The Carpeting That Killed My Cat
A long, long time ago, I lived in Northern California. All my life, I had enjoyed having pets, but at that point, I was away from home all day, working full-time. It didn’t seem fair to have a dog waiting inside the house alone for so many hours.
Around that time, one of my customers stopped by and mentioned that her mama cat had just given birth to a litter of eight kittens. She showed me a picture, eight tiny black kittens nestled together in a big basket, each wearing a little red bow around its neck. I stopped by that afternoon to see them in person and, as you might imagine, fell head over heels in love. They were all solid black, glossy as satin, and completely irresistible.
I took home two of them and named them Amos and Andy. (Amos is the left picture, Andy is the right) They were sweet, attentive, and surprisingly affectionate. When I came home from work in the evening, both of them would trot to the door to greet me — just like the dogs I had owned before.
When the cats were about five years old, I moved from my apartment into a townhouse. It was larger and full of new corners and windowsills to explore. The only drawback was the carpeting, old, worn, and well past its prime. Unfortunately, replacing it right away wasn’t in the budget.
Within a few weeks of moving in, both Amos and Andy began having breathing problems. They would cough, gag, and choke. Andy was the worst. I took him to the veterinarian, where he was examined thoroughly. The vet found nothing structurally wrong and concluded it must be allergies. We tried to figure out what he might be reacting to. Andy received fluids and supportive care, but before we could identify the cause or help him recover, our sweet Andy passed away.
Amos held on. He continued to struggle somewhat but eventually stabilized.
Not long after, we were finally able to replace the old carpet. Almost immediately, Amos began to improve. His breathing cleared. His energy returned. When we told the vet about the change, he concluded that the problem had likely been the sun-rotted backing on the old carpeting — something we never would have suspected.
Amos lived another seven years after Andy passed. He was lonely, but he remained affectionate, gentle, and reasonably healthy. I still think about Andy sometimes, and about how love isn’t always enough to protect those we care for most. But it does stay with us, long after they are gone.
If only we had known sooner.
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