In Memory of Emmy 6/20/2016 – 3/6/2025
Human beings are capable of so much beauty. We create. We create music that makes eyes well with tears on a lingering note or building crescendo. We create poetry that speaks to the soul. We create art that emotes on a brushstroke. We nurture, we build, we empathize and laugh. Despite all the good humanity is capable of, its duality can be shocking sometimes. We see proof of that often enough working in rescue, and our sweet and precious Emmy was one of many who became victims of humanity’s lesser tendencies.
She lived a life on the streets, trapped in the seemingly endless cycle of having kittens. Emmy adored kittens, but she had a unique issue that made nourishing them a real difficulty. She had a severe hard palate injury, which meant the roof of her mouth was left open and with a direct, large path into her nasal cavity. Food would often become trapped, which meant that Emmy was barely getting enough nourishment to stay alive, let alone provide for many tiny, hungry kittens.
When she was evaluated by a veterinarian, even more was uncovered. In addition to her palate injury, part of her tongue was missing and was smoother than it should’ve been. How did this happen? Well, the nature of the marks and the alignment of the injury led them to believe our precious Emmy, so trusting and kind, had a heat source put into her mouth…likely a firecracker, by someone who made a habit of finding joy in bringing animals suffering. Too many do.
Even as humanity is so capable of perpetuating suffering, we are also capable of good. When Emmy was brought into Williamson County Animal Shelter with her kittens, Critical Care Kitten Fund made it their mission to find a solution for Emmy. For two years, they worked with specialists to work toward closing the hole in the roof of her mouth. They were able to partially close it, and Emmy’s foster mom put in countless hours to find the safest, most enjoyable way for her to eat. Their tireless efforts finally bore fruit, and Emmy was ready for adoption.
Unfortunately, nobody came calling for sweet Emmy. Nobody looked at this sweet cat, who knew the harshness of their world and never let it dull her shine, and decided she was worthy of forever. That’s when Critical Kitten Care Fund reached out to us. We immediately fell in love with Emmy, our heart’s swayed by her story and her beautiful resilience, and we said yes. She came to us in June of 2023, and we were forever changed.
But the work wasn’t over. We were determined to give Emmy the best quality of life possible, and that meant fully closing the hole in the roof of her mouth. She went through several more surgeries, even using tissue from her ear to graft and cover the hole. Unfortunately, none of those surgeries were as successful as we hoped. Emmy would have to live with this injury, which meant a constant risk of debris going into her palate and nasal cavity, which meant a constant risk of infection. An “easy” solution would’ve been a feeding tube for life, but when we tried this with Emmy, we noticed she became incredibly depressed. Emmy lived for the joy of eating, a trait she shared with people. When people get sick and have to eat through a tube, they’re usually not happy either!
We decided to love Emmy exactly as she was, to let her live a happy life on her terms and no one else’s. We decided we would give her our best, we’d make every day special, appreciate the small moments, and just take her situation a day at a time. Emmy was grateful and catered to. And when I say catered to, I really mean it!
To reduce risk of aspiration with wet food that would be too thin and could be inhaled into the lungs through her injury, we let her eat pate. Given the fact that she had no teeth, a small tongue, and a mouth that could be most kindly described as a little misshapen, the shape of a pate gave her the most “grip” for lack of a better word. She’d chomp at her food like a little turtle, or if you really want to get imaginative, you could imagine Emmy eating like an animatronic herbivore on the set of the original Jurassic Park.
She loved to eat this way. It brought her real, tangible joy. And when she’d smashed the pate flat, she’d look up at you expectantly with a little chirp. She wanted you to reform her “cat meatball” which is what her previous foster had called it. With a spoon, we’d mix up the wet food until it was easy for her to chomp at. But funny enough, sometimes all she really wanted was for you to give it a little stir, like you’d added something real special and tasty to it just for her. Which of course, we often did…hey, we never said she wasn’t spoiled!
Emmy’s chirps were her favorite way to communicate. She’d chirp for attention, chirp for food, chirp while she played with her favorite pink piggy toy. For a cat that had a lot of medical difficulties to overcome, who had every excuse to not put her trust in other living, breathing beings…Emmy was effervescent and persevering. Every day was lived to the fullest, with warmth and sweetness, always happy just to be in a lap, to receive love. There was nothing that would bring a smile to your face quite as much as her little chirp at the Workroom door, where she’d let herself in and wait for her wet feeding patiently.
Our Slack channels were overrun with Emmy content! And so were our cleaning checklists. Emmy had grown roots at Shadow Cats, spreading into every little corner and making it warmer and fuller in her presence. We’d always post little reminders to everyone that Emmy was eating, as she always needed a wipe-down after her quite literal fancy feasts. She knew how to enjoy a good meal, and like any small child, a meal isn’t enjoyed thoroughly until half of it is speckled across the room. That’s where we had to add her to our cleaning checklist. We had to give the Workroom thorough cleanings to look for special, hidden spots that Emmy’s wet food spray had spread to. Cleaning up after Emmy was like trying to swim out of a riptide but we loved her for it anyway.
When she was done eating and being wiped down, she loved to play hide and seek in our Workroom laundry. We’d often post pictures with the description, “Spot Emmy” with varying difficulty levels attached. It was truly something straight out of The Princess and the Pea, seeing her stacked on 6 different soft beds. And, naturally, because her eating was such a spirited event, our precious Emmy would get a little scrunkly, if you will. Which meant that she’d get bathed often, which was an event all on its own.
But not in a bad way. Emmy was an incredibly gentle little creature, an angel for most treatments (except oral medications, which made sense considering her condition). For baths, she would patiently sit with you, even let you smooth her hair in a cresting mohawk along her head and back. All while fixing you with the most tender expression. She didn’t have the same soft and fuzzies about getting her hair blow-dried, but she allowed it all the same.
She did, of course, have opinions about the quality of the bath sometimes. She was always convinced she could do a better job, somehow. She’d go to groom herself with a phantom tongue, slobbering on her freshly cleaned arms indignantly like you’d missed a spot. We’d just have to put our hands on our hips and collectively say, “Oh, Emmy.”
Emmy was even good for her nebulizing treatments, which we did daily in an attempt to mitigate her chronic congestion. She trusted us so much, that she’d jump into the little neb tank all on her own and sit there patiently for her treatments. Now, when I say patiently, I mean that she had her own internal clock for the treatment. Sometimes it would be set at two minutes, sometimes five, sometimes ten. She would wait for whatever amount of time she felt was appropriate that day, and when she figured she was done, she would pop out of the neb tank like a jack-in-the-box toy.
Usually, we’d be medicating other kitties around that time, and it was always so funny to walk back into the workroom after a minute to find Emmy cutely staring up at you after a prematurely ended treatment. Most of the time, though, she waited for the full treatment before breaking out. Emmy was so much a part of our daily routine, and honestly? We wouldn’t have had it any other way.
It’s why it made it so difficult to make the decision to let her go. Emmy had an amazing two years with us, and she was so happy, social, chirpy, and playful. Towards the end, there was nothing we could truly do to alleviate her physical symptoms. She was dealing with chronic infections and congestion that were resistant to antibiotics. We had nothing to treat her with, and despite our best efforts and hers too, we knew that Emmy was telling us that it was time to put her and her little pink piggy to rest.
Emmy wanted to live her life in the ways that made her happiest, and we promised to give that to her the moment she walked through our doors. And that, we did.
When we scheduled her goodbye, there had been a string of nasty days and gusty winds. We were worried about the weather, because we desperately wanted this to happen out on the catio, where she loved to sunbathe. Thankfully, the weather was beautiful, and the winds were calm. She spent most of the morning reclining on a shelf on the catio, taking in the scenery. The day before and even that morning, she had been visited by people who deeply loved her.
And when the time came, that was no different. She was surrounded by those who loved her most, by the people who fearlessly cared for her with their hearts on their sleeves despite knowing the eventual heartbreak all too well. Those that bathed her, medicated her, did her nebulizing treatments, and dutifully wiped off her messy little chin after a too-delicious meal. Emmy was just thrilled to be getting attention, the pink piggy toy that came with her nestled under her arm. Its nose was holding on by a thread, having been so well-loved by our sweet Emmy. It came with her, and it would go with her.
We told stories about Emmy, shared laughs, and cried so many tears as she slipped from her body and beyond our reach. The wind was still until the moment she passed, kicking up just long enough to carry her sweet little angelic soul to a place of eternal peace and rest. She left this world knowing a love that transcended any hurt she’d felt, any bad thing done to her before her time in a loving home. But Emmy never acted like a victim of those circumstances, anyway. Emmy only knew love; she only knew how to be a light in a world that can sometimes feel so dark. She never let the trials of her life hinder how bright she could truly be, and we were constantly in awe of her because of it.
Now, Emmy stands at the rainbow bridge. As she crosses its colorful steps, into an endless glade where there are butterflies to chase, and streams of sunlight always present to warm her tiny, tiny body, Emmy is healed. There are no injuries, no sources of pain, and as she struts across the grass and breaks into a sprint, we know she’s headed right to the pate. There, she can eat freely, without pain, as messily as she likes, and she won’t need anyone to wipe her chin off this time.
She can do that herself, now.
Thank you to her sponsors, Margaret S, Desiree L, Catherine M, and Gary A for keeping Emmy in your hearts. Thank you to the incredible volunteers who were always ready with a brush and a lap to spoil our special girl. Thank you to the staff who tirelessly cared for her, who made her existence a happy one, who never stopped in their determination to do the absolute best for her, always. Thank you to anyone who ever read Emmy’s story and thought, wow, what an incredible creature.
We love you, Emmy. We always will.
Emmy had 4 Sponsors
Margaret Sheehan
Desiree Lais
Catherine Mustoe
Gary Appuhn