A bit of backstory: My first year or so after a difficult breakup a few years ago meant a big, lonely house and a total lack of focus. Eventually, a group of stray kitties started appearing around the house, checking to see what was up. I eventually made some storage-bin shelters and a good friend donated her "Dogloo". The two kitties that I saw most were "Blackie" and "Greygirl" (A DSH bi-color with the sweetest face). Blackie was sort of the "king" of the little group, everyone looking to take his lead. I remember a cute time where Blackie was just sitting in the grass and Greygirl was desperately trying to get him to play, tugging at him, doing little circles around him. It was very sweet. I always wondered what their relationship was, their history.
Blackie showed up one day with a wound on his head, likely a bite mark, in that bare area between their eye and ear. I watched it for awhile, and I had thought it was healing. Life for the kitties went on as usual. Then one day, it appeared again, and seemed to get worse over time. It was time to get Blackie to a vet.
As many of you can attest, getting a stray cat into a live-trap is quite a chore! And on a Saturday, of course.
. Blackie was pretty unhappy, clawing and biting and making the most horrific noises. I found one local vet that was open in the afternoon. I'd developed a real fondness for Blackie, I had a notion of perhaps getting him all taken care of and taking him in as my own. I can't explain it; it's not as though he were fun, nor even all that cute. I just felt close to him.
So, we get to the vet, I go in with him to the examination room; I explain the situation regarding Blackie's unknown history. The doctor says they'll just take all of the usual tests first, and then go from there. I guess I was pretty naive at that time regarding pets. I planned on picking him up in a few hours.
I get the call within the hour that Blackie was FIV-positive. I had just recently read something about it in a cat-advocacy magazine, but I'll be honest, I didn't know all that much about it. The nurse was very sweet and patient with all of my questions - and my bawling - and explained that it would probably be best to put him down. I literally had to have her repeat everything, since I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I made her tell me again that it was the best thing for Blackie. She said yes. I said to go ahead. I don't know if I made the right decision. I do hope she made the right one for me.
I didn't know this cat long. Hell, I didn't know him at all. But something about not having him around anymore make me a much sadder person, even now. The rest of his little gang, devoid of their leader, stopped coming around. I've since acquired new "garage friends". Perhaps I will tell their story later.
This is crazy, here I am at work, and I can't even type this without my eyes welling up. I just wanted to tell Blackie's story, to share him. If only as a singular living entity, he was important. But to me, has was truly something special.
Blackie showed up one day with a wound on his head, likely a bite mark, in that bare area between their eye and ear. I watched it for awhile, and I had thought it was healing. Life for the kitties went on as usual. Then one day, it appeared again, and seemed to get worse over time. It was time to get Blackie to a vet.
As many of you can attest, getting a stray cat into a live-trap is quite a chore! And on a Saturday, of course.
So, we get to the vet, I go in with him to the examination room; I explain the situation regarding Blackie's unknown history. The doctor says they'll just take all of the usual tests first, and then go from there. I guess I was pretty naive at that time regarding pets. I planned on picking him up in a few hours.
I get the call within the hour that Blackie was FIV-positive. I had just recently read something about it in a cat-advocacy magazine, but I'll be honest, I didn't know all that much about it. The nurse was very sweet and patient with all of my questions - and my bawling - and explained that it would probably be best to put him down. I literally had to have her repeat everything, since I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I made her tell me again that it was the best thing for Blackie. She said yes. I said to go ahead. I don't know if I made the right decision. I do hope she made the right one for me.
I didn't know this cat long. Hell, I didn't know him at all. But something about not having him around anymore make me a much sadder person, even now. The rest of his little gang, devoid of their leader, stopped coming around. I've since acquired new "garage friends". Perhaps I will tell their story later.
This is crazy, here I am at work, and I can't even type this without my eyes welling up. I just wanted to tell Blackie's story, to share him. If only as a singular living entity, he was important. But to me, has was truly something special.
