Here is an essay I wrote after another stray animal episode a few months back. For some odd reason, I couldn't sign into my account for awhile, and therefore- it got past me and I forgot:)
You'd think there were a sign above my door. Something to the effect of- Cat hotel and diner! Free shelter and food! Inquire within!
Over the years, we've taken in, nursed, fed and housed countless stray cats before finding them other homes, taking them ourselves, or like today, nursing them through their last illness, and making the decision to put them to sleep.
I've often wondered exactly what goes through the mind of a person who takes a cat they've raised from kittenhood- indoors- and dumps them far away from home, in a small town, thinking they'll find a good home. Well let me tell ya- 'good' homes are few and far between.
Here's what usually happens.----------
Six month old tom cat, completely reliant upon people for food and safety is dumped on the roadside, and watches while his people drive away. He looks around. What to do? He wanders for awhile. Looking around and hiding underneath bushes. He streaks across roads. Nightfall comes and it begins to rain. He finds shelter under someone's parked car. He watches the nighttime animals about their business. A raccoon approaches, and he backs away and hisses. The raccoon comes closer and swipes at him- he narrowly escapes into a storm drain. The next morning, his coat wet and his stomach grumbling, he begins once more to look for something- someone. Some food? Where to find food. He smells something in a garbage can and jumps inside. After knocking a bag out and tearing a hole in the side, a man comes outside and kicks him away. He meows at the man. Surely, he'll help? Nope. Just another kick, this time to the face. He scrambles away. The next night, he walks around a corner into an alleyway. Maybe he can find some food somewhere here. His face is still smarting from where the man kicked him. His eye is a little blurry. Maybe that's why he doesn't see the large tom cat approach from that side. A second later, he finds himself embroiled in his first real cat fight. The tom is large, and bites him in the tail- hard. He scurries away and hides. Awhile later, bleeding and exhausted, he falls asleep.
The cycle continues. He doesn't get enough to eat- most of these new people are cruel to him, and he isn't savvy enough to defend himself against seasoned street cats.
One day, he turns a corner around a house just as a woman comes out her front door. He prepares to run, but stops as he hears her call him. "Kitty, kitty. It's allright. Come here'' she says as she bends down and puts her hand out for him to smell. 'Let's get a look at you. You've not been getting enough to eat, have you? And you've got three absesses that I can see. Let's get you into the garage with some food and water, okay?' He let's her lift him up and walk him into an old, dusty garage. But there's a chair for him to lie on, and a window to look out of. She places an old towel on it, and puts him down. 'I'll be right back!' A few minutes later, she returns with some food and water. While he digs in, she leaves again, returning with an old cat pan filled with new litter. 'Let's see if you know how to use this, okay?' He does.
The next few weeks go well. She says she's keeping him there until she can afford to have him to the vet for tests. She puts him on anti-biotics for the absesses though, and he begins to heal. But, it's all too late. Just as he begins to feel better, the virus that he was given that first week on his own, in his first cat fight, begins to take hold. He loses weight. She deworms him. When that doesn't help, she knows. 'It's either FIV, FLV or FIP,' she tells her children. 'We'll know when it's time.' His last week comes, and she brings him into the garden while they work on the flower bed. He watches from under a tree, laying in the sunshine. His strength is almost gone, but it's nice here. The children are gentle, and he likes them. A big storm comes through later in the week, and he is frightened, and manages to get out of the garage. She sits with him on their front porch, feeding him boiled chicken and petting his fur until the storm passes. Then she takes her flashlight and puts him in the old dog kennel with a big horse blanket, his food water dish and litter box in the garage. He falls asleep. The next few days, he loses control of his bladder. This is embarrassing, but she doesn't get mad, just cleans him up, and continues to love him. On his last day, he can no longer walk. She comes in to check him at midnight, pets his head for several minutes and talks to him in a whisper. 'I'm sorry, Gus. I wish I could have done more. I'll come first thing in the morning.'
When she comes that morning, he can't see her any more. He is only semi-responsive. She brings a clean towel, and places him on it, talking all the while. He begins to purr. He knows her voice. He purrs at the vet clinic, until the medicine takes effect and he falls into forever sleep.
-----------------
For everyone thinking about getting a pet, but not sure if you'll be able to handle the responsibility, please think long and hard about the commitment. If the above is even a remote possibility, DON'T get the pet. If you have animals, PLEASE make sure to spay and neuter each one. If you still get the pet, and attempt to abandon your animal later on- I'll give you fair warning. You'd better HOPE you can outrun me.
I had Gus put down this morning at 8 am. I only knew him for a couple months, but I'm glad I was here for him when no one else was. Rest in peace, Gus. In the end- you were loved.
