Dearest Gentle Readers,
You have asked, and I have held out, in equal parts to protect my heart, in case this story did not end how I was hoping it would end, as well as to protect the folks who made this all possible. So, go pop some popcorn, grab your favorite blanket, and let’s settle on the couch for a piping hot cup of tea, served, by yours truly….
In 2020, our beloved barn cat of 18 years started acting odd. Perplexed we took her to the veterinarian where they told us her retinas had ruptured overnight, causing her to become instantaneously blind, and after discussing her quality of life with the barn owner, we collectively euthanized her at the suggestion of our veterinarian. The loss of Lilly left us reeling, so The Nurse and I went to our local animal shelter, and asked them if they has any semi-feral cats who would maybe not be adoptable due to their disposition. The shelter had an older kitten, and they were elated we were willing to take the chance on a kitty who desperately needed a home, but was not highly adoptable. We had every intention of acclimating this cat in our climate controlled warm room, and having her fill the shoes of the sweet girl we had lost days prior.
Our animal shelter doesn’t have a veterinarian on staff though, so where they require a spay/neuter on all animals in their care, it is covered by the new adopter post-adoption. Knowing the animal shelter is very serious about their spay/neuter contracts, and wanting to stay on the right side of the law (They will totally take you to court if you breech your contract!) I decided to put this baby in my office until her spay was complete, just in case she became a floozy and took up with a traveling Tom.
As luck would have it, days after adopting her, Covid-19 hit in all it’s glory and inconvenience. Being that I am an American who is used to instant gratification, and had never lived through a pandemic before, I distinctly remember saying to The Nurse: “I’ll just keep these her in my office until the pandemic is over, and the veterinarians reopen for elective surgeries. This won’t last more than a week.”
These are words that would haunt me for a LONG time, as time droned on and our lives were categorized between two distinctly different time periods BC (Before Covid) and AC (After Covid). By the time the veterinarians opened back up for elective surgeries, Daphne had been living in our house, graduating from my office, and it was over a year and a half later. It was evident that where she was not fond of human interaction, she loved other cats greatly, but where she was able to live in our house with our other cats, life with her was not easy, because we could not catch her to trim her nails, put flea medication on her, or do any of the things you do with cats you can handle, however, because she had become accustomed to our home, I was struggling to make her into a barn cat. The thought of a human not being able to keep her safe, or control the narrative, made me so uneasy. She wasn’t an optimal house guest, destroying my furniture, eluding capture, becoming wise to a live trap, however I still loved her and wanted nothing but the best for her.
While all this was going on, and our world was falling apart due to the pandemic, I found an animal rescue that was local to me, where I was able to physically volunteer, an oddity during the times of Covid-19. It was the perfect situation for me, and after being in charge of the shit show for such a long time it was nice to just be a part of the shit show for a bit, and the time I volunteered there gave me something to keep my mind and heart busy during Covid, and long after. During one of my visits, I discussed my dilemma with the director of the animal rescue, and she eagerly informed me that they had the perfect solution for my girl.
There, they had an area specifically for feral and semi-feral cats where they could live with a colony of other cats, but minimal people, and it sounded like a wonderful idea. I had no idea what I was signing Daphne up for.
I felt fortunate to have this opportunity, knowing that many shelters were full, and agreed to relinquish my ownership of her to the rescue, with the understanding she would be well cared for in a controlled environment with food, enrichment, veterinary care and the companionship of other cats.
After Daphne was put into general population, I had gone to visit her, and this was the first time I had really been into this particular area. I noticed there was a film covering all the surfaces in this area, it was sort of a mixture of grime and the place felt sticky. I noticed the hose was leaking into the outdoor area, and questioned if that was why their floor was was wet/sticky. Quickly it was explained the hose was broken, and someone was going to fix it. Then there was the stench of the litter boxes and the fact there was diarrhea all over the floor/walls in this area. When I made mention of that, it was explained that many of the cats in this area also had bad litter box habits and sometimes due to stress and the constant change of food, paired with the fact these cats were given all the food that was not “good enough” for the other cats at the shelter, they would have diarrhea. My “spidey-senses” were starting to tingle with these excuses, however I was willing to buy those answers, giving into the fact it would be hard to keep any area with 100+ cats in it, clean, and in the end I had decided I should not look any further into this situation, as I kept reminding myself: “This is not going to mirror your home. It never was, and where it isn’t as clean as you might have wanted, at least Daphne is safe, not in jeopardy of being hit by a car, killed by a coyote, and she has access to food, water, and friends.”
As summer turned into fall/winter though I began to worry.
By this time, Daphne had an upper respiratory infection, with significant nasal discharge, and had lost a large bit of weight. I also noticed there was no heat present for these cats, and with the door kept open leading from the inside to the outside, it was the same temperature inside as it was the outside, and that hose that was leaking in the summer? It had never been repaired, so the entire area was nothing but a cesspool of feces, grime, water, hair, and just plain filth. I expressed my concerns to one of the main volunteers, and was assured they would have a veterinarian evaluate Daphne and she stated cats were fine without heat because they “would grow a winter coat, and be perfectly warm.” My concern was, Daphne had lost so much weight, she had no reserves in terms of fat to keep her warm, and with no blankets or other methods to stay dry and warm, I was worried for her.
As time progressed I continued to watch Daphne, and she just seemed to continue to fade. By this time I was worried enough about her, and she looked bad enough that I decided this was not a good living arrangement for her, so I asked if I could just adopt her and take her back home. I was told very matter a factly, “If you loved her that much, you shouldn’t have ever brought her here to begin with.”
All I could think was: “You’re right. This was a horrible decision.” and in my heart as I helplessly watched her sit there, in an unheated building, body hunched over, so thin you could count every vertebrae in her spine, with her runny eyes, snot leaking out of her face, trying to keep herself warm, I knew I had done something I had never in all my years of rescue done before.
I put an animal in a horrible situation, and every time I closed my eyes, that vision would continue to haunt me.
To be continued….
