signs and said that he needed to start treatment right away.

The treatment protocol is an 84 day course of subcutaneous injections of the anti-viral, several weeks of steroids and monthly bloodwork to monitor FIP markers. They outlined different reputable brands of the medication which they could access from China, each with different costs (ranging from $60-107 dollars/5ml vial) depending on the guarantee of relapse coverage.

It was overwhelming to have to decide on the spot and trust that it wasn’t part of a scam, but the kindness and willingness of the admins to provide support and information was encouraging and I got a sense that they could be trusted. The anti-viral I chose was initially quoted at about $1300 and this would unfortunately not be covered by the pet insurance from the SPCA that was in place (due to a med change part way through, this cost dropped to $700 as more inexpensive meds became available). I phoned my vet and although she could not recommend or help administer the treatment, she was willing to provide us with the supportive care (oral meds, bloodwork and free syringes/needles). I decided to go for it.

Within two hours, I was driving to Victoria to pick up the free emergency first doses, as time is of the essence with FIP. I was given two unmarked vials of clear fluid, and a handful of syringes and needles plus instructions how to order more meds from China. Talk about having to throw caution to the wind…what did I have to lose though as he was going to die anyways? The rest of the meds would arrive a week later, in a box labelled as hyaluronic acid, disguised as beauty products.

I was completely overwhelmed as I read through the written instructions for subcutaneous injections and quickly realized I could not do it. Although I thought my daughter could learn, we needed help! We were also leaving for our trip to Vegas and the RiSE Festival four days later and I had to figure out how Grayson could receive the treatment while we were away.

Enter stage left, our amazing neighbours and friends (tried and true animal people), who came to the rescue. Their daughter, Calahn, never having done subcutaneous injections before, but well versed in handling and caring for raptors as part of her job, showed up to our house, calm and confident, prepared to do the first injection. My daughter and I held Grayson, distracting him with Churu…essentially a disgusting fishy yogurt-like treat in a tube that cats go crazy for and Calahn did the injection.

One down, 83 more to go!

It was hard to believe, but by the next morning, there was a noticeable improvement. Grayson was a bit more playful, batting at a feather on a stick while in lying. This was a little hint of his old kitten self.

Thanks to Team Grayson (friends, my neighbours and a house-sitter), who stepped in to care for him, we were able to go on our trip to Vegas. When we got home, the swelling in Grayson’s belly was noticeably smaller.

A couple of nights later we noticed he was breathing rapidly and after consulting the admins, I drove to Victoria late at night for an emergency vet consult (there is no emergency vet care in my town in the evenings or weekends). The vet was so encouraging and relayed a story of another cat she knew who was cured of FIP. She recommended continuing the steroid use to support his breathing and reduce inflammation and then we were on our way.

Home by 3:30 am and straight to bed, awake again three hours later to get ready for my first day back to work as a school counsellor after having had the previous 8 months off. Not ideal, but I had to roll with it. Within five minutes of being back at work, I was met with a crisis that required me to dive right back in without hesitation. Despite my previous wonderings about my capacity to be a counsellor anymore, at the end of that unusually long 12-hour day, there I was proudly still upright, having managed to do my job with some semblance of skill, presence, and care.

I realized this capacity to show up for others in spite my grief was hard earned. I believe it was the result of me turning squarely towards and facing my grief and Jason’s death head on, with the support of so many, which has created some stability and strength in me. This has served me well over these past few months which have continued to be imbued with an intensity of sorts. There has been truth to my counsellor’s statement, “This is certainly not a casual season of your life, Alison…”

We quickly got into a daily rhythm of Grayson’s treatment…Gabapentin two hours before the injection to “chill him out” and then around 9pm there would be a familiar knock at the door and the sounds of Calahn’s cheerful voice as she came up the stairs asking us how we were all doing. Meds were drawn up then we would figure out which of six injection spots we would use that day based on the condition of his skin (the med is acidic and causes little sores and scabs that we had to learn to work around). One of my kids and I would hold Grayson and most often Calahn would do the injection, but my daughter also learned how to do it. Then we would have little visit and talk about our day, sometimes share a snack and often a laugh. On nights that we were out, some combination of Calahn and her family would come over and do the injection for us. Our neighbours have been nothing short of amazing.

This treatment has been an up and down journey. Some days Grayson barely seemed to notice the needle, other days he cried out, or squirmed so much requiring us to stop and restart (our maximum being four pokes to get the meds in) or he held his paw up limping afterwards for awhile, whimpering. We had to watch out for the meds leaking out of his skin as giving him the entire dosage was important. One time the needle and the syringe came apart and the needle was stuck in his skinny body. Another time we must have nicked a capillary as he was dripping blood all over the floor. Getting the correct dose (based on a weekly weight) at the same time of day was really important. Some days Grayson would show up at the yoga mat (our makeshift vet clinic) like clockwork, almost like he knew he needed it. Other times he hid under the sofa, stubbornly refusing to come out. The whole time the admins kept in touch asking for updates and making themselves available at all hours to answer questions or address concerns. They reviewed the monthly bloodwork and advised of dosage changes.

Well, yesterday, Christmas Eve, was a very special day as it marked injection number 84, the very last one! Based on his bloodwork this past week, Grayson has been officially cleared to move into phase two of treatment, three months of “observation” with bloodwork every 4-6 weeks to monitor for relapse.

Over these past two and a half months, our cat has literally been transformed….no longer lethargic, glassy eyed, and no sign of the fully distended fluid filled belly that alerted me to something being wrong. He is back to his spunky, funny, playful and cuddly self. Ironically at the start I was thinking, “Oh he is such a good kitten, he doesn’t jump on the counters or scratch any furniture…”, now that he is exhibiting some of his crazy antics, I realize no, he was not “good” per say, he was simply dying!

Saffi and Grayson are still adjusting to each other. Sometimes they curl up to sleep side by side, other times Grayson terrorizes Saffi claiming her orthopedic dog bed as his own, stretching out his lanky ten-pound kitten body, relegating Saffi to a less luxurious sleeping option. Other times he launches himself at her in a fevered bid to befriend her, madly alternating between licking and biting her with those sharp kitten teeth. Saffi is still learning how to find her, “No!”

Grayson has most definitely brought some joy back into our home and although, we too, are navigating those sharp kitten teeth, he redeems himself with his loud purr that literally vibrates through your body when he is close to you. I am sure this must activate a relaxation response of sorts in us. Grayson also often comes for a cuddle sometime in the night, diving beneath my covers and lying in the crook of my arm for several hours. Both of our pets offer us significant comfort and presence.

Interestingly, and not surprisingly, the research of Joanne Cacciatore, a professor of Social Work at Arizona State University who specializes in traumatic grief has shown that…

“…when compared with every other human group with whom grievers typically interact, animals provided significantly more support than family, friends, colleagues, therapists, social workers, medical staff, spiritual providers and more…their steady and nonjudgmental presence, their continuity, their loving responsiveness and the deep connection with their animals were the most significant ways that animals are perceived as emotionally supportive…Animals, simply, just show up.”

Grayson is literally my Christmas miracle this year, having survived his incurable illness through anti-viral meds and the love and support of others.

As I sit here in the presence of my simple, (because that is all I could bear this year) Christmas tree with its white lights, Lee Valley tin stars, an angel and Jason’s little knitted blue and white monkey ornament, I notice a sense of immense gratitude.

I rest in this gratitude for awhile.

Gratitude that Grayson landed in our laps and that we were able to save his life. I so wish that had been possible for Jason, even though I know he did not expect that of me.

Gratitude for cat loving admins on Facebook who are passionate about saving cats and are armed with current FIP info/treatment options and access to non-FDA approved drugs…

Gratitude for friends and neighbours who have shown up day after day in service, love and encouragement and most especially Calahn who possesses the superpower of navigating needles and squirmy kittens with confidence and love.

Gratitude to my vet and her staff who have been so supportive and eager to help as they witness their first FIP cat survive.

Gratitude to Jason Gregory, who may in fact be Grayson? Or who sent me Grayson? Or who knows how it all works????…but I can feel your hand in this, holding mine…thank you for continuing to show me that love, does in fact, always find a way.

I would be remiss if I did not mention that in addition to this gratitude, there are so many other conflicting feelings making themselves known to me as I move through this first Christmas without Jason. Nothing is simple, everything seems to have a complexity now, and as I have noted before, is full of duality… My gratitude sits at the top of a deep well of raw, pure grief of missing someone I love, and in all the feelings stirred by me witnessing or at least aware of the suffering of so many others in my community and in the rest of the world during this Christmas season..

When Grayson was first diagnosed with FIP, I noticed my fixation on the question “Why me?” which after some reflection was met with the thought, “Why not me?” I have come to realize that no one is protected from tragedy, illness, stress or loss, even when in the midst of grief.

Two weeks after Jason died, we almost had a house fire. A month later, my son’s 15-year-old girlfriend had to endure a twelve plus hour surgery to save her life. My daughter continued to struggle with the physical and cognitive challenges associated with long COVID. My 50-year-old cousin, married with two kids, died unexpectedly in September of a heart attack. In November, there was an awful, tragic accident that impacted my school community and my daughter’s grad class when a much-loved grade 12 student tragically died in the presence of two of his friends.

This year has felt relentless in its intensity.

I now notice grief and loss everywhere and have observed time and time again, others having to face their own versions of intensity and sometimes ongoing loss. This reality is terrifying to me, knowing full well that my capacity to endure more loss right now is extremely limited. At times, I have been tempted to take everyone whom I love and lock them up in a closet to keep them safe. I appreciate this isn’t exactly a healthy solution to my fear. Anxiety does not protect me from anything bad happening, if anything, it could, if left unchecked, just drain me of my energy and resources that I would need in the face of more loss and at the worst, prevents me from living my life. Yet, it is hard to truly acknowledge this kind of uncertainty, that is always lurking in the background; It exists right alongside the dirty dishes, to do lists and yet thankfully also beside magical, wonderful moments…like when you have a purring kitten snuggled up to you.

All I can surmise on this Christmas Day, is that it can be really hard to be human. Life can be awful at times and being in grief does not give you a free pass. There is no pause button. Navigating my new life with any sense of balance has required a conscious effort to actively tend to myself, regardless of what is occurring around me, because life keeps happening, even when we are reeling. Tragedy and magic will continue to show up unannounced and unexpected and occasionally, so will miracles. As Megan Devine aptly notes, it is simply our job to try to be present and show up for the life we are asked to live.

So on this Christmas Day, I am sending love and best wishes to everyone. May your heart be open enough to notice and receive the magic and the miracles of the season, to feel gratitude for your blessings and if your heart is broken right now, may you have the strength and grace to show up for yourself and the life you are asked to live, even if it is just one moment at a time.

And Then You Were Gone

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