Ezzy
I guess I had hope when maybe I shouldn't have had hope, according to what everyone was telling me about the fate of all my foster kittens when it was learned Momma had lukemia. But I couldn't help it. I just had to give them the chance to live! Even after it was learned the first kitten to die had died of FIP (peritinitis) I still just had to give the rest of them a chance to make a life of it, no matter how small the chance was. I had to do this for one reason and one reason only... because I am convinced that that animals life means just as much to it as my life means to me. And it is for this reason that I tell you that Ezzy's (Ezmrlda) fight for life came to an end today. She was the last of her Momma Windi's four kittens. I really thougt Ezzy was gonna defy the odds. She did great for her five months of life except for these last couple of weeks that she just couldn't fight off that terrible illness anymore. Two weeks ago I saw it coming but still I wanted to give her the cance to fight it thinking she might just have a virus or stomach upset or something making her not want to eat much. But then today when I went to give her love and she had trouble walking I knew it was time. I couldn't let her suffer any more in the hopes she'll get better. The meds the Vet had given her last week weren't helping. I only hope the pain meds were doing it's job. So I put her in the carrier alone for the first time (I always took along a sibling when I took one of them to the Vet), called Jackie and asked her to tell the Vet I'm on my way in. Once at the vet they put me in a room where I took Ezzy out of the carrier. A tech came in and put some towels down on the exam table and asked me if I wanted to be present. I said "no, but I'm gonna be." You see, with the other three kittens they wouldn't let me be present because when they asked if I wanted to be, I guess I got too emotional and they thought it better I not be present. But with Ezzy I insisted that I be there becaue I am the only person these kittens have ever known and I somehow think my presence might ease their pain in passing at least a little. So the tech left the room saying they'll be back in a few. Now I sit all alone with my little Ezzy, holding her tiny body against my chest just under my chin. We must've been alone in that room for several minutes and she never lifted her head from resting it on my arm during the entire time except for one 5 second moment. It was in the middle of that long talk I had with Ezzy, almost at the end of it. See, I was just telling her how very much I love her, how I was so proud to have been a part of her short little 5 month life. But when I told her "if there was anything I should've done but didn't, anything I could've done but didn't, or anything I didn't do but should have, I am so terribly sorry, Ezzy. I really am. I'm so sorry." And it was at that exact moment that she lifted her head from resting on my arm and looked me straight in the eyes and somehow, and I don't know how, but somehow she told me "it's ok". And with that she rested her little head back on my arm. Then a few minutes later the tech and the vet came into the room and I laid little Ezzy on her side on the towels. They asked again if I wanted to be present and I said I have to. So the tech scruffed Ezzy and held her upper back leg and the Vet held her bottom rear leg and inserted the needle. He was having trouble finding a vein and as Ezzy squirmed and fought them I put my head down to hers and carressed her little head saying "it's ok, baby. Don't fight it. We're just trying to make your pain and suffering go away so you can go chasing little bunnies in kitty heaven. Please just let go, Baby. Just let go." Then Ezzy stopped fighting and I knew it was over. The Vet pulled out the needle and put his stethescope to her heart and said all he hears are just the last few, faint heartbeats. So they left the room and gave me the last few moments I'll ever have with my Ezzy. I stroked her now calm and soft fur and told her how sorry I am that she didn't really get to experience too much of a good cat life. I told her I'll see her, I know I'll see her again some day. And when that day comes we will run and play together and I'll show her how much fun it can be to be a kitty cat. Moments later the tech came back in and gave me a polite condolence hug then softly scooped up the towels with my little Ezzy inside and carried her off to be cremated and her ashes sprinkled on a specially reserved place. I grabbed my now empty crate and left the hospital for the fourth and last time, now having put to sleep every single last one of Momma Cat Windi's kittens. I've shed more tears in these last five months than in any other time in my life. And I wouldn't change a thing. For I am a FOSTER.

Colonel the Kitten
After the death of my Little "Andre' the Giant" I kinda knew I'd be writing yet another Rainbow Bridge letter because he had 3 other siblings who, chances are, were not gonna make it in life either. But let me start from the begining, or at least MY beginning of their life with me. At the end of September I decided to be a foster for Judy. I've fostered before and that's how I wound up with 3 more cats in addition to my already adopted 3 cats of Leo, Lovie, and Leah. But when I tried fostering I couldn't give up those wonderful kitties I'd taken in now named Flower and Zaphod (brother and sister) and big black beautiful Beau Beau. So even tho I allready had 6 cats I still really wanted to foster so I went online and filled out an app., all the time hoping and praying I would somehow have the honor and privilege of fostering KITTENS. But I really never thought I'd be so lucky. So imagine my surprise when I got a call from PRBL asking if I'd be willing to take in a Momma and her 4 kittens who hadn't even opened their eyes yet. Of course I jumped at the chance all the while not beleiving my good fortune. Later that day I was brought a cardboard box full of Momma and her kittens who were abandoned at a Winn Dixie. Hence Momma's name of Windi. I took them all to my quarentine room, gave Momma food and water, and made her a cozy and warm place to nurture her charges. My, how this brings such a smile now to me now! How precious they were! So after a few days I met Judy at the Vet's to get Momma tested. I had an appt elsewhere to keep so I asked Judy to wait here at the Vet's and I'll return shortly. But before I could make it back Judy called me, crying on the phone, saying Momma tested positive for Lukemia. How devistating! Because this means it would be a miracle if the kittens, ALL the kittens, didn't have it as well. But even tho it would be a miracle you cannot lose hope. You just can't. So I watch the kittens grow, from first opening their eyes to learning to crawl around to learning to walk then run and play. And seeing them progress like this really gives one hope. Hope in a miracle. But then after two months little Andre' sounds like he's got a bad chest cold. Just having trouble breathing. And because this is not a Lukemia symptom I do think it's maybe an upper resperatory thing. But after a couple weeks of him not getting better I come home from Christmas vacation to find him looking so very bad, slumped on a chair and gasping for breath. I quickly rush him to the vet and they take him back but before they could do anything my little Andre' the Giant stops breathing. It was Feline Peritinitis, I'm told. A very fatal disease. And if Andre' has it, the other kittens have it as well, chances are. But still, I do not give up hope on any of them. Their is still a chance, if maybe ever so small, that one of them, or maybe ALL 3 of them, could still live a good and decent life! RIGHT? So a couple of weeks go by and now the other male in the litter, the Colonal, gets sick. But before he suffers I take him to the vet and they confirm Peritinitis, so now I'm stuck with having to make that dreaded decision. Do I give him some time to maybe get over this illness? CAN he get over this? And if he doesn't just how much will he suffer trying to do so? I can not tell you just how difficult and terrible it is having to make this decision. In my mind, there is no right decision. Either way you go is so wrong because you do not want to be the one to play God and end this wonderful animals life. And you also do not want to be the one to make this poor animal suffer any more than it already has. And if there's something I can't stand it is to watch an animal suffer, especially at my own hand, or decision. So what do you do? What would YOU do? I can only tell what I did and that is to not make him suffer anymore. So I told the Vet that if his chances are so slim then go ahead... go ahead and take this precious little kittens life from it and end his suffering for good. Knowing that there is no way I can witness this kitten take his last breath on this earth I ask the Vet to let me hold him one last time. So I take little Colonel in my hands and hold him to my face and whisper in his ear "I'm sorry, Little Buddy. I'm so sorry you got such a terrible deal in life. And I'm so sorry your life was over before it really even started. And I'm sorry I made the decision to take your precious life from you. I only hope I made the right decision. And if I didn't I can only hope you will eventually forgive me. I love you! Please just remember I really did love you and I will allways, allways remember you." And with that I handed that little kitten back to the Vet knowing I will never ever see him again. ~ Chris W.

Polly the Kitten
After the death of my Little "Andre' the Giant" and "Colonel the Kitten" I knew I'd be writing yet another Rainbow Bridge letter. The same exact scenario happened just a couple weeks later to the third little kitten named Polly. Same symptoms, same greif, same heartache, same tears, same decision I had to make, same emotions, same outcome, same ending. Polly was a grey and white kitten who really stole my heart. She was just so cute! And so feminine in her ways. This one thing she allways did just made me laugh so much... she would stop and do a 360 when running or chasing. Every single time. As if chasing her tail, but not. That was so cute! And she really loved to sit atop my shoulders. She just seemed to be more comfortable there, looking down on everything. She'd stay there as long as I would let her. So I had no choice but to name her Polly. Polly was the third, and so far last, to pass away from her litter. There is still one left and her name is Ezmrlda (yes, I spelled that right, or at least the way I want to spell it for her). Ezzy is almost 5 months old now and I'm hoping and praying she has built up enough immune in her to make a life of it. All I can do is feed her well, give her the best supplements in her food and make sure she gets enough exersize every day and with a little luck maybe, just maybe, she'll beat both of the diseases she was born with that killed all of her siblings. So please, whoever reads this, if you would, please, please just stop here and now and say a little prayer or have a nice thought for Ezzy, that she'll make it in life. Or at least a little while longer because on March 8th she will be going to a Cat Sanctuary in Naples, Fl. It's a sick and injured cat sanctuary currently being built by a wonderful lady who lives in one of four houses on a large property being dedicated to these cats and kittens who need it most. And if she makes it, I'm sure my Ezzy will have a wonderful life there, of what life she has left. So here's to you, Ezzy. Good luck. I will really miss you! And I will allways, allways love you and remember you! I promise I'll come see you someday SOON!!! All my love to you and your siblings, now and forevermore,Chris W.

Mona the Senior Boxer
Mona came to Pet Rescue By Judy, sick and emaciated, rescued from a backyard breeder. Eight years old, we weren't sure she would find a forever home. Silly us. Hugh had previously adopted a senior pet from us, and after Suzy passed away he made room in his heart for Mona. Four months later we received this e-mail: " Tomorrow is a week since Mona passed away. Mona was such a love, I really miss her terribly. She was exactly what I wanted (after she settled down in her new home, got over her separation anxiety, and realized if she played her cards right, she could be the Queen of the Castle). She finally got to the point of lying next to me on the couch, with her head in my lap; she'd jump into bed and even get under the covers if it was cool; she'd let me snuggle with her. She was constantly following me - at the computer, at the piano, and heaven forbid if I tried to go anywhere in the car without her. She loved to look out the window, with her droopy eyes and little tongue sticking out all the time - she attracted many stares and laughs from other drivers!. She would love to come over to the couch after dinner, put her head in my lap, and let me knead the folds of skin on her face and her head; she'd snore/grunt to show how much she was enjoying it. Of course, she was as gassy as a cow, but we got used to it and kept air fresheners close at hand. Dr. Willie was so wonderful with her, but he warned us that within a year, her enlarged heart would give out. Several times, she got bloated with fluid, and had to have special treatment to reduce it. The last Sunday we had her, my wife and I took her to Lake Eola to see the ducks, swans, and all the other dogs. It was a perfect day and she was in heaven; stopping every few feet to sniff and leave her mark. It was a great event for all three of us; I'm happy she got there. Just the last evening, Wednesday, she seemed too tired and sleepy to get off the couch to follow me upstairs, but when Susan got home at 11, Mona came up to the bedroom, although she slept on her own bed on the floor. The next morning, we heard her breathing differently than ever before. Susan checked and said Mona's heart was racing. We got up to take her out, and she dropped on the landing, had two convulsions, and died as peacefully as we could expect: in our arms, in a blanket, in the home that she had come to love. We buried her in our large backyard. I still look for her to greet me when I come in at night, and whenever we go to the car, we still expect her to run to the door, not to be left out. So many people have said "Well, I hope that's enough for you now, and you're going to take a break" or "No more rescue dogs for you!" Indeed! If anything, I'm at peace about Mona; she knew she was loved, she was safe, well fed, warm, and she had the dignity that every living creature deserves. I will certainly go once again to Judy to take some other older dog who needs to be loved. I can't compare the love that I receive back from these forgiving, grateful creatures. I need some time, of course, to grieve Mona and savor every memory. I sense her presence and I truly believe animals have souls or spirits that go to "heaven." I know you loved her too, and I'm grateful to be able to share some memories of her. Hugh"

Whimsy ~ Six Pounds of Character
Whimsey came into the rescue a strong willed little lady of eleven years old. For whatever reason, there were only a chosen few of us which this little spit fire would allow to hold her, pick her up and/or even open her crate to feed her (without a fight). Having one of those volunteers care for her after her medical needs were attended to surgically allowed Ms. Whimsey the ability to blossom and slowly let her guard down due to the fact that she was in a safe, secure surrounding. Then, I was asked to babysit Ms. Whimsey, while her foster mother had to travel. One week with Ms. Whimsey in my home made me truly realize what I was missing in my life. I had dogs of most sizes; however, I never had myself a little lap dog. Let alone a strong willed little lady who suffered from what I called 'big dog syndrome' at six whole pounds. What she lacked in weight, she most definitely made up for in disposition! Ms. Whimsey continued with that strong will of only allowing select individuals into her life and I was so glad to realize that I still remained to be one of them. I know it was a hard decision for her foster mom to allow Ms. Whimsey to remain with me upon her return from her travels BUT in the best interest of Ms. Whimsey she agreed. I was home most every day with a fully fenced yard for Ms. Whimsey to sun bathe. She was able to come and go as she pleased by the use of a doggie door and she was able to say good bye to pee-pee pads for good. Ms. Whimsey no longer saw the inside of a crate and she was able to spend her final days on her own princess pillow with her own little coat to keep her warm when weather required. This little lady intertwined in my heart in a manner very difficult to put into words. But I know her presence in our home made a tremendous difference for her golden years. I thank Michelle (her foster mom) for allowing me the opportunity to experience both that love and devotion that can only be explained and understood by those who knew Ms. Whimsey herself. Thank you Ms. Whimsey for teaching me that love comes in all sizes and most importantly from sources which we may very least expect. Momma Janet