Some decisions should never be easy to make. I say this because I've experienced some of these decisions. What some may take lightly, I do not. Never have, never will. For some, the following story will be passed over without so much as a thought. No emotion, no pain, no sorrow.
My story started a few weeks ago, although I didn't really know it at the time. I live in a neighborhood that has quite a few feral cats. When one decided to make its home in my carport, I assumed it was just "one of those cats." Little did I know that this little cat would impact me.
Last night, I pulled up to the house and the cat was in the carport eating out of our cat's bowls. As I got closer, I noticed he had two open wounds on his chest, as well as scraggly fur that was thinning and matted. Now, most people would just call animal control and leave it to them. No worries, right? Yeah. That's not me. For those of you who know me, ignoring the suffering of something, whether it's an animal or a person, isn't who I am, and I'm proud of that. That being said, I promptly walked inside, got some cat food and a bowl of milk, and brought it back outside. Being sure not to get too close, I slowly set down the bowls and stepped back. The cat looked at me for a second and then completely chowed down. I went in and got Brian and made him come evaluate the situation. He agreed that a trip to the vet and then hopefully the humane society was definitely in order. Considering it was 8 p.m., the vet was going to have to wait until tomorrow.
We spent the rest of the night checking on him. When I woke up this morning, he was no where to be found. I went about my morning as usual - taking Chase to the groomer, going to the gym, and packing to go home. When I came back from the gym, the kitty was right where he was last night. Sitting in the folding tailgate chair in the carport waiting for more food. Of course.
I filled up the food bowl and tried to convince kitty to get into the cat carrier. Considering he's a stray, it didn't take much convincing - I carefully picked him up and scooted him in the carrier. After a few sneezes, he settled right in. I carefully put the carrier in the car and drove the 5 miles to the vet, deciding that I would name him Gibbs. I was promptly escorted into the room. The nurse was super sweet as she coaxed him out of the carrier and onto the table. She took him back to weigh him, and told me that the vet would be in shortly.
When the vet came in, her face wasn't exactly encouraging. As she examined Gibbs, her expression didn't improve. When she was done, she began to tell me what she observed. He had ulcers in his mouth and nasal passage, his eyes were oozing, his fur was thinning and falling out in clumps, and it was probable that his kidneys and liver were failing. I sat quietly listening to the grim prognosis while Gibbs sat and purred quietly and contently. I knew what was coming - I was dreading having to ask. The vet knew what I was thinking, and quietly said what I was fearing - It was probably best to put Gibbs down. Treating him would cost hundreds (probably $400) of dollars and it would only be a temporary fix. Gibbs was sick, and there really wasn't anything that I could do to make him better.
I couldn't imagine making the decision on whether or not to put Gibbs down. I'd never faced having to make any decision like this, but here it was. The tears started as soon as the vet started talking - I knew what she was going to say...It was one of the hardest things I have had to hear. The vet and nurse gave me a few minutes to spend with Gibbs and think it over. The nurse came back in a few minutes later and presented me with two options - putting Gibbs down, or running more tests to see exactly how severe everything was. I asked the nurse and the vet what they would do...they told me that even thought they couldn't really make the decision for me...I interrupted her and said that even though they couldn't choose for me, I wanted to know what they would do if they were in my place. After a few minutes of discussing, we made the extremely difficult decision to put Gibbs down.
I chose to be in the room with him while they gave him the injections. They sedated him and then gave him the injection. I couldn't stop crying and rubbing his head, repeating how sorry I was. The hardest part was knowing that he didn't do anything wrong. After he had passed, I made the decision to take him home with me and bury him in our backyard, just like he was a family pet...just like he had always belonged with us. If I couldn't help him any further in life, I could ensure that he was treated with respect and love in his death.
I know that this story is depressing - and it's meant to be. These decisions should never be easy. They should take thought, and should not be made with haste. I will end this blog posting with this thought:
So many people see situations as, "One decision won't change the world." While this is true, it's the heart of the matter - doing the right thing. When faced with a decision, do the right thing. Take up a cause that someone else has ignored. Be a voice for someone who can't be their own voice. Advocate for what you believe is right, no matter if it's the popular decision or not.
