Chicken was born in my neighbour's garden in the summer of 2012. I'd been feeding her mother for a while, so she had her kittens quite close to my house. There were six to begin with, but the second time I saw them there were only four.
Chicken is the one on the right here, with her sisters Twinkle and Sadie.
I coaxed them inside as soon as I could. I had a litter of slightly older feral born kittens at the same time, so that made them feel more comfortable. They were all full of worms and had colds to begin with, but they soon got better with treatment.
Chicken was the boldest of the four. She was the first to come indoors, the first to let me pet her, the first one to climb up into my lap. Her name wasn't always Chicken. At the time of caring for her litter, the older litter of three and five adult cats I had one older male called Harvey.
For Harvey, Five Years Gone.
He had trouble eating so I used to steam and mince up a chicken breast for him every day. She loved the taste of chicken. Whenever it was cooked I'd call "Harvey, chicken." and she would come too. So the name Chicken stuck.
She grew up to be a beautiful, loving, intelligent cat.
For the past five years Chicken, her three sisters and my other rescue cats have all lived here with access to a large enclose. I lost too many of the feral and rescue cats I loved on the road, so moving them all to a remote area where we could afford a big piece of land seemed like the best way to keep them safe.
Chicken loved it here.
She loved coming for walks up and down the lanes with me too. She was so bright and inquisitive. She had some really good friends among my other cats and I loved watching them all chase each other around their enclosure. Chicken had a way of swirling her tail as she ran that made it look as if she was spinning a lasso above her head.
She was perfect and I loved her with all my heart.
On Christmas Eve I noticed that she wasn't her usual self. She didn't want to eat and seemed to have no energy. I syringed as much food and water as I could into her and we took her to the vet the next day. Her blood tests showed a high white blood cell count, but we couldn't find any injuries on her. The vet gave her SubQ fluids, an injection of antibiotics and a course of oral antibiotics too.
She seemed a little better the next day and drank some water by herself, but by that evening she was having trouble breathing.
My husband took her to the vet first thing on the 27th. Half an hour later I got a call telling me "It's serious." Chicken had fluid around her lungs. The vet drained her chest cavity and took out a lot of pus. Somehow she'd got an infection, but the antibiotics weren't working. The vet said they would have to keep her in for a while, give her antibiotics through an IV and put her in an oxygen tent to help her breathe.
Of course we agreed. Anything to help our girl. But after he left my husband got a call telling him we should both come right away. Chicken's heart had stopped. The vet had managed to get it started again, but she was in a critical condition. We drove back, not daring to cry, praying to her all the way.
"Breathe Chicken. Please breathe my love. Just breathe."
She was gone by the time we got there. The vet and his team worked on her for as long as they could, but they couldn't bring her back.
Chicken. My beautiful girl. You made me laugh every day with your craziness, I'm so grateful that you chose to spend your life with me. I will never get over losing you. Lying you down in the cold, black earth was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
It wasn't meant to end this way.
Chicken is the one on the right here, with her sisters Twinkle and Sadie.
I coaxed them inside as soon as I could. I had a litter of slightly older feral born kittens at the same time, so that made them feel more comfortable. They were all full of worms and had colds to begin with, but they soon got better with treatment.
Chicken was the boldest of the four. She was the first to come indoors, the first to let me pet her, the first one to climb up into my lap. Her name wasn't always Chicken. At the time of caring for her litter, the older litter of three and five adult cats I had one older male called Harvey.
For Harvey, Five Years Gone.
He had trouble eating so I used to steam and mince up a chicken breast for him every day. She loved the taste of chicken. Whenever it was cooked I'd call "Harvey, chicken." and she would come too. So the name Chicken stuck.
She grew up to be a beautiful, loving, intelligent cat.
For the past five years Chicken, her three sisters and my other rescue cats have all lived here with access to a large enclose. I lost too many of the feral and rescue cats I loved on the road, so moving them all to a remote area where we could afford a big piece of land seemed like the best way to keep them safe.
Chicken loved it here.
She loved coming for walks up and down the lanes with me too. She was so bright and inquisitive. She had some really good friends among my other cats and I loved watching them all chase each other around their enclosure. Chicken had a way of swirling her tail as she ran that made it look as if she was spinning a lasso above her head.
She was perfect and I loved her with all my heart.
On Christmas Eve I noticed that she wasn't her usual self. She didn't want to eat and seemed to have no energy. I syringed as much food and water as I could into her and we took her to the vet the next day. Her blood tests showed a high white blood cell count, but we couldn't find any injuries on her. The vet gave her SubQ fluids, an injection of antibiotics and a course of oral antibiotics too.
She seemed a little better the next day and drank some water by herself, but by that evening she was having trouble breathing.
My husband took her to the vet first thing on the 27th. Half an hour later I got a call telling me "It's serious." Chicken had fluid around her lungs. The vet drained her chest cavity and took out a lot of pus. Somehow she'd got an infection, but the antibiotics weren't working. The vet said they would have to keep her in for a while, give her antibiotics through an IV and put her in an oxygen tent to help her breathe.
Of course we agreed. Anything to help our girl. But after he left my husband got a call telling him we should both come right away. Chicken's heart had stopped. The vet had managed to get it started again, but she was in a critical condition. We drove back, not daring to cry, praying to her all the way.
"Breathe Chicken. Please breathe my love. Just breathe."
She was gone by the time we got there. The vet and his team worked on her for as long as they could, but they couldn't bring her back.
Chicken. My beautiful girl. You made me laugh every day with your craziness, I'm so grateful that you chose to spend your life with me. I will never get over losing you. Lying you down in the cold, black earth was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
It wasn't meant to end this way.