THERE MUST BE 50 WAYS TO LEAVE YOUR PET!

By

KiKi

At some time every new pet owner eagerly takes pictures of his or her new pet.  For those albums that will never be filled with pictures by owners who give up their pets or have them needlessly killed, let's add a final mental picture.

Picture the face filled with eyes of sadness that followed you to your car.  Can you almost hear the soulful howling as we sought to comfort your dog while you hastily drove away?  You said you just didn't have the same bond for this eight-year-old dog as you do for your new puppy.

Imagine that once fuzzy, playful kitten that could delight you for hours now lying and shaking in the bottom of a steel cage.  The cold metal bars have now replaced the bed and arms of a once loving owner.

Perhaps you can conjure up a picture of your cat or dog and imagine the looks of puzzlement, concern and fear that follow as his or her eyes study the veterinarian and technicians who were once welcoming with friendly faces.  Now they prepare your pet for death.  You left your once beloved pet at the front desk with strict instructions and to die alone.

You said that this pet filled a void for your childless years but that now you have a real baby and can't take care of both of them.

And a picture you will surely never forget is the pet you dropped off at the night box or at the local shelter.  A video could have better captured the amazement on your pet's face as he or she joined the other abandoned pets left at the shelter to unknown fates.  No picture or thought could ever capture his or her fear. 

You told us you needed to "get rid of" your pet immediately.  You didn't have time for the paperwork or the adoption process.  The cat was urinating outside the litter box, the puppy tore up your new shoes, or the dog just got too big!  But you are sure they won't kill your pet at the shelter because he or she is so cute!

Are there 50 ways to leave your pet?  No, there are hundreds of excuses and rationalizations that accompany them.  Those last haunting images of frightened faces, shaking bodies, and mouths and lungs gasping for their last breaths won't stay etched in the minds of the owners who just gave them up but rather in the thoughts and memories of the people who rescue, foster or are forced to kill them.

Why do so many pet owners place such little value on the future welfare of their once beloved pets?  The lack of compassion and the treating of pets as disposable and replaceable items is not limited to a particular class, income level, religious affiliation or degree of education.  Changing attitudes and philosophies regarding animals as property in our society is imperative!  There are viable solutions other than euthanasia in the handling of a pet's behavioral or medical problems or one's own lifestyle changes.

Don't look for 50 ways to leave your pets, for there are a million reasons to keep them.  A wealth of knowledge is available through your veterinarians, animal behaviorists, self-help literature, and obedience classes.  Don't force others to remember the sad faces you choose to forget.

And lastly, for all those pets who have been needlessly killed . . . if your souls do, indeed, fill our heavenly skies, perhaps when it rains it really does pour cats and dogs!

Mama Cat

By

KiKi

Several years ago I was struck by an illness that halted my life.  I lost a wonderful job and a very active social life.

To cope with the unexpected and unwelcome isolation, I would sit outside my apartment soaking in the sun and fresh air.  I found solitude in the day, listening to the sounds of nature from the empty field I faced and comfort in the evening as I eagerly exchanged nods, waves and small talk with my neighbors.

One afternoon as I sat quietly reading, I felt a presence.  I looked up and over in the empty field tucked between the lush overgrowth were a pair of yellow piercing eyes staring back into mine.  I slowly rose and as I approached the fence that separated us, I saw that the eyes belonged to a very small black cat.  As I bent down to softly talk to her, she let out a high-pitched growl.  I was startled but not half as much as she, as she tore through snarled weeds and wild flowers to flee from me.  Her speed amazed me, particularly because I noted that her entire front leg was missing.

As I began my inquiry about "Mama Cat" from long-time residents, the story of the "three-legged Mama" began to unravel.  It seemed that some ten years prior an irresponsible pet owner, no longer able to keep Mama, literally tossed her into the empty but overgrown field that faced our apartments.  It was in this field that "Mama" lived, conceiving and giving birth to multiple litters from spring to fall year after year, hence the name, "Mama Cat."

Mama lived on the generosity of the neighbors who would set out a bowl of milk or food.  But no one wanted to claim her, touch her, or bear the expense of having her spayed.  When bundle after bundle of kittens was discovered, those that could be caught were snatched up.  Those less fortunate were either killed by motorists or small wild animals or became an ever growing group of a feral colony consisting of left over generations of abandoned pets.  And when Mama was hit by a car, there was no veterinarian administering medical care and no loving arms to comfort and hold her.  A permanent dent in the side of her head was a sad reminder.  No one, however, could explain how she had lost her front leg.

While I can only imagine the unwitnessed perils that Mama suffered through, I know she lived and survived in sub-zero temperatures and smoldering heat.  When the overgrowth no longer provided adequate protection, she would seek refuge in sewers and underground electrical units, dragging her babies one by one to safety.  The babies that survived would emerge into sunlight with burnt ears and missing tails.  My need to befriend this amazing soul became even more amplified.  So began my courtship of Mama Cat.

To say that Mama was a wild cat would be an understatement.  Though neighbors set food out, I was warned early on not to touch her.  No one did.  In fact, Mama had not experienced a loving stroke since she was a small kitten.  A once domesticated cat, she was now a wild animal who had survived unbelievable odds.

Food was scarce for Mama, so I began our courtship by bringing out dishes of nutritious food to her several times a day.  I would sit and talk to her at a safe distance as she eagerly gobbled up every morsel.  As our distance became shorter, I got up the nerve to touch her.  The first time, I felt as if we were in a Clint Eastwood movie, as she swiftly turned to me as if to say, "Make my day."  But over the months she did let me touch her and over more months, I actually began to pet her.  Then one day something amazing happened.  As if reading my thoughts, Mama crawled cautiously into my lap.  We sat like that for 45 minutes, frozen and unable to move.  I could swear we shared a memory together of a time long gone when someone had once held her.  It would be a long time before she would seek my lap again.

When winter came, I filled a house with straw for her and every night I would check in to see those yellow eyes staring back at me.  Sometimes I would awaken out of a deep sleep and look out my bedroom window and see her standing in the middle of the road looking back up at me.  We were unbelievably connected.

When winter melted into spring, I was naively shocked and horrified.  Despite my efforts to dissuade her ardent admirers, Mama was once again pregnant.  The years of countless births had taken their toll on Mama, and when I saw her sitting weakly in her own feces, I knew I had to bring her in.  This time she did not struggle.

For the next several months I hand fed Mama as she gave birth to four beautiful babies.  Softly she would coo with approval as I'd caress and nurse her bundles of fur.  A bond was formed with my "friend" that was never to be broken.  Since Mama had witnessed the deaths and theft of so many of her babies, I decided to keep two.  Sadly, they both died within three years of their birth as the result of genetic complications.

For the next five years Mama and I were inseparable.  No one could believe that this once wild cat now shared my bed and my arms. 

On July 5, 1997, Mama Cat passed away.  All of my sobbing and love could not make her stay.  She was tired and old.  By all accounts she was at least 16.  I dearly miss my old friend and I shall never forget the tremendous spirit that lay within her tiny body.  A stronger woman I have never known.   

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