I can still remember waking up in the middle of the night to what sounded like a terrible catfight. Perhaps it was the neighbor's cat or the stray they had been feeding. I was happy to know that my animals were safe and sound inside. I quickly forgot about it and went back to sleep.
The next morning, there he was at my door. He was obviously in pain and looking for somebody to help him. The wound looked as if something had gotten him by his neck and had a good bite. Without thinking, I took him in, called my veterinarian who kindly agreed to see us right away. I packed him and my newborn baby into the car and we were on our way.
He was a kind animal and had been around for a few months now. He was a typical "Tom", but he was friendly and gentle with people. I had come to enjoy his visits to my yard, but always finished them by making sure I washed my hands well, as he was rough around the edges and always covered in dirt.
He seemed too skinny for the big frame he had and it was apparent he did not have a permanent home. I suspected that he would be the neighbors' cat soon, as they had been leaving food out for him for sometime.
I thought that I would get this cat the medical attention he needed and that would be the end of it. After all, I already had two cats, a newborn baby and a very small house. The inn was full and I was on my way to the vet's with a wounded stray cat. I would get him fixed up and send him on his merry way. It seemed like a perfect plan and the right thing to do.
"The good news is, I can definitely fix the wound. The bad news is, we don't know what bit him and we don't know if he has been vaccinated for rabies. We either put him down or quarantine him for six months."
I heard the doctor's words, but at first they didn't register. After careful contemplation I came up with my brilliant plan. I would quarantine the cat for six months and find him a nice home after that.
"Ok", I said. "I'll take him in for six months, but I am not keeping him."
The next morning, there he was at my door. He was obviously in pain and looking for somebody to help him. The wound looked as if something had gotten him by his neck and had a good bite. Without thinking, I took him in, called my veterinarian who kindly agreed to see us right away. I packed him and my newborn baby into the car and we were on our way.
He was a kind animal and had been around for a few months now. He was a typical "Tom", but he was friendly and gentle with people. I had come to enjoy his visits to my yard, but always finished them by making sure I washed my hands well, as he was rough around the edges and always covered in dirt.
He seemed too skinny for the big frame he had and it was apparent he did not have a permanent home. I suspected that he would be the neighbors' cat soon, as they had been leaving food out for him for sometime.
I thought that I would get this cat the medical attention he needed and that would be the end of it. After all, I already had two cats, a newborn baby and a very small house. The inn was full and I was on my way to the vet's with a wounded stray cat. I would get him fixed up and send him on his merry way. It seemed like a perfect plan and the right thing to do.
"The good news is, I can definitely fix the wound. The bad news is, we don't know what bit him and we don't know if he has been vaccinated for rabies. We either put him down or quarantine him for six months."
I heard the doctor's words, but at first they didn't register. After careful contemplation I came up with my brilliant plan. I would quarantine the cat for six months and find him a nice home after that.
"Ok", I said. "I'll take him in for six months, but I am not keeping him."
Comments
Post a Comment