Had to put down one of our cats this morning. He was a rescue kitty. You can’t tell from the picture and you could hardly tell anyway, but the left part of his lower jaw was missing. It was apparent he had suffered some kind of trauma – what, no one quite knew. His favorite spots were either on top of the refrigerator or the dryer in a basket. Either place he could be alone and undisturbed, where he could scare the shit out of people opening the refrigerator.
His teeth wore down on the left, one became infected and refused to heal and eventually the infection spread. It wasn’t the cost; it was the thought of putting Ren through all the surgeries for debridement and ending up with a PEG tube or something for feeding.
I told him I was so sorry. I worried repeatedly how he’d react when he woke up. Would he feel better? That’s all I hoped.
Oh! A story! I was thinking how sweet and almost shy he was and suddenly remembered the time he attacked a firefighter who came into my apartment to check something. Our outside alarms had been triggered repeatedly and the BFD was here going through each apartment in our building doing checks. The firefighter who came to my front door had on helmet, boots, and jacket. Ren – who, not only was neutered and declawed (he came to me that way) but really had just right-sided teeth – was sitting quietly at the end of the hallway. When those boots, helmet and jacket entered the doorway, like cannonshot Ren suddenly raced down the hall spitting, yeowing, and striking out with his front paws. Freaked us all out and stopped that firefighter in his tracks. I bravely scooped Ren up to save the poor man’s ‘life or limb.’
Oh yeah – and he would sleep on me….
Filed under: Cats |