Throughout March, Jinx has been re-asserting himself in the house, while Scooter was spending more and more time outdoors, coming in to eat on occasion, but mostly being happy hanging around outside.
Friday, I started tallying up the days since I'd seen him. Since I'm not the only one letting him in and out of the house, it wasn't unusual for me to not to see him for two or three days at a time, but after talking to everyone else in the house, we realized that we hadn't seen him since Monday or Tuesday last week. We've had cold nights and bad weather with lots of snow for the past week, so I figured that he'd just holed up somewhere in the neighborhood.
About an hour ago, while I was waiting for the vet to come and give Ike his adequan shot, I was clearing some snow away from the shed, the one Scooter liked to hide and play under. In one of those "I don't even know why I did it!" moments, I looked back under the shed, and saw his face and leg laying there. It took me a few seconds to register what I was seeing, because even though it was obviously Scooter, and he was obviously dead, I didn't want to register what it was I was seeing. Once I did, I just watched to see if he would move.
But he didn't.
When the vet arrived with her daughter, they were kind enough to pull him out so I wouldn't have to; it's been years since I've had to deal with a dead pet. They bagged him up and took him away; luckily, it's been below freezing all week until today, so there hadn't been any decomposition.
She just called; she feels he was hit by a car and died of internal injuries.
He was a good kitty; funny and playful. The last time I saw him, he let me give him a nice 10-minute long cuddle, before remembering he didn't like that sort of thing and demanding to be put down. I only had him for eight months, but I bet it was the best eight months of his life.
Gods, I really am sorry to hear this. I had a similar experience in my teens when our tabby Arthur disappeared - eventually I found him under a neighbour's tree. Dreadful mix of grief and horror. Many, many hugs.
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Friday, I started tallying up the days since I'd seen him. Since I'm not the only one letting him in and out of the house, it wasn't unusual for me to not to see him for two or three days at a time, but after talking to everyone else in the house, we realized that we hadn't seen him since Monday or Tuesday last week. We've had cold nights and bad weather with lots of snow for the past week, so I figured that he'd just holed up somewhere in the neighborhood.
About an hour ago, while I was waiting for the vet to come and give Ike his adequan shot, I was clearing some snow away from the shed, the one Scooter liked to hide and play under. In one of those "I don't even know why I did it!" moments, I looked back under the shed, and saw his face and leg laying there. It took me a few seconds to register what I was seeing, because even though it was obviously Scooter, and he was obviously dead, I didn't want to register what it was I was seeing. Once I did, I just watched to see if he would move.
But he didn't.
When the vet arrived with her daughter, they were kind enough to pull him out so I wouldn't have to; it's been years since I've had to deal with a dead pet. They bagged him up and took him away; luckily, it's been below freezing all week until today, so there hadn't been any decomposition.
She just called; she feels he was hit by a car and died of internal injuries.
He was a good kitty; funny and playful. The last time I saw him, he let me give him a nice 10-minute long cuddle, before remembering he didn't like that sort of thing and demanding to be put down. I only had him for eight months, but I bet it was the best eight months of his life.
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HUG
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It seems to be a kitty massacre on my Flist these days...
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