I suppose this could have been in the Rainbow bridge section, but anyone who's ever read one of my TNR posts has seen me write about this guy.....
One of the ferals in our neighborhood where we've been TNRing had become quite the fixture. A big old orange tiger called him Harry (I'm ashamed to admit my husband named him after the character "Headwound Harry" on Saturday Night Live years ago). Harry showed up last summer with what we think was a losing run-in with a car....a big, 4 in x 7 in tire-sized patch of fur, skin, perhaps even muscle missing from his side. He looked miserable, & we kept thinking he'd be gone ( in every sense) shortly. That was last summer. That tough old boy just kept popping up all thru the winter....eating from our feeding stations (& the neighbors), sleeping in our heated cat shelters. We tried to trap him to get a better look & get him to a vet a year now.....but he was always smarter than us.
Until today. We caught Harry right before a local vet (who'd agreed to look at him if we ever got him) closed. My husband & I couldn't bring ourselves to look at his side....just kept peeking at his face in the covered trap, talking softly. He was a true feral & I knew he was terrified. But the vet walked in & before hearing or seeing anything said "I smell bad infection." She took the towel off the cage (I couldn't look-& I'm usually pretty decent with injuries---but Harry almost felt like one of my own.)I had huge respect for this survivor. Never closer than 4 feet - but we seemed to both appreciate the "passing near the feeder" every morning. There was something comforting about seeing Harry there- regardless of injured state. But with that proclamation from the vet, I knew it. No more sideways glances at each other at the feeder ....no more yells up the steps to my husband saying "Harry's back!!! after a sighting in the feeder or him coming, stretching out of one of our heated shelters.
The vet said he'd opened the wound on his side & it was deep. It likely involved muscle, perhaps even organs. And it was headed to necrotic. She said what was already running through my head in big flashing yellow type "he's a cat...but he's also a wild animAl. We could try to save him-it's possible but not probable-& would involve months of surgeries. Changing bandages every few days & bringing him in for injections every few weeks. Surely that's not even possible -the stress alone might kill him. Plus the chances that he's carrying FIP, etc is high-this one area looks like a deep bite." I knew she was right. She mercifully took him back at that moment, after letting my husband & I whisper quietly "goodbye Harry" to him.
I know he was facing misery....the smell of infection alone made him a walking prey billboard. But even in a pretty cut & dry situation -it's SO hard!! I know at least his last year he never had one day without access to fresh water, good food ( sometimes even mackerel or pork roast leftovers), and his choice of 3 cat shelters with heat & tons of clean straw. But ultimately I feel I somehow let him down ....if only ...if only we'd been able to trap him sooner maybe we could have fixed something before it was so out of control....if only...if only.
I cried all the way home....and still keep feeling my eyes we'll up when I look out at the backyard shelters & feeding station.....knowing no more Harry.
For all of you out there who TNR....care for ferals.....hopefully you understand and agree we made the right decision. Such a hard one. And it never gets easier. But this guy.....from a minimum of 4 feet away.....even at that distance Harry wormed his way into our heart. Harry will be missed
One of the ferals in our neighborhood where we've been TNRing had become quite the fixture. A big old orange tiger called him Harry (I'm ashamed to admit my husband named him after the character "Headwound Harry" on Saturday Night Live years ago). Harry showed up last summer with what we think was a losing run-in with a car....a big, 4 in x 7 in tire-sized patch of fur, skin, perhaps even muscle missing from his side. He looked miserable, & we kept thinking he'd be gone ( in every sense) shortly. That was last summer. That tough old boy just kept popping up all thru the winter....eating from our feeding stations (& the neighbors), sleeping in our heated cat shelters. We tried to trap him to get a better look & get him to a vet a year now.....but he was always smarter than us.
Until today. We caught Harry right before a local vet (who'd agreed to look at him if we ever got him) closed. My husband & I couldn't bring ourselves to look at his side....just kept peeking at his face in the covered trap, talking softly. He was a true feral & I knew he was terrified. But the vet walked in & before hearing or seeing anything said "I smell bad infection." She took the towel off the cage (I couldn't look-& I'm usually pretty decent with injuries---but Harry almost felt like one of my own.)I had huge respect for this survivor. Never closer than 4 feet - but we seemed to both appreciate the "passing near the feeder" every morning. There was something comforting about seeing Harry there- regardless of injured state. But with that proclamation from the vet, I knew it. No more sideways glances at each other at the feeder ....no more yells up the steps to my husband saying "Harry's back!!! after a sighting in the feeder or him coming, stretching out of one of our heated shelters.
The vet said he'd opened the wound on his side & it was deep. It likely involved muscle, perhaps even organs. And it was headed to necrotic. She said what was already running through my head in big flashing yellow type "he's a cat...but he's also a wild animAl. We could try to save him-it's possible but not probable-& would involve months of surgeries. Changing bandages every few days & bringing him in for injections every few weeks. Surely that's not even possible -the stress alone might kill him. Plus the chances that he's carrying FIP, etc is high-this one area looks like a deep bite." I knew she was right. She mercifully took him back at that moment, after letting my husband & I whisper quietly "goodbye Harry" to him.
I know he was facing misery....the smell of infection alone made him a walking prey billboard. But even in a pretty cut & dry situation -it's SO hard!! I know at least his last year he never had one day without access to fresh water, good food ( sometimes even mackerel or pork roast leftovers), and his choice of 3 cat shelters with heat & tons of clean straw. But ultimately I feel I somehow let him down ....if only ...if only we'd been able to trap him sooner maybe we could have fixed something before it was so out of control....if only...if only.
I cried all the way home....and still keep feeling my eyes we'll up when I look out at the backyard shelters & feeding station.....knowing no more Harry.
For all of you out there who TNR....care for ferals.....hopefully you understand and agree we made the right decision. Such a hard one. And it never gets easier. But this guy.....from a minimum of 4 feet away.....even at that distance Harry wormed his way into our heart. Harry will be missed
