Yesterday was a pretty December day, crisp but warm enough that I could take off my jacket to shoot. Which was just what Murphy's Law and I did. I in particular wanted to get out and try my new Beretta 92S, which I picked up Friday evening. Then lunch and me home to pick up the mess I made in the TV room when I wrapped and packed up the out-of-state Christmas presents so I could get them in the mail. And to clean guns in front of Netflix.
All was well until I stepped out on the porch to feed the outside cats and saw one of them, Greybie, go into a seizure. I knew immediately what was happening - Blu had them later in life.
Greybie is just one of many examples of why I often dislike humans - an abandoned sweetheart of a cat that just wants a lap to sleep in, full of happy purrs for ear scratches. When he first showed up a few months ago he alternated houses and one neighbor accidentally trapped him while trying to trap a feral, so she just took him and had him fixed while she had him. After that he took up residence on my porch, happy for my company when I sat with my coffee in the morning when the weather allowed.
Unfortunately, because Blackberry has so many problems and is so elderly, I don't feel I can bring any more cats in the house right now. I don't fell I can add that stress to her life.
I can't give the outdoor cats the same care the indoor ones get, but if I see something wrong I take them in. About a month ago I realized that Greybie's face had swollen a lot. So I shoved him in a carrier and took him to the emergency vet, to be told that he had an oral cancer. There is a fairly new medication on the market that is injected directly into a tumor, and often causes a tumor to attack itself and basically rot itself away. It's a Hail Mary treatment, but we tried it. I took him back for the second injection as well as antibiotics for his gums, and he seemed to be doing well. The swelling had gone out of his face and he had a good appetite. Until the last couple days - I noticed he wasn't eating all his food. And then the seizure. Which pretty much said that the tumor had spread to his brain. While an x-ray was useless because it wouldn't have been able to see through the skull, there were other signs, and the vet agreed that I was probably right. So I held him and cuddled him and apologized for the assholes who didn't appreciate him, who didn't let him be their loving lap cat but turned him out instead, as he purred and then slipped away.
You will take up a collection for me, right? The one I'm going to need for bail if I ever catch someone dumping an animal up here. Because I've had to have three put to sleep because of irresponsible idiots, and I'm getting tired of bearing both the financial and emotional burden of people that I like way less than I like cats and dogs.