Chicken Soup for the Soul: Cat’s disability was blessing to owner

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Published: October 17, 2009

"Most of us rather like our cats to have a streak of wickedness. I should not feel quite easy in the company of any cat that walked about the house with a saintly expression.”

— Beverly Nichols

BY CATE CAVANAGH

It wasn’t until after a couple of weeks that I noticed something was wrong. Unlike the other kittens, who’d begun crawling on their tummies, he was rolling like a ball down a hill.

I took him to a local vet, who coldly offered to put him down. He said the little guy had neurological damage and would never be able to walk. As a specialist in developmental and physical disabilities, I never put anyone or anything in a defined box.

Tank was all black and originally was named Tink, after Tinkerbell in "Peter Pan” because of his fluttering, unstable movements. When he was weaned, I had to hold him steady so he could eat, and as he ate, he wobbled like a foal just born. I never held him securely. I would place my hands on either side of him and let him wobble into them as he ate. By the time he was a year old, he still wobbled but ate without any help.

His walk was a clumsy trot, and at first he would bump into walls and table legs. In time, he gained enough muscle control to move more slowly and learned to lean on the walls for balance. The base of his tail was always bald from his using it for balance as he walked by chairs and table legs.

As for getting on the sofa, he clawed his way up. If you have ever seen anyone with a palsied condition, you have an idea of how he walked, sat and perched himself. Tank had a way of getting what he wanted and, to compensate for his disability, grew into a bully. We had a household of multiple cats, one golden retriever and two yellow Lab mixes, but when Tank sauntered by, they all cleared the way for him. If they didn’t, he would give a blood-curdling yowl.

I remember one night sitting up in bed reading. Our dogs were curled up nicely on the old sofa we kept for them in our bedroom when Tank came in. He looked about and settled his eyes on the sofa. I knew this was his destination. He wobbled over and sat, staring each dog in the eye one at a time. Each one picked up his head and looked at him and then at each other. He swung one paw onto the sofa, claw grabbing cloth, and in one instant all three dogs gave up their spot on the sofa. Tank climbed up and sprawled outstretched in the middle of the sofa. I had heard of people clearing out a room, and this little guy could clear out a sofa when he wanted it. He ruled the house.

In all my years of working in the disabilities field I have learned that compensating for one’s disability is underestimated by most people. The power of adaptation is amazing to witness. Tank demonstrated the real meaning of adapting to one’s circumstances and using the environment to the fullest to live a normal life.

He was born neurologically damaged, and most would have taken the advice of that vet who wanted to put him down. In so doing, they would have been denied the blessing of seeing a valiant, brave and indomitable spirit taking the hand given and playing it to the fullest for 17 years of life.

King Features Syndicate