For a while, I was down to two cabin cats–Frankie, a female siamese and Koshari, a male black and white tabby. That was about right. Then some nitwit returned two kittens she talked me into letting her have in the first place, Argento and Blazer. A few weeks later, someone else dumped this cute little short-haired calico female on me–in both instances, without my knowledge or consent. I just returned home, and found extra cats. Then a really sweet and exotic long-haired calico female stray showed up and I just had to keep her.
Plus there are Peachy and Hohner–two big toms who were born in the cabin, but just show up now and then for food, and a couple of strays I haven’t named.
Blazer has been a problem. He gets underfoot, I kept stumbling over him and stepping on him and kicking him out of the way. I was genuinely concerned that I might really fall over him and break a bone–I have this genetic predisposition to osteoporosis. Plus he is the only cat who claws me–got me pretty good (drew blood) twice in one day. Plus he is bigger than the other cats and takes up more room on the bed–much of which is taken up by a glass-front display case I got to use at gun shows, so I have to sleep sort of diagonally.
Then he got sick–lots of diarrhea, shit and vomit on the floor, started spending a lot of time under the bed and sleeping more than normal. So I finally put him down, and placed his body up on the hill behind my cabin for the scavengers and elements to take care of–which is what I would prefer to have done with my own corpse when I’m done with it, BTW. It was quick and painless, and far more humane than putting him in the local shelter, where he would have suffered a lot before they killed him–only one out of twenty cats gets adopted, and conditions there are so bad that twice in the last three years, ALL the dogs and cats got sick and they were ALL killed. But I digress.
Got back into the cabin and lost it. Cried like my heart was broken, bawled and sobbed and wailed until tears and snot were running down my face, and my throat hurt and my stomach hurt. Wiped my face, dried my eyes–and cried and cried some more.As a rule, I am a fairly cold-hearted old fart, but even though I have a soft spot for critters, I was surprised at all the waterworks. Thing is, I had been stressed out lately anyway–the weather has been lousy, I only earned $37 in the last two weeks, my 10×12 foot cabin has been seeming more cramped than usual lately, my eyesight and general health has been getting worse, some family issues had been coming to a head, some recent unpleasantness on a board I mod at took an emotional toll, yadda yadda yadda.
Even so, I still almost put down Koshari while I was at it–he has been sick a lot lately, too, and getting more and more like his big brother, who I hardly ever see.But I flipped a coin, and he “won.” I was relieved. At least he won’t be having kittens. I’d have all the females spayed, but I can’t afford it, and will most likely give away all of Frankie’s next litter. And by the time they get old enough to give away, I will have bonded with them.
Sigh.
But that is life when you have critters, whether you are a pet owner or musher or farmer. Sometimes you have to make some tough decisions and live with them.
Like my wife told me so many years ago, it’s a hard life–but it’s a good life. Just exactly as good as I decide to make it.
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Comments (1)
I wish that I could let myself go like that and get some of this shit out. I envy you.