It was a couple of years before she finally regained the weight she had lost. All the while, our family kept growing. Clyde showed up on our doorstep one day and never left. Radar wanted to adopt him too, but he seemed to feel he didn't need adopting. Peanut and Fred came to us, from my Mom. Radar was in her glory, with little ones to look after again. When we got two bunnies, she insisted the smaller one was hers, so MacIntosh spent most of his time learning kitty things. My daughter came home one day with another tiny kitty, she called Harold. Radar did her best trying to teach him to stay at home, but he was a wanderer, and vanished one day. We think a coyote got him. My Mom's cat had another litter and again we had to have one. Tabu was a manx, and ever so independant. She despised the attention Radar gave her, and when she herself had a litter, she hated being a mother. She would stay in the box long enough to feed her three babies, then she was gone. Radar raised them and we ended up keeping Satie.

 

When Radar was six, we moved again, this time to a city suberb. She hated the noise, and when she went out at all, it was to sit on the steps. A year later, we bought a house in another suberb, but this time it was a quieter neighborhood. Radar would explore the front and back yards, but was rarely out long.

 

Whenever I went away for a holiday, Radar would be heartbroken. In 1992, when I got back from a weeks vacation, the house-sitter told me Radar had hardly eaten while I was gone. I noticed her breathing seemed to be labored and a couple of days later, decided to have the vet look at her. She was given some antibiotics, and when they didn't seem to do much, I took her in again. They did all the basic tests, all coming back fine. So then they did some more extensive testing. When I was phoned at work and told to go and see them, I knew the news could only be something I did not want to hear.

 

Radar has Fatty Liver! What? She's never been fat in her life. They said she'd eaten too much food with a high fat content. There was no treatment. There was no cure. As her condition worstened, they would do what needed to be done. Take her home and keep her comfortable and stress free

 

Stress free....what a sick joke! I was just getting my own business off the ground, I had three grandkids living with me, all under three, my marriage was not going well and my Baby was dying! There was probably more stress in that home at that time than any other. 

 

Tears cloud my eyes as I sit here typing.....I am as distraught now, as I was then. I took her home and monitored her, hating the time I had to be away from her. They soon had to do a tracheotomy, and inserted a tube to her tummy, so I could feed her. She hated it, and so did I! I had to feed her every two hours, because she wouldn't let me give her very much at a sitting. Once a week the vet would keep her overnight to monitor her. They were amazed she had lasted this long.

 

I poured every ounce of love I had in me, to her. There was no room in my life for anyone else. I lost weight, my business suffered, but in the end, it was all worth it! My Radar did survive. It took a long time for her to recover, but time didn't matter. I had my Baby, that's what mattered. The vets were astounded. They had never seen such love between an animal and a human. I had to write journals of what all I did, so that maybe someday, some other kitty would live too. But even then, they told me that it was the bond between the two of us, that saved her.

 

Life was good again. Radar played with her furry mice and ran up and down the stairs. She cuddled with 'her' kids during the day and every night, she slept in the crook of my arm. When my Dad died in 1995, Radar was waiting for me when I went back home. She knew I was hurting, and rarely left my side.

 

March 1996....she started wheezing when she breathed. I took her to the vet and they gave her some antibiotics to clear the fluid from her lungs. We were packing to move again, this time to the far north. She would seem better for a day or two, then she would get worse. She was given stronger pills. They didn't work either. The vet said she needed surgery, but she was really concerned because of Radar's weakened condition. When I told her we were leaving in less than a month, she said no way. Even if the surgery went well, which she truly doubted, Radar would be unable to travel for a minimum of six to eight weeks. She told me to take Radar home and make her as comfortable as possible, and to bring her in, when I knew it was time.

 

No packing was done. Every moment was spent with my Baby. When Radar looked at me one day, I could tell she was ready to go. We made our final trip to the vet. I held her and she never took her eyes off mine, even when her leg was shaved, even when the needle was inserted. We were left alone afterwards. I knew she was no longer suffering. I knew I didn't want to go on.

 

Radar's ashes came back, and she continues to move with me, everywhere I go. The vet sent me a card with the story of the Rainbow Bridge. I read it and sat and cried and cried. I was so relieved to know that my Angel was waiting for me.

 

I still have a couple of her fuzzy mice. They're tucked in with all the other toys. None of the other babies will play with them, but every once in awhile, I'll find one lying in the middle of the floor. I can only think, my Rads came home for a visit.