Smudge
Today my cat Smudge, a dark grey tabby with a raccoon tail, was killed by a few of my dogs.
We'd let them out of the fence for a few minutes while we were feeding them, as usual. It's a fairly large fence (3000 square feet or so) but we still like to let them run on occasion.
Moments later, my wife heard a commotion and found her laying prone on the ground, with a nasty cut on her side.
We rushed her to the emergency vet, but they had broken her back, so she had to be put down. We buried her in the corner, beneath a hickory tree. The dirt was hard with the lack of rain, but it was no match for my desire to give her a burial.
The thing is, I never saw this coming. It's not so much the actual death (anyone who has pets, especially as many as we do, learns to deal with this part of it) but instead how she died that disturbs me.
The dogs that killed her are the same dogs that spent years with her, sitting side by side in the same house. They knew her, and had never made a move to harm her, or any cat we own. I don't know what triggered them.
They're just mutts, as well- strays we picked up off the road- not Pit Bulls or Rottweilers or any other breed that (although this is certainly debatable) might be bent towards aggression. It just doesn't make sense.
My only theory is that they thought they were toying with her, and accidentally broke her back. But I just don't know. Or perhaps it was a fleeting mob mentality that took over, if only for a second.
What I do know is that my wife just recently cried herself to sleep, and there's a fresh grave around back with the heaviest log I could carry sitting on top. Also, the dogs will never be allowed access to the cats again. They've lost that chance forever.
When I get the time, I'm going to make a small headstone, I think. She deserves something. I think I'll write this:
Here lies a good cat.
We'd let them out of the fence for a few minutes while we were feeding them, as usual. It's a fairly large fence (3000 square feet or so) but we still like to let them run on occasion.
Moments later, my wife heard a commotion and found her laying prone on the ground, with a nasty cut on her side.
We rushed her to the emergency vet, but they had broken her back, so she had to be put down. We buried her in the corner, beneath a hickory tree. The dirt was hard with the lack of rain, but it was no match for my desire to give her a burial.
The thing is, I never saw this coming. It's not so much the actual death (anyone who has pets, especially as many as we do, learns to deal with this part of it) but instead how she died that disturbs me.
The dogs that killed her are the same dogs that spent years with her, sitting side by side in the same house. They knew her, and had never made a move to harm her, or any cat we own. I don't know what triggered them.
They're just mutts, as well- strays we picked up off the road- not Pit Bulls or Rottweilers or any other breed that (although this is certainly debatable) might be bent towards aggression. It just doesn't make sense.
My only theory is that they thought they were toying with her, and accidentally broke her back. But I just don't know. Or perhaps it was a fleeting mob mentality that took over, if only for a second.
What I do know is that my wife just recently cried herself to sleep, and there's a fresh grave around back with the heaviest log I could carry sitting on top. Also, the dogs will never be allowed access to the cats again. They've lost that chance forever.
When I get the time, I'm going to make a small headstone, I think. She deserves something. I think I'll write this:
Here lies a good cat.
posted by Yorick at 8:37 PM
1 Comments:
Oh, how pitiful! That's heartbreaking, and words won't convey how sad that makes me feel for you and your wife. If you've ever read Where the Red Fern Grows, you know what I mean.
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