Yesterday started out with a sketch in my head of what needed to be done. First their was the usual: coffee in the morning while checking email, head to my mother's house to prune her hedges and plant her plant boxes, fuzziness in between to do what I felt needed to be done, and finally meet a friend and trail ride our horses late in the day.
The yard work and planting took me a few hours. I then drove to my Dad's grave site to plant some plants there, weed and beautify the area. I had just enough time to get home, let the dogs out for some play time, give the horses more hay, eat something, get changed, and meet my friend for that trail ride.
That's when hell in a handbasket came to visit.
My lovely android phone has been in a time warp lately. Text messages seem to get stuck in cyberspace, then, purely on whim, arrive in my phone, sometimes many hours, sometimes a day later. I heard the familiar ping of the text messages as I was finishing up at the cemetery, so I checked it. It was almost a day old text letting me know about my horse which is boarded. He seemed to have acquired some type of bug bite which was swollen under his neck, and his back right leg was red. The boarding facility is very good about getting in touch with you immediately. I wish my phone was as good.
Quickly, I recalculated the day. I could run down to the boarding facility and check this horse before I did all the other stuff. The trail ride was going to occur at a different facility, where my other horse is at the moment getting some training and solving some problems which have manifested. He is there for two weeks.
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| I think our roads need to be added to the worst commutes in America list. |
On the road from my house to the barn, I realized a cat had been hit by a car and was laying near the berm, a bit onto the road. It was an orange tabby. I felt bad. I always feel bad for cats that have been hit. There are alot of farms in our area who allow cats to breed. The cats are ultimately feral, intact (unspayed or neutered) and all over the roads. I deliberately drive very slowly along these roads because many times these cats will run just in front of my car.
I continued on to the barn, finding, alas, that even this back road was encumbered by a road crew, down to one lane and trying to rectify a telephone pole which, beyond anyone's imagination as to how, was split in half, hanging precariously between the wires and the street and the roof of someone's home. I am still wondering about that.
Once at the barn, I went out to the field to examine horse #1. The bite was a good sized one, from what I do not know, but the leg was not really all that red anymore. I had used a medication on what seemed to be a bit of leg fungus (common to horses) on the cannon bone and either the medication caused the red reaction, or I needed to apply sunblock to the skin on this leg after removing the fungal material. Horse #1 was as happy as a clam with no ill effects, so I headed back home.
I don't know why, but I decided to go back home the way I just came, even though it meant going through road crew hell and past the hit kitty again (something I don't usually like to see for a second time). As I approached where the hit cat was located, something made me stop my vehicle in the road. I decided to move the cat's body to the bushes and off the road, so it wouldn't be run over again. I had a pair of heavy duty gloves in the car from gardening, so I went to grab them. I started walking toward the cat, and that's when the cat lifted its head.
Do you see what I mean about a day?
My heart was in my throat. This was truly a dilemma. The cat was obviously injured very badly. I'm no vet, but my estimation was that life #9 was used up here. It was also feral and was now using whatever energy it had left to hiss at me and try to get away. Unfortunately, it could not move its back end. What to do?
I had a towel in my car. I got it. I laid the towel over the cat's head and very carefully picked it up. I then put it on the mat on the floor of my car in the back seat area. I had to drive home to let my dogs out and give the horses hay. I wasn't very far from home. Time was now dwindling down. I hadn't eaten anything all day, and I needed to get changed. Somehow, I now had to try to figure out what to do about the cat. I could not have left it there. I knew it couldn't be saved.
After pulling in my driveway, I acted like I was on a game show of mad dash. I literally RAN to let the dogs out, RAN to the back fields to give the horses hay, RAN into the house, RAN upstairs and changed clothes, RAN downstairs and grabbed a highly scrumptious meal--mango peach applesauce and a mueslix bar--grabbed a drink for the road, left the dogs outside (my husband had phoned that he would be home in 10 minutes, so they would be fine for now), and went to my car.
The first thing I did was peer in the window at the towel where I had left the cat. To my utter shock, the cat was not on the towel. Now I had a feral, very hurt cat in my car.....SOMEWHERE! I slowly opened the door (think horror movie waiting-for-the-thing-to-jump-out mode). I spotted a striped orange tail on the other side of the back seat area, sticking out from under the seat. Okay. Fine. At least I knew the cat was still in the back.
I jumped in the car, grabbed my cell and started driving. My vet's office is on speed dial. I called them first. This was later in the afternoon. My vet was not in, the technicians were not there, and there was no one who could euthanize a cat. There is an emergency clinic. But I wasn't sure I wanted to go there. I decided I would take the cat to the Humane Society. I knew that they usually had a euthanasia technician on site, and perhaps they would help me.
I need to remind you that this entire time I was very stressed over the situation. I was working on pure adrenaline to keep me from not breaking down, stopping my car and sobbing in the middle of the road.
I arrived at the Humane Society location and found two people sitting behind the desk. I described the situation. Luckily, there was help. Two women accompanied me out to the car. They devised a strategy to carefully open the door and extract the cat. I offered my gloves but they had their own.
Slowly opening the car door, the technician didn't see any movement. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the kitty had died. She removed him and placed him on a towel lovingly and examined him. Confirmed he was intact, and very badly injured. He would not have survived. It did not make me feel any better.
They thanked me for caring enough to stop and pick the cat up.
Sometimes I hate who I am. I hate the fact that I am compelled to stop on the road and move dead animals. I wonder about the kind of person who could hit a cat and not stop. How long had that kitty been on the road suffering, scared? I was extremely upset at that point. I no longer needed the adrenaline. This was the worst "down" of the day. That feeling of utter helplessness, where you know you can't touch something and bring it back to life.
I'm still sad today. I will probably be sad for the rest of the weekend when I think about this, or for that matter, whenever I think about this. Because I know I'm going to see more of this on the road. And I know I'm going to have to stop.....again.
Aaaarrrrooooo
