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Veni, Vidi, Vici

I think that God in creating Man somewhat overestimated his ability.
-- Oscar Wilde

Eulogy to Bill the Cat

Bill was a rescue cat from Taos, New Mexico, where he was found by my sister as a starving kitten. She had nursed him back from malnutrition and numerous injuries and, of course, had him neutered. When my family and I went to visit her in the early spring of 1992, there was Bill in her office. He was a white faced orange tabby, much like dozens of other cats that we have all seen before. We had not planned to get a cat but he need a home and he was so personable that we decided to take him with us. So, into the pickup truck, where he sat on my shoulder or lap and meowed most of the way to Denver. He was with us every day since until last Monday, February 2, 2004. He slept with my stepson almost every night for years.

He was three or four years old when we moved to the neighborhood that we live in now. In a newer and somewhat upscale area there was no shortage of children (or other cats) to amuse him. In years to come, if I was in my front yard or garage, children would ask if Bill could come out to play. If I went to collect him from the street or a neighbors yard in the evening, people who had never spoken to me before would tell me how much they liked Bill. On the rare occasion that he didn’t come home, we knew he was hangin’ at someone else’s house, well fed and warm. Bill belonged to the neighborhood and the neighborhood belonged to Bill.

Not everyone loved Bill. For instance, another cat across the street had challenged Bill’s supremacy so he picked the perfect moment to make a statement. In front of a neighbor’s Sunday afternoon backyard family cookout, he proceeded to turn the neighbor’s offending cat every way but loose. Two days and a couple of angry phone calls later and I’m writing a check for $95.00 for vet bills to stitch the other cat back together.

Bill and I were sometimes in conflict. Bill usually won. Behind our backyard was a large undeveloped hilly field, which was home to a surprising amount of wildlife. Springtime brought a literal mouse and bunny feast for Bill and many other cats. Bill once jumped over the fence with a tiny bunny clamped in his mouth, held just by the scruff of its neck. The little rabbit was mostly unharmed so I took it from where Bill set it down and put it back out in the field.

I scolded him severely, which I’m sure Bill craftily translated into “Bill – blah, blah, blah, blah!”. I returned to my chores and left Bill on the deck with an uncharacteristically disgruntled look on his face. Two or three hours later I went out to light the grill and in the first patio chair, there it was! The bunny’s head (only), still complete with tiny bunny ears. He showed me in a completely weird kind of ‘cat godfather – “your bunny sleeps in my (burp) stomach”’ fashion how futile my rescue efforts were. After all, he was a cat.

Bill often sunned himself in various driveways or even sometimes in the middle of the street. He never even came close to being hit by anyone’s car. If he slipped his collar for a few days, it never seemed to be a big deal. Everyone knew where he lived and he always, always knew his way home. He never lost more than a little fur in countless catfights. Bill seemed truly invincible.

A year or two ago, Bill began to show signs of slowing down but lived life as he always had. He developed allergies of some sort for which our vet would give him shots about every six or eight weeks when he would begin to scratch his chin and left ear up. Then last June we took him to a different vet that was much closer to our house. She told us that his real problems stemmed from the fact that he had several bad teeth that need to be removed. So 2 days and $530.00 later I brought him home missing several teeth. A new coat of fur began growing in and his old coat began coming out in clumps, giving him a mangy appearance.

In July my project management job on a local toll way came to an end at the completion of the project. The local economy was severely down and I was only able to find part time consulting work for six months. When Bill’s allergies returned, he began scratching his nose, chin and ear up again. With money in short supply I chose to treat his wounds with ointments instead of getting him the allergy shots he needed.

Every time I would get his wounds almost cleared up, he would have another allergy flare-up. By January, when I had gone back to work full time and Bill’s ear was so torn up that he was leaving bloody spots on the bed and furniture. So, last Saturday I took ol’ Billy Bob to his regular vet and got his allergy shot and some liquid antibiotic to be given to him orally (Boy, was that part fun).

The past Monday evening I was upstairs packing some musical equipment to load into my truck for my regular weekly rock jam session. I thought I heard the doorbell but with the stereo on, I wasn’t sure. I heard the second ring but by the time I got down to the door, I only saw two young people walking into a house across and down the street. I was running late so I packed my truck without going to see if they were the ones who rang my bell. Bill wasn’t there when I came home.

By ten P.M. the next evening, Bill still hadn’t come home and I was pretty sure something was wrong. Snow had moved in and I prayed that he had just holed up with a neighbor as he had done many times before. I checked and called out the front and back door a dozen times before giving up slightly after 2 A.M. I took off work early the next day to search after making several phone calls and website visits to local animal shelters. The first house I went to was the one I mentioned earlier, across and down the street.

The lady who lives there told me that Bill was taken to an animal shelter by her daughter who had come to visit on Monday afternoon. The young woman had been one of the children who was one Bill’s biggest fans a few years earlier. She was apparently concerned by his appearance as he had opened up his ear wound again and she later told me that he was having trouble walking or standing. By then the shelter was closed so we rushed some 20 or 25 miles away to where she had taken him. I couldn’t see anything inside so I left a note on the door with my address and phone number.

I called the shelter the next morning before the posted opening time and talked with some one who checked the records and said they had a cat that was brought in Monday of Bill’s general description in their recovery area. Thrilled by the prospect that my little buddy was OK, I again rushed to the shelter. I was allowed to look in the recovery area and I just knew when I walked back there that I heard his special yowl. My heart leapt at the sound. Alas, three cats but no Bill. I was allowed in the general cat holding area a few minutes later but still no Bill. When I explained that I was sure that he had been brought there, one lady at the reception area asked his name.

When I replied ‘Bill’, I knew the answer was the one I dreaded from the look on her face. She said “I’m afraid we euthanized him Monday evening”. Through a pathetic effort to hold back the tears, I was able to ask why that was necessary. They could only say that “he was in pretty bad shape and he had no I.D. of any kind”. I left my cell phone number and asked that the person in charge that evening give me a call. I sat in the parking lot for at least 10 minutes before I could stop crying long enough to start my truck.

The supervising vet called later and explained that she made the decision based on his appearance and that the cat was undernourished and dehydrated and the he bore no I.D. I explained that his weight loss might have been from the loss of his teeth and he didn’t feel like eating as much as once did. I asked when they put him down and was told at 6:00 P.M., about an hour after he was brought in. She apologized profusely and was probably kinder to me than I was to her because she could see I was in pain from my loss.

I still cannot believe how much this hurts days after the bad news. As I write this, I still can’t stop the tears. Most people that know me would probably tell you that, even in my fifties, I am still a pretty macho guy. However, I will grieve this incident for a long time. Not just over the loss of a very special family member and friend, but why and how it happened.
In order to be able to put this whole thing down and begin healing, I needed to write this letter. I hope to not only to explain everything to all parties involved but in hope of others learning from this sad story. The first to blame was myself because I neglected my friend. He should never been allowed to roam without identification, but as I said, it had never been a problem when he would slip his collar before. I should have also electronically tagged him, which I knew was available but “never got around to it”.

His appearance and his wounds were also from my neglect. It appears that he scratched his ear until he nicked an artery and had was literally bleeding to death when he was found. I should have found a way to get his shots instead of trying my way. I didn’t pay enough attention to him and sometime even rejected him because “I was just too busy” to spend more time on his health problems. To a large degree, I turned my back on my friend when he needed me. I took him for granted because I still thought of him as ‘invincible’. Shame on me.

Next, mostly because she didn’t know better, the Good Samaritan effectively signed his death warrant when she took him to a public animal shelter without an I.D. I’m still sorting out the details but was told that she said he was just a cat that had always been allowed to roam the neighborhood. I was also told that instead of leaving the address where he belonged, she left her address over twenty miles away in Aurora, Colorado.

The supervisor told me that, had they known that the cat belonged in municipality of Centennial, Colorado he would have been transferred there. That would have bought him some time rather than leaving him doomed to be evaluated as expendable in a larger overburdened animal shelter. I also can’t imagine why, after all her other efforts, the young woman who took him couldn’t leave me a written note when I was unable to answer the door in time. If someone is willing to get involved with someone else’s animal, they should stay involved until they are sure that the animal is given a chance to recover. A municipal shelter was the last place she should have taken Bill.

Lastly, supervisors of shelters like this have a huge job and often have to determine life or death based on finances. They also have to become somewhat callous about animals that appear to have a limited chance of recovery. But that callousness cheated my family and me of any chance to heal our sick friend. I was informed that Bill appeared so dehydrated that he would have probably have needed to be intravenously fed and watched over. It was late in the day and budgeting probably excluded paying someone to stay overtime to take care of the little guy.

So he was routinely euthanized and cremated. Bill died confused, with no one around that he knew or loved, and that is mostly what breaks my heart. It is my hope that changes can be made at shelters so that all animals are deemed worth the effort to save or at least be given some time while their families search for them. As you can tell, Bill wasn’t just a cat and when a beloved animal is lost mostly because of circumstances, it leaves a void that is absolutely inexplicable. Goodbye Billy Bob – we will never, ever forget you.

P.S. I have made appointments for my two Samoyeds and my other cat to have microchips implanted this weekend. It wasn’t even expensive – around $30 per critter – pretty cheap to save your buddies from the kind of fate I described above. I’d give anything to have Bill back. Have your guys micro chipped now – don’t put it off.

http://www.petpeoplesplace.com/Stories/list/036/01.htm

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