One of my little ferals is gone. I hadn't seen her in a few days, but that's nothing unusual. They're in and out all the time. Late this afternoon, I spotted her behind the shrubs in front of my apartment, already moribund. By then, her breath rate was only 6 per minutes, and she was in and out of consciousness. I ran in the house and got a big, fluffy towel and a pair of medical gloves, and managed to get her cuddled down on the towel, still behind the bushes, where she was protected. I put food and water near her, although I knew, I knew, that it was far past the time for that. I sat with her for a few minutes, and told her how loved she was, and how much her sweet face would be missed, and about the Rainbow bridge. Then I left her. It was SO hard to do, but Skittles is...was...a true feral, and I knew she wouldn't really relax with me there. I came out and checked on her from a little distance every hour or so, and at midnight, I knew she was well and truly gone. She is now wrapped in padoubled plastic bags, and then tied securely into a Hefty bag, inside a plastic tote on my porch. A dear friend will come by VERY early in the morning and take her to the place where he has buried his pets. He says that it is beautiful and peaceful, and filled with birdsong, and she can sleep peacefully.
Rest you gently, Skittles, dream you deep. You pawprints are on my heart forever, little wild girl. Run in eternal sunshine, and I'll catch you later!
Rest you gently, Skittles, dream you deep. You pawprints are on my heart forever, little wild girl. Run in eternal sunshine, and I'll catch you later!