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SOUNDING OFF ...

      I had to put another cat down today.  He was not my cat.  In fact, he did not belong to anyone.  He had no home, no warm spot to curl up in to escape the rain and cold, nobody to love him.  He had no name.  He came to me for the food I place on my back deck every morning and night.  He had been coming to me for several months and I tried, in vain, to trap him so that I could get him neutered and find a suitable place for him to spend the rest of his life.  But today, he didn't come for food, or a dry spot under my deck.  He came to die.  

    I hadn't seen him for several days and was beginning to worry about his safety.  It was not like him to miss a meal.  But the weather hadn't been pleasant and I thought he was seeking shelter in one of the places I imagined he goes to when it rains.   I believed he'd show himself when the weather cleared, as he had done after other rainy days.  When I caught a glimpse of him, walking through my back garden early this morning,  I was relieved.  He'd come back.  I thought nothing more of him, happy in the knowledge that he had survived the recent deluge and would be getting a full meal this day.  I went about the business of my morning.  

    I returned early in the afternoon and went to look out my back door and found him asleep in the makeshift shelter I had erected.  The shelter was actually a large dog carrier I had covered to shield it from the wind and rain.  It provided a relatively warm, dry place but had never been used by any cat I'd been feeding.  I found it odd that this feral male would choose to take a nap so close to my back door when he had never let me get within yards of him in the past.  I went outside to see if, perhaps, he had gained an element of trust and would allow me to share a space on the deck with him.  He didn't move when I opened the door.  He didn't move when I approached the carrier.  He didn't move when I bent down to speak gently to him to reassure him not to be afraid.  He looked up at me with sunken eyes and I got sick at what I saw.  I know that children may be reading this.  I know too that many of the adults who visit this site are as sensitive as I am and so I will spare you the details of the horrible state in which I found this cat.  I closed the door on the carrier, placed it in my car and drove to my vet.  

    The assistants in the vet's office were prepared for my visit.  I had alerted them that I'd be coming, but even they were horrified at this cat's condition.  I gave them the carrier and told them to save him if they could, or, if not, to put him down humanely.  I left in a daze, believing it was hopeless and soon he'd be out of his misery, but hoping that he'd be fine and I could tame him somehow and have him share my home.  I called the vet upon my return home and was told that they had had to put him down.  

    The thought of his suffering sickens me.  The thought of his pain is painful to me.  I know his pain is over now, but I can't help but think of the countless numbers of stray and lost cats for whom life itself is painful.  It's awful to contemplate  those that have sustained an injury or illness and are left to die painfully alone.  

    My daughter says it is one of her goals for all cats and dogs to be loved enough to be given a name.  That is my goal too.  The little cat that came to me would not die nameless.  He was "Hamlet." 

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