Mickey, a wonderful little kitty boy in a squishy shade of pink, was born on September 24, 1995 at Julielle Sphynx cattery in Pennsylvania.  When we saw him for the first time on a videotape his breeders sent to us, we knew immediately that the tiny, impish kitten who repeatedly flashed across the screen was the one for us -- so endearing were his unstoppable energy and desire for constant interaction and play.  His giant ears stood at attention, and his magnetic, round, golden eyes beamed with excitement at every turn.

Mickey seemed to be lost in a constant state of sensory overload, and he was, quite frankly, hysterical to behold.  He stole our hearts immediately.  We were so disappointed when, on the videotape, we heard his breeder say, “Oh, and that's Mickey - he's not for sale.” Mickey was the first kitten produced by his breeder, so he was obviously very special to them.  Because of his personality and near hairlessness they planned to use him as a breeder male in their cattery. They also mentioned on the tape, casually, that Mickey had developed a strange ”sniffle” that seemed to come and go...

There was another beautiful adolescent sphynx on the videotape, a silver male with a big black offset spot on his nose (he was known there as BlackNose). He appeared extraordinarily affectionate, and we decided that if Mickey wasn't for sale, we’d adopt BlackNose. This indeed came to pass, and we renamed him Bucknekid, or Bucky for short, back in October of 1995. He was a complete riot, perfectly strong and healthy, and incredibly intelligent. Although through my own sinful choices, and against the will of God, I divorced my husband at the time, Bucky now lives with his “daddy,” my former husband, and we feature a number of photos of him in our Image Gallery.

After Bucky stayed with us for a few months, it became apparent that, due to his interactive and lovable nature, he was quite lonely while we were away at work every day, and we made the decision to get him a companion. 

The breeder sent another videotape, and although there were a pair of beautiful silver, black and white adolescent sisters named Rainbow and Suzy (who is now our Lupi) available, none gave me the feeling that Mickey had, so we decided to wait for one that did. We had developed a close personal relationship with the breeders, talking to them on the phone quite often, and every once in a while, they'd mention how Mickey was either feeling a little better, or in the throws of a full-blown headcold, but that he never seemed to kick whatever was afflicting him, even after being treated with amoxicillin, interferon, immunoregulin, and a number of other medications. In any event, I kept begging them to sell him to me, and they kept declining.

In late December of 1995, the phone rang.  It was the breeder, who asked me if I was sitting down, and followed that with, “How would you like an early New Year's present?”  I said, ”MICKEY?”  He said, ”Mickey. But he's terribly sick. I'm not sure there's anything we can do for him here, but maybe, with a loving family, he'll thrive...” I burst into tears of joy, as I had known that Mickey was supposed to be my little boy - I knew there was just something about him... In a week, we were on my way to Toledo, to meet them halfway.  As we sat at the table at the truck stop, the breeder opened her winter cap, and inside was a tiny, bony, pink little boy, with a heaving chest; severe conjunctivitis; and a nose crusted with mucous.  My chest tightened as she handed him to me, and I had thought that it was one of the happiest days of my life. I placed him inside my jacket, close to my heart, and there he remained until he arrived at his new home, over 500 miles from where he was born...

I took a week off of work upon Mickey's arrival, holding, massaging and praying for him nearly the whole time, although at that time I had no true knowledge of the true God. He, Bucky and I curled up in a sleeping bag on the couch and stayed there all day, except for short breaks, during which I attempted to get him to eat and gain strength. It's interesting to note that the two of them were playing together within an hour of their introduction, and Bucky immediately began tending to him; very little interaction was required by us after the first hour or two.  I prepared broths, liver, bacon, chicken and eggs, even peanut butter -- anything I thought might stimulate his appetite. We slept together every night until my allergies forced me to retreat to my own bed.  We continued to research Mickey's symptoms, and, our veterinarian finally diagnosed him with feline viral rhinotracheitis, a highly contagious and deadly feline respiratory herpes virus, the symptoms from which many cats may recover, but which is never cured.  In the meantime, the breeders were devastated as, one by one, more and more of their cats fell ill from the virus, with dozens of kittens dying shortly after their birth when the virus was passed to them, silently, from their mothers while they nursed them and tended to their needs.  Over the course of a few months, Mickey's symptoms would improve, then recur with vengeance.  This rollercoaster ride was getting the best of me.  I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. All the energy spent, all the prayers, all the hopes - it seemed like nothing was going to be enough to make Mickey well.  I was head over heels in love with that little kitty boy, but one day, in a moment of hopeless desperation, I picked up the phone, in tears, and called the breeders to say I couldn't help Mickey, and that I felt the only thing I could do is send him back.  The moment the words crossed my lips, I felt complete shame, and knew that what I was doing was wrong. If I gave up on Mickey, he'd never have a chance to live the beautiful life he seemed so deeply to want celebrate. At that moment, I made the commitment to never give up on Mickey.

That miraculous day, his condition began to improve. He began eating with more enthusiasm, playing more physically, racing, chasing and wrestling with Bucky with more energy and skill. The swelling and discharge from his eyes began to subside, and his nasal and chest congestion began to clear. Over the next year, he continued getting stronger and more healthy, remaining free of symptoms for longer and longer periods of time, and, once he reached a little over a year old...

MICKEY STOPPED GETTING SICK.

Continue to Mickey, Part 2