As youze guyze are aware, the Linda Fund is afoot.
From now through June 8th, if you donate through the little cloud on our homepage, your dollars will be doubled for the cats. That much, you know.
Those doubled dollars will be devoted to emergency and specialty care for the neediest niblets. That much, you know.
But riddle me this: who are the faces of the fund, Linda’s luminaries, the cats your cash champions?
I’m glad you asked.
In no particular order, since they are collectively tied for #1 Eminent Important Magnificence, I present you with just a few members of the Linda Fund class of 2014.
Before she reached hamster-size, Beemo reached out for your help. As sometimes happens with kittens, Beemo was a tumbling, triumphant, zesty ball of light…until the day she wasn’t. Pneumonia struck hard, and Beemo went from “perfect health” to “fixin’ to diiiiiie” in less than 48 hours.
But there were funds in the Linda Fund…and Beemo made it.
First she made it to the emergency vet, where she had a classy stay in an oxygen cage, oodles of intensive care (I believe the invoice did, indeed, read “oodles”), and all the fluids and medication and assorted accoutrements that would save her speckled life.
They did. You did. The Linda Fund did. Today, Beemo is one healthy, happy teenager, and you bet your beluga she’s not thinking about oxygen cages anymore.
Hot diggity Dawg was the feral who wasn’t…as well as the cat who wasn’t going to survive. At least, so it appeared when Dawg came to Tabby’s Place.
Although he was a member of one of our TNR colonies, doe-eyed Dawg was anything but feral. When the colony’s caretakers found Dawg in distress one morning, they rushed him to Tabby’s Place — and it’s a good thing they did.
Dawg’s innards were all in a tizzy.
One major intestine-resection, blood transfusion and extended hospital stay later, Dawg was back to life…and back to Tabby’s Place, this time for good. In the midst of his ordeal, the emergency vet also diagnosed Dawg with a rare but serious form of heart disease. He’d require ongoing treatment and specialty care.
There were funds in the Linda Fund…and Dawg made it. He’s making it with style every day.
Regular readers already know and love Bonnie, and so you won’t be surprised that she was a Linda Fund superstar this year. When our chronically lovesick tabby began showing sickness of another sort, it was time for a trip to the specialty vet — and then another, and another.
The year 2014 was high on intensity for one Bonnie Rosenberg. It repeatedly threatened to be her last year among the living.
But there were funds in the Linda Fund…and Bonnie made it.
First, her intestine unceremoniously decided it no longer liked one of Bonnie’s medications. In an exceedingly rare side effect, Bonnie’s steroids caused her gut to perforate. Emergency surgery and extensive intensive care saved her life…that time.
But Bonnie’s 2014 battles weren’t over. Six months later, trouble resurfaced…through Bonnie’s beleaguered nostrils. A specialty veterinarian conducted a rhinoscopy and CT scan, diagnosing Bonnie with aggressive nasal cancer.
Again, it appeared to be the end of the line. Again, stubborn love and the Linda Fund punched out a better path.
Thanks to generous lovers like yourself, Tabby’s Place was able to send Bonnie for state-of-the-art Cyberknife surgery (click here for that story in detail). And, while Bonnie still has cancer, it’s almost certain this surgery is the reason she’s still with us.
Living. Loving. Screaming for wet food. All because of the Linda Fund.
We don’t have much patience for falseness at Tabby’s Place, so I don’t want to give you the mistaken impression that the Linda Fund is a guaranteed happy-ender. Sometimes, Linda Fund funds simply help us to keep a cat comfortable in her final days or weeks. In Bonnie’s case, we know we’re at the point where every day is a gift of grace.
Some of 2014’s hardest goodbyes were eased in part by the Linda Fund.
Tiny Hootz was a Linda Fund luminary.
So was noble Jean Valjean.
Loud little Lady Grey, too.
The Linda Fund does not always mean stories end the way we want them to end.
What it does mean is that every cat — every single cat — will receive every shot at hope under heaven, regardless of cost. If something is in a cat’s best interest, she’ll get it, even if we have to walk to the very ends of the earth with albatrosses on our shoulders and tattoos of Mike Tyson on our foreheads and pay many, many dollars and tears.*
So here I scrunch on my fundraiser hat:** please give to the Linda Fund, kittens. Your donation will be doubled, which is a chance you really don’t want to miss. But, much more, you’ll be pouring your love into a great, big promise to every Tabby’s Place cat who needs us in 2015.
Life tends to win around here. Please donate today — for life, for love, for the Linda Fund luminaries we have yet to adore.
*No, I am not personally volunteering to do this. No, we have never been in the position of doing this. (Yet.) No, I can neither confirm nor deny the placement and details of Tabby’s Place staff members’ personal ink.
**Which looks like this. And yes, you can once again bet your beluga that I wore hats like this approximately five days a week c. 1994. To cover my Mike Tyson forehead tattoo, of course.
Photo credits from de top: graphic by Adam; Beemo’s fam; AT; Mark; Denise; I honestly do not remember.