We miss you already Lord Grantham
Feb 6, 2020 19:27:14 GMT -5
Woody Williams and featherduster like this
Post by Deleted on Feb 6, 2020 19:27:14 GMT -5
We miss you already Lord Grantham
My wife, although being a very little woman, is a big presence, and has a heart the size of Texas-especially when it comes to animals. She carries a gallon-freezer bag of cat food in the trunk of her car in the event she sees an animal while she`s driving, that “looks hungry”. And as much as I`ve scolded her, it still doesn`t matter the time of day or night, the area or neighborhood, if she sees a dog or cat that she is sure needs to be fed, she does her best to feed that animal.
She and I both have allergies, she`s had hers for years, mine developed later in life, but our allergies are a hindrance to having pets. We do have an indoor-only cat: Carlie, but we can manage with her because she`s a longhair girl, not the standard short-hair tabby that ends up with hair suspended in the air and hair all over everything. We`ve had “basement” cats, and even garage cats, at times when she found and rescued short-hair cats, and not being able to keep them in the living space was not going to deter her. She found Big-Boy, and he was true to his name. I had never seen a domestic house cat the size of this cat. He was literally the size of a bobcat. Big-boy had been dumped down the street, and it took her months to win his trust to even come inside the garage to eat, but with time, and her patience, eventually she won him over, and he lived and slept in the garage, going out during the day to sunbathe and roll in the dust.
She found Jacki at a McDonald's on the west-side of Indianapolis. She was in the drive-thru lane and watched Jacki, an almost ridiculously small cat, slink up to a man putting food trash into a trashcan, begging for something to eat. She watched as this goon kicked Jacki eight feet into the bushes, laughed, and walked away. She bought extra food and drove back around and parked. She was able to coax her out, feed her, then bring her home. Jacki spent three days in the garage, only getting out from under the warm blankets in her carrier to eat and drink and use the litter box, before crawling back into her warmth and sleeping. Jacki had to have three separate eye surgeries because someone found it to be great sport to shoot her multiple times throughout her head and body with a pellet gun. Her left eye never was ok again, and occasionally, she bled from her rectum, but she lived a wonderful life here with us until she, like Big-Boy, passed.
She rescued Carlie around the same time she began working to gain Big-Boy`s trust. Carlie was dumped down on the corner at the same time Big-Boy was, but Carlie was a much easier sell. Carlie gladly and easily came into the house and ate, slept, and played in safety. She`s 14 years old now, and as a lot of elderly kitties do, has kidney disease, and other ailments. She isn`t eating much these days, and sleeps most of each day away, and we`re trying to prepare ourselves for the inevitable time that she`ll leave us too.
About four months ago, my wife told me of a sighting of a new cat in the neighborhood. After seeing him multiple times over several weeks, she said she thought he was a stray. She saw where he was sleeping, and whenever she called to him, he fled, and wanted nothing to do with a meet and greet. She was persistent, and gradually won his trust enough that not only was he coming to our fenced in patio each day to eat food she left out for him, but he finally began to come to her and allow her to pet him. She worked for weeks to earn his trust, and try to make him more tame. He wasn`t feral, but wasn`t that far from it either. She believed he had been dumped since we`d never seen him before, and so hoped to be able to get him to the vet, have him checked for a chip, and get him neutered. We didn`t want him making even more un-cared for kittens, and, hoped it would make him less prone to fighting. Usually when we`d see him, he had battle scars on his nose and under his eyes. We guessed him to be about two years old or so, and he was a big, thick cat, obviously strong and in his prime. We`re both fans of the series Downton Abbey, and so, because we thought it was cute, we dubbed him Lord Grantham. As we were able to gain his trust, he started allowing us to love on him after he ate, and he loved to be petted, and had an incredibly sweet and soft meow for a tom-cat.
I got the text from my wife this morning while I was at work. She saw Lord Grantham out the window on his way to his food bowl, and she went out the back door to meet him. She saw that he was limping, and as she got him closer, she could see he was muddy and bloody. He had wounds all over his face, and his body as well. We have no idea what he was fighting this last time, but he was very badly hurt. There was never any question as to what we were going to do, even on our retirement income, so she called the vet right away, and they said if she could get him there, they`d see him. She was able to get him into a carrier, and off to the vet they went. We figured it would be well into the hundreds of dollars to get him healed up, but we couldn`t just leave him hurt this bad, and besides, we were still hoping that getting him fixed would make the fighting disappear. The vet examined Lord Grantham, and pointed out to my wife all the fresh wounds, including an infected older wound on his tail. He said they could patch him up, and neuter him, but first they needed to run blood work to make sure his numbers were all fine. She texted me back at work with the awful news: he had feline HIV. Sadly, feline HIV is a death sentence for cats. Not only do they suffer continuing health issues as their immune system becomes more and more compromised, but feline HIV is incredibly infectious, and it`s actually illegal to knowingly put an infected animal back out, because it`s certain to also infect any other animals that come in contact with him.
We had to have Lord Grantham put to sleep this afternoon. It is an incredibly sad day and evening for us. We thought we were taking him in to be patched up, neutered, and bring him back home to introduce him to the garage life. Instead, because of the thoughtlessness and selfishness of whoever dumped him, this very, very sweet and loving two year old cat, in the prime of his life and soon to have all the food, treats, toys, and affection he could ever want, is gone. We`ll never know at what point in his life he contracted feline HIV, and we`ll never know how many other kitties have been infected simply because they came in contact with Lord Grantham. We only know that all of this was entirely unnecessary and preventable. Please, if you have pets, please have them spayed or neutered, and please keep them indoors as much as possible to help prevent the spread of all infectious diseases, especially cats. As silly as it may sound to some, we are grieving tonight at the loss of Lord Grantham, and this all was so preventable.
We miss you already Lord Grantham.
My wife, although being a very little woman, is a big presence, and has a heart the size of Texas-especially when it comes to animals. She carries a gallon-freezer bag of cat food in the trunk of her car in the event she sees an animal while she`s driving, that “looks hungry”. And as much as I`ve scolded her, it still doesn`t matter the time of day or night, the area or neighborhood, if she sees a dog or cat that she is sure needs to be fed, she does her best to feed that animal.
She and I both have allergies, she`s had hers for years, mine developed later in life, but our allergies are a hindrance to having pets. We do have an indoor-only cat: Carlie, but we can manage with her because she`s a longhair girl, not the standard short-hair tabby that ends up with hair suspended in the air and hair all over everything. We`ve had “basement” cats, and even garage cats, at times when she found and rescued short-hair cats, and not being able to keep them in the living space was not going to deter her. She found Big-Boy, and he was true to his name. I had never seen a domestic house cat the size of this cat. He was literally the size of a bobcat. Big-boy had been dumped down the street, and it took her months to win his trust to even come inside the garage to eat, but with time, and her patience, eventually she won him over, and he lived and slept in the garage, going out during the day to sunbathe and roll in the dust.
She found Jacki at a McDonald's on the west-side of Indianapolis. She was in the drive-thru lane and watched Jacki, an almost ridiculously small cat, slink up to a man putting food trash into a trashcan, begging for something to eat. She watched as this goon kicked Jacki eight feet into the bushes, laughed, and walked away. She bought extra food and drove back around and parked. She was able to coax her out, feed her, then bring her home. Jacki spent three days in the garage, only getting out from under the warm blankets in her carrier to eat and drink and use the litter box, before crawling back into her warmth and sleeping. Jacki had to have three separate eye surgeries because someone found it to be great sport to shoot her multiple times throughout her head and body with a pellet gun. Her left eye never was ok again, and occasionally, she bled from her rectum, but she lived a wonderful life here with us until she, like Big-Boy, passed.
She rescued Carlie around the same time she began working to gain Big-Boy`s trust. Carlie was dumped down on the corner at the same time Big-Boy was, but Carlie was a much easier sell. Carlie gladly and easily came into the house and ate, slept, and played in safety. She`s 14 years old now, and as a lot of elderly kitties do, has kidney disease, and other ailments. She isn`t eating much these days, and sleeps most of each day away, and we`re trying to prepare ourselves for the inevitable time that she`ll leave us too.
About four months ago, my wife told me of a sighting of a new cat in the neighborhood. After seeing him multiple times over several weeks, she said she thought he was a stray. She saw where he was sleeping, and whenever she called to him, he fled, and wanted nothing to do with a meet and greet. She was persistent, and gradually won his trust enough that not only was he coming to our fenced in patio each day to eat food she left out for him, but he finally began to come to her and allow her to pet him. She worked for weeks to earn his trust, and try to make him more tame. He wasn`t feral, but wasn`t that far from it either. She believed he had been dumped since we`d never seen him before, and so hoped to be able to get him to the vet, have him checked for a chip, and get him neutered. We didn`t want him making even more un-cared for kittens, and, hoped it would make him less prone to fighting. Usually when we`d see him, he had battle scars on his nose and under his eyes. We guessed him to be about two years old or so, and he was a big, thick cat, obviously strong and in his prime. We`re both fans of the series Downton Abbey, and so, because we thought it was cute, we dubbed him Lord Grantham. As we were able to gain his trust, he started allowing us to love on him after he ate, and he loved to be petted, and had an incredibly sweet and soft meow for a tom-cat.
I got the text from my wife this morning while I was at work. She saw Lord Grantham out the window on his way to his food bowl, and she went out the back door to meet him. She saw that he was limping, and as she got him closer, she could see he was muddy and bloody. He had wounds all over his face, and his body as well. We have no idea what he was fighting this last time, but he was very badly hurt. There was never any question as to what we were going to do, even on our retirement income, so she called the vet right away, and they said if she could get him there, they`d see him. She was able to get him into a carrier, and off to the vet they went. We figured it would be well into the hundreds of dollars to get him healed up, but we couldn`t just leave him hurt this bad, and besides, we were still hoping that getting him fixed would make the fighting disappear. The vet examined Lord Grantham, and pointed out to my wife all the fresh wounds, including an infected older wound on his tail. He said they could patch him up, and neuter him, but first they needed to run blood work to make sure his numbers were all fine. She texted me back at work with the awful news: he had feline HIV. Sadly, feline HIV is a death sentence for cats. Not only do they suffer continuing health issues as their immune system becomes more and more compromised, but feline HIV is incredibly infectious, and it`s actually illegal to knowingly put an infected animal back out, because it`s certain to also infect any other animals that come in contact with him.
We had to have Lord Grantham put to sleep this afternoon. It is an incredibly sad day and evening for us. We thought we were taking him in to be patched up, neutered, and bring him back home to introduce him to the garage life. Instead, because of the thoughtlessness and selfishness of whoever dumped him, this very, very sweet and loving two year old cat, in the prime of his life and soon to have all the food, treats, toys, and affection he could ever want, is gone. We`ll never know at what point in his life he contracted feline HIV, and we`ll never know how many other kitties have been infected simply because they came in contact with Lord Grantham. We only know that all of this was entirely unnecessary and preventable. Please, if you have pets, please have them spayed or neutered, and please keep them indoors as much as possible to help prevent the spread of all infectious diseases, especially cats. As silly as it may sound to some, we are grieving tonight at the loss of Lord Grantham, and this all was so preventable.
We miss you already Lord Grantham.
