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On the way to work this morning, I ran into a small cat. As is my wont, I went over to pet it, and unlike many of them, it came towards me rather than dashing away. Running my hand down its back I got a bit of a shock as I felt bump-bump-bump each bone in its spine. A closer look revealed no collar, and a very very underweight little cat.
I dithered about what to do for a few moments, before reaching the firm conclusion that I couldn't just leave the poor thing to fend for itself, so I picked it up (to not a hint of protest) and took him home to try and figure out how best to help. After calling work to let them know I'd be late I tried the RSPCA. They weren't a great deal of help at first ("Stray cats are often thinner than domestic cats." Yeah, not this thin.) but after a bit of discussion they suggested that I knock on nearby doors to see if anyone know of a lost cat. I didn't think it terribly likely, as if it was lost it had clearly been so for a while, but after a quick trip to buy some cat food I checked up and down the street anyway - no luck.
I then found the nearest vet and gave them a call. I spoke to a nurse and she suggested I bring the cat in so they could at least check if it was chipped. We don't have a cat carrier, and it really didn't seem happy when we tried to put it in a basket, so I just carried it in my arms. It was about a twenty minute walk, and by the end it was getting a wee bit stressed and fractious, especially as cars went by. I tried to keep it calm, stroking it and speaking soothingly. I told it we were going to find its family, or find it a new family. Of course it didn't understand, but still, I feel as though maybe I shouldn't have been making promises.
I reached the vet, and sat down in the waiting room. When the nurse brought out the scanner it started to get quite upset and tried to bite me, and unfortunately there was no microchip. After it tried to bite me she suggested we put it in a cage. I figured it would be okay for a little while, but of course the poor mite was scared (with, it turns out, some justification), and this time managed to leave me with some choice teeth marks in my hand.
Shortly the vet came down and examined it. He shook his head and looked grave as he said he didn't think it was long for this world. There were the usual euphamisms, and they were very kind in reassuring me that I'd done the right thing in trying to help it, but that the best thing to do would be to give it a lethal dose of anaesthetic. He very decently offered not to charge, since it wasn't my cat. I think it was the right thing to do, and that it was better than leaving the poor mite to die a slow and painful death from starvation, but it was such a sweet little thing, and I can't help but feel a bit of a heel for not being able to save it.
Rest in peace, little cat.
I dithered about what to do for a few moments, before reaching the firm conclusion that I couldn't just leave the poor thing to fend for itself, so I picked it up (to not a hint of protest) and took him home to try and figure out how best to help. After calling work to let them know I'd be late I tried the RSPCA. They weren't a great deal of help at first ("Stray cats are often thinner than domestic cats." Yeah, not this thin.) but after a bit of discussion they suggested that I knock on nearby doors to see if anyone know of a lost cat. I didn't think it terribly likely, as if it was lost it had clearly been so for a while, but after a quick trip to buy some cat food I checked up and down the street anyway - no luck.
I then found the nearest vet and gave them a call. I spoke to a nurse and she suggested I bring the cat in so they could at least check if it was chipped. We don't have a cat carrier, and it really didn't seem happy when we tried to put it in a basket, so I just carried it in my arms. It was about a twenty minute walk, and by the end it was getting a wee bit stressed and fractious, especially as cars went by. I tried to keep it calm, stroking it and speaking soothingly. I told it we were going to find its family, or find it a new family. Of course it didn't understand, but still, I feel as though maybe I shouldn't have been making promises.
I reached the vet, and sat down in the waiting room. When the nurse brought out the scanner it started to get quite upset and tried to bite me, and unfortunately there was no microchip. After it tried to bite me she suggested we put it in a cage. I figured it would be okay for a little while, but of course the poor mite was scared (with, it turns out, some justification), and this time managed to leave me with some choice teeth marks in my hand.
Shortly the vet came down and examined it. He shook his head and looked grave as he said he didn't think it was long for this world. There were the usual euphamisms, and they were very kind in reassuring me that I'd done the right thing in trying to help it, but that the best thing to do would be to give it a lethal dose of anaesthetic. He very decently offered not to charge, since it wasn't my cat. I think it was the right thing to do, and that it was better than leaving the poor mite to die a slow and painful death from starvation, but it was such a sweet little thing, and I can't help but feel a bit of a heel for not being able to save it.
Rest in peace, little cat.
