25 April 2007

Nine Lives (...a cat's tale.)


Oscar has been having issues. Pretty much since the day I first brought him home 12 years ago (nearly 12 years to the day), the cat has had some kind of issue. He's always been a fighter... literally, I'd open the door to let him outside, he'd make a bee-line for the first cat he saw, pick a fight, and get his ass kicked. I have spent literally thousands of dollars on the vet keeping this animal alive. His 'file' with her is pages and pages long, we giggled about it the last time I saw her.

Today, I spent the last $50 I will ever spend on him. He is not coming home. He has gone back to the place where I picked him up a lifetime ago, the pound. The official documents say that he is to be euthanized because of "illness." And, indeed it is true, he had skin cancer on his nose, among other more minor issues. But, because he was ill, and was not adoptable, the nice girl at the desk told me that he would be 'put down today, so he doesn't suffer in a cage.'

great. thanks. I feel so much better with that knowledge.

I realize that this was the best thing for the cat, for me, for the neighborhood cats who were tired of regularly having to kick his ass.... but it was still very difficult.

I was always the kid who brought home stray pets. I was the kid who felt guilty getting rid of stuffed animals, because I just knew it hurt their feelings. I was the kid who would find a half-dead bird in the yard that some cat mauled, and would take it to my mom crying and begging her to take it to the vet. I was the kid that freaked out when the neighbor kid stomped on a snail.... "what did that snail ever do to you!?"

Now I'm trying to figure out a way to comfort that kid, because she's totally crushed to have been instrumental in the death of another living thing. A living thing I had cared for and nurtured back to health when he was practically dying, a living thing who's life I had saved time and time again... only to kill him now.

So, here is to the end of an era.
The Age of Oscar....
The meanest cat I've ever met,
The first pet I acquired post-marriage,
The cat who peed on Matt a week after I moved out.
I'm going to miss that stinkin' feline.


[Jill: he told me to bite you for him next time I see you, to say good-bye... then he told me to run, because you bite back.]

(photo to come when I get my desktop back)

6 comments:

Mum2Angus said...

LMAO...he peed on Matt for a week? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA....what a good cat!

I understand how you're feeling, I've been there myself. It's like putting a family member down (hmmmm...no no BAD TYRA BAD).

So is that how you got Matt? *snicker* Was he one of the strays? *snicker* Sorry I couldn't resist!

Have some wine and cheesecake and then some more wine and did I mention some wine?

Giddy. said...

no, actually, he only peed on Matt once...about a week after I left. Had he done it for a week, I totally would have paid for the surgery. *snicker*

Yes, wine. I'm drinking it now.

Yes, stray. He was so pitiful, and I was 17... I didn't know any better. No More Pets. For a VERY long time. *giggle*

Kristen McD said...

I'm sorry. :(

CamiKaos said...

sorry babe

Mum2Angus said...

No pets, just heavy petting. mehehehehehehe

maria said...

I'm sorry about Oscar, and I can understand you not wanting to have pets anytime soon... heavy petting sounds like a very naughty, but enjoyable suggestion... ha ha ha!