Three weeks ago on the 22nd I had to bury my
cat. She was 10 or older..the age where its been so long that you can't quite
remember their age.
The previous Friday, she went out during a
thunderstorm, and despite us calling her in, decided to stay out for the night.
She never turned up in the morning. When I came home from visiting a friend in Bristol
on Monday night, we found her outside the back door wanting to come in. She limped
in through the door, and soon it was evident something wasn't right. We took
her through to the kitchen and gave her a pot of milk and noticed she was
bleeding. We assume a fox attacked her, but she got away.
When we arrived at the vets he checked her
out and gave a diagnosis. She had fly strike, which is when flies attack a wound
and lay their eggs in it. As the weather at the time was something like 30 degrees at the
time, the eggs had hatched quickly, and to be blunt, she had maggots wriggling
around in her ass. The vet said it was too late for anything reasonable to be done.
Watching her being put down was hard, but I
just broke when my dad said something along the lines of "it'll be me next
in another 10 or 20 more years". At the time, my mum was working, so as anyone would
be, she was sad that she was not there at the time she died.
Dealing it wasn't easy, straight after supper
on the night I went to look for her to play with her, and for about a week
after I kept looking out of the windows at night, expecting her to be waiting to
be let in.
To me, she was the closest thing I've ever
had to a sister, and will be impossible to replace, whether it's personal attachment
or not i'm not sure, however i've never found a cat that is more friendly, sociable,
and relaxed than her.
R.I.P. Kitty, you will be missed.
