For at least a month or more, a sickly yellow tom (presumably a tom going by the color) has been in our neighborhood. It was obvious that the poor boy had a raging infection of some sort. His face had been swollen as if he had an abscess somewhere, but he would never allow anyone close enough to get a look. He also managed to skilfully avoid being humanely trapped for a trip to the clinic to be TTVNR'ed or sent to foster care if he could have been adoptable.
Judging by his daytime wanderings and his extremely unkempt appearance (which may well have been due to his illness)-- he was probably not feral, but rather a stray or "dump" who had been trying to fend for himself and live on handouts. He was in bad shape when I first saw him, and he was steadily getting worse. But we never could capture him...
That is, until tonight. We had a lot of storms in the area, but nothing active in the immediate area. Most of the stuff was "avoiding" us but there were severe storms literally within miles of us. I went out to the garden, and there was Yellow Tom, laying as if he was resting in the grass. His head was up and he looked like he was resting but very tired.
I went in and made up a plate of food and pinched a little catnip from the plant and offered it to him. But he was just too weak to eat, and perhaps couldn't smell the catnip if he had a URI. I sat in his general area, not too close so as not to frighten him, and spoke quietly to him. I told him that I was going to figure out a way to get him up and into the vet for some help and relief-- whatever it meant to relieve his suffering, even if it was euthanasia. Looking into his eyes, I could see he was already distant... like he was... somewhere else.
I knew then, this cat was dying. He would not make it through the night. It was up to me to help him to make the journey across the Bridge, to StarClan's Hunting Grounds. I went inside and told my DH what was happening, and that we needed to take this cat to the 24 hour vet to have him put to sleep. This should have taken less than an hour. We were getting ready to go to supper but I believed that this took priority, and supper could be a little late. My man balked! He actually complained because it was going to make HIS dinner late.
I said, "Fine. I will go outside, catch the cat and place him in a carrier. He's so weak I can just pick him up. Then I will call a cab and have the cab take us to the vet. If you can't postpone your dinner for an act of kindness to a dying creature like this cat, then I'll do it myself." He muttered something about me being a manipulative B trying to impose a guilt trip on him, but you know what? I wasn't completely listening. I heard all I needed to hear from him.
I grabbed some towels and a cardboard box and went out to the garden, but the cat had vanished. I have a lot of very tall flowers around the fence line and Skye loves to hide in there. I scanned the flowers in case Yellow Tom had taken refuge there. No sign of him. There is a dilapidated shed in the yard that the landlord had promised to remove years ago. We are still waiting. The shed's still falling apart. And of course, he scooted under it as his hiding place.
Great. A sick, dying cat is now under the shed where no one can reach him.
A short time later it began to rain and thunder. It only lasted a few moments. When it broke, my DH went outside. A minute later, he came back in... "Mackie, you need to come outside RIGHT NOW." Yellow Tom had come out from under the shed, made it about 6 feet, then collapsed. He was in obvious distress-- he was obviously now in his last moments. I scooped him up in some towels and placed him in a cardboard box. He struggled in fear when I picked him up at first. But he only had the energy to fight for a few seconds. I then placed him safely in a carrier with another towel for comfort and security, and told my DH to take us to the clinic-- NOW.
He still refused.
Since I don't drive, the only option I had was to call the city to take him for humane euthanasia. The weather in the area has been very stormy today (as in tornadoes)... things were held up slightly, but Animal Services arrived within an hour. I placed the poor cat in the carrier on my covered porch, out of the rain and mud and wind and covered it with a towel to make it quiet and dark for him. About 20 minutes later, he began to howl and wail. My man looked inside and the cat howled even more. DH looked at me and quietly said, "I think that's his death cry...".
I couldn't answer. I didn't know how to answer without doing it with all claws extended. Had DH simply grabbed his keys and taken us to the 24 hour vet 4.5 miles away-- the cat could have passed quietly and peacefully. I don't know what a dying creature's awareness level is on the most primal instinct... is the sensation of pain gone, or is it magnified at the moment of death? We don't know what the dying feel or experience, other than anecdotally, and with little consistency at that in the cases of people who relate "death" or "near-death" experiences. Cats surely can't tell us anything. They seldom tell us that they're hurting anyway until the pain is unbearable... or they're near death.
At that moment, DH insisted on going to supper. I reluctantly went simply to keep the peace. But I spent a few moments with Yellow Tom-- telling him how sorry I was, that I couldn't have done more to help him then or before it got to the point it was at now.
When we got home an hour later, Animal Services had just arrived. I met the officer and told her the story. I asked if she had been up to the porch where he was in the carrier... she had. Had he passed away? Yes-- he passed while we were at supper. Apparently the wail was his death cry...
She took the report and gathered up his little body, and took him away. This may have just been a neighborhood stray to "SOME"... but he was still a living creature who deserved better than this. I hoped he would know in a corner of his strawberry-sized kitty heart that I cared for him and didn't want him to suffer. He truly deserved better. Whether a cruel family left him behind, or he got lost or whatever happened-- he deserved a better life than the one he was dealt. He certainly deserved a more dignified and peaceful death than crying in a strange carrier on someone's front porch during a thunderstorm-- and a better life than being a miserable stray left to die of illness, alone...
And a moment of selfishness... I think I deserved better than dealing with this poor guy all alone yet with an audience made up of someone who "preaches" compassion-- but doesn't live it.
Yes. I would have had him in a cab on the way to the 24 hour clinic had I been able to catch him the first time I saw him this evening... I share some of the blame, but not all. I should have just skipped the supper and gotten the cab and had him PTS at the clinic instead of calling Animal Services, waiting for them to show and having the poor cat's last moments be spent crying and fearful...
I'm so sorry, Yellow Tom. You deserved much better...
~MackieMac
Judging by his daytime wanderings and his extremely unkempt appearance (which may well have been due to his illness)-- he was probably not feral, but rather a stray or "dump" who had been trying to fend for himself and live on handouts. He was in bad shape when I first saw him, and he was steadily getting worse. But we never could capture him...
That is, until tonight. We had a lot of storms in the area, but nothing active in the immediate area. Most of the stuff was "avoiding" us but there were severe storms literally within miles of us. I went out to the garden, and there was Yellow Tom, laying as if he was resting in the grass. His head was up and he looked like he was resting but very tired.
I went in and made up a plate of food and pinched a little catnip from the plant and offered it to him. But he was just too weak to eat, and perhaps couldn't smell the catnip if he had a URI. I sat in his general area, not too close so as not to frighten him, and spoke quietly to him. I told him that I was going to figure out a way to get him up and into the vet for some help and relief-- whatever it meant to relieve his suffering, even if it was euthanasia. Looking into his eyes, I could see he was already distant... like he was... somewhere else.
I knew then, this cat was dying. He would not make it through the night. It was up to me to help him to make the journey across the Bridge, to StarClan's Hunting Grounds. I went inside and told my DH what was happening, and that we needed to take this cat to the 24 hour vet to have him put to sleep. This should have taken less than an hour. We were getting ready to go to supper but I believed that this took priority, and supper could be a little late. My man balked! He actually complained because it was going to make HIS dinner late.
I said, "Fine. I will go outside, catch the cat and place him in a carrier. He's so weak I can just pick him up. Then I will call a cab and have the cab take us to the vet. If you can't postpone your dinner for an act of kindness to a dying creature like this cat, then I'll do it myself." He muttered something about me being a manipulative B trying to impose a guilt trip on him, but you know what? I wasn't completely listening. I heard all I needed to hear from him.
I grabbed some towels and a cardboard box and went out to the garden, but the cat had vanished. I have a lot of very tall flowers around the fence line and Skye loves to hide in there. I scanned the flowers in case Yellow Tom had taken refuge there. No sign of him. There is a dilapidated shed in the yard that the landlord had promised to remove years ago. We are still waiting. The shed's still falling apart. And of course, he scooted under it as his hiding place.
Great. A sick, dying cat is now under the shed where no one can reach him.
A short time later it began to rain and thunder. It only lasted a few moments. When it broke, my DH went outside. A minute later, he came back in... "Mackie, you need to come outside RIGHT NOW." Yellow Tom had come out from under the shed, made it about 6 feet, then collapsed. He was in obvious distress-- he was obviously now in his last moments. I scooped him up in some towels and placed him in a cardboard box. He struggled in fear when I picked him up at first. But he only had the energy to fight for a few seconds. I then placed him safely in a carrier with another towel for comfort and security, and told my DH to take us to the clinic-- NOW.
He still refused.
Since I don't drive, the only option I had was to call the city to take him for humane euthanasia. The weather in the area has been very stormy today (as in tornadoes)... things were held up slightly, but Animal Services arrived within an hour. I placed the poor cat in the carrier on my covered porch, out of the rain and mud and wind and covered it with a towel to make it quiet and dark for him. About 20 minutes later, he began to howl and wail. My man looked inside and the cat howled even more. DH looked at me and quietly said, "I think that's his death cry...".
I couldn't answer. I didn't know how to answer without doing it with all claws extended. Had DH simply grabbed his keys and taken us to the 24 hour vet 4.5 miles away-- the cat could have passed quietly and peacefully. I don't know what a dying creature's awareness level is on the most primal instinct... is the sensation of pain gone, or is it magnified at the moment of death? We don't know what the dying feel or experience, other than anecdotally, and with little consistency at that in the cases of people who relate "death" or "near-death" experiences. Cats surely can't tell us anything. They seldom tell us that they're hurting anyway until the pain is unbearable... or they're near death.
At that moment, DH insisted on going to supper. I reluctantly went simply to keep the peace. But I spent a few moments with Yellow Tom-- telling him how sorry I was, that I couldn't have done more to help him then or before it got to the point it was at now.
When we got home an hour later, Animal Services had just arrived. I met the officer and told her the story. I asked if she had been up to the porch where he was in the carrier... she had. Had he passed away? Yes-- he passed while we were at supper. Apparently the wail was his death cry...
She took the report and gathered up his little body, and took him away. This may have just been a neighborhood stray to "SOME"... but he was still a living creature who deserved better than this. I hoped he would know in a corner of his strawberry-sized kitty heart that I cared for him and didn't want him to suffer. He truly deserved better. Whether a cruel family left him behind, or he got lost or whatever happened-- he deserved a better life than the one he was dealt. He certainly deserved a more dignified and peaceful death than crying in a strange carrier on someone's front porch during a thunderstorm-- and a better life than being a miserable stray left to die of illness, alone...
And a moment of selfishness... I think I deserved better than dealing with this poor guy all alone yet with an audience made up of someone who "preaches" compassion-- but doesn't live it.
Yes. I would have had him in a cab on the way to the 24 hour clinic had I been able to catch him the first time I saw him this evening... I share some of the blame, but not all. I should have just skipped the supper and gotten the cab and had him PTS at the clinic instead of calling Animal Services, waiting for them to show and having the poor cat's last moments be spent crying and fearful...
I'm so sorry, Yellow Tom. You deserved much better...
~MackieMac
