Let me first say that to me, pets aren't just animals, they are friends and family. They latch on to your heart and leave permanent marks there. Well, Remember awhile back when I told you about the kitten that showed up and that we named "Kat." Well, I have never been a "cat" person - I have always found them sneaky and mischievous and just not a real pet. But, I grew to love Kat. She was such an awesome kitten from day one. The first day I met her, I was walking home from the neighbors (aka, our grandparents), and she followed me all the way home - to get the mail, past the greenhouse, right to the doorstep. 10 feet behind me the whole way, an adorable little blonde kitten. The next day, she was still around. I took a cardboard box, laid a blanket in it, but a water-bowl near there, and picked up some cat food. She stuck around, for days. She took to sleeping on our porch. I loved it. I would get home, and little Kat would be lying on our doorstep, ready to greet me. She even learned her name - I would call her from the pergola and she would come running over, and I would pet her belly, and she would purr and purr. She was the sweetest cat. She is the sweetest cat. That is what makes this post very difficult to write. Luke and I both loved her - she would come over to the greenhouse, or wherever you were, and she would plop on her belly and just want some petting. She even held her own with Toby - scaring him away in the beginning. But then, one day, Toby and Kat laid about 1 foot apart, just looking at each other, content, as if they both knew that this was home for each other.
Kat had a bad leg in the beginning, but it seemed to be getting better. Yesterday, I woke up and walked outside to feed Kat. She normally always came right up to me, let me pet her, and then she would eat right away. Sometimes, she would even try to sneak in the house. Yesterday, something was different. Kat was barely breathing, and she wouldn't get up. She had a couple flies on her leg, and she just didn't look well. I started crying right away, and called Luke out. Luke didn't think she looked good either, but didn't want to give up on her. We gave her fresh water and petted her, but her purr was different, it was sad and painful. I knew then, she probably wasn't going to make it. But then the moral dilemma, do you let it happen naturally, or do you stop her pain? Luke and I thought it might just be the heat, so we moved her more in the shade, and just let her be. She never moved to the porch, she didn't move much at all. She made it through the night, and when I checked on her before I went to bed, she was grooming herself. I got so excited - I thought that meant she was getting better.
This morning, Kat was back to looking like she did yesterday. I have a hard time looking at her because I know she is hurting, but I can't bring myself to be the one to end her pain, and I just can't ask Luke to do it either. There is this hopeful part of me that keeps saying it is just the heat, that she will be back on the porch, purring in the morning. But, I'm lying to myself. Her leg is much worse, I think it is infected. And it is wrong for her to suffer for more days. Her breathing is fast and shallow, and when I look at her, I cry. It is a true moral dilemma with pets....keeping them alive because you are hopeful, or selfish? Am I keeping her here for me, so that I can see her on the porch or hunting in the landscaping? Deep down, I know it isn't fair anymore - she is barely moving, barely breathing. My grandma, aunts, and mom, all veteran farm girls, all said that when it is an outdoor cat, you can't treat it like a pet - they lead a different life and you have to adjust to seeing them come and go. But to me, Kat was the best cat I've ever met, and it is so hard to say good-bye. I will miss my new pet dearly, and the porch will look barren for days to come. As I wipe my eyes and finish this post, I am still hopeful that Kat will make a rapid recovery, and I will see her hunting bugs in the flowers in the morning, but deep down, I know it isn't true. She was a good cat. Good-bye Kat - I have loved you.
Kat had a bad leg in the beginning, but it seemed to be getting better. Yesterday, I woke up and walked outside to feed Kat. She normally always came right up to me, let me pet her, and then she would eat right away. Sometimes, she would even try to sneak in the house. Yesterday, something was different. Kat was barely breathing, and she wouldn't get up. She had a couple flies on her leg, and she just didn't look well. I started crying right away, and called Luke out. Luke didn't think she looked good either, but didn't want to give up on her. We gave her fresh water and petted her, but her purr was different, it was sad and painful. I knew then, she probably wasn't going to make it. But then the moral dilemma, do you let it happen naturally, or do you stop her pain? Luke and I thought it might just be the heat, so we moved her more in the shade, and just let her be. She never moved to the porch, she didn't move much at all. She made it through the night, and when I checked on her before I went to bed, she was grooming herself. I got so excited - I thought that meant she was getting better.
This morning, Kat was back to looking like she did yesterday. I have a hard time looking at her because I know she is hurting, but I can't bring myself to be the one to end her pain, and I just can't ask Luke to do it either. There is this hopeful part of me that keeps saying it is just the heat, that she will be back on the porch, purring in the morning. But, I'm lying to myself. Her leg is much worse, I think it is infected. And it is wrong for her to suffer for more days. Her breathing is fast and shallow, and when I look at her, I cry. It is a true moral dilemma with pets....keeping them alive because you are hopeful, or selfish? Am I keeping her here for me, so that I can see her on the porch or hunting in the landscaping? Deep down, I know it isn't fair anymore - she is barely moving, barely breathing. My grandma, aunts, and mom, all veteran farm girls, all said that when it is an outdoor cat, you can't treat it like a pet - they lead a different life and you have to adjust to seeing them come and go. But to me, Kat was the best cat I've ever met, and it is so hard to say good-bye. I will miss my new pet dearly, and the porch will look barren for days to come. As I wipe my eyes and finish this post, I am still hopeful that Kat will make a rapid recovery, and I will see her hunting bugs in the flowers in the morning, but deep down, I know it isn't true. She was a good cat. Good-bye Kat - I have loved you.
It is true, just an outdoor Kat who happened to wonder along and find a temporary resting place on a nice little farm. It is also true that you raise chickens under the intention of providing a better life for them while they fulfill their purpose. I say, don't turn your back on the cat just because it wondered along. Most farmers you talk to don't operate under the terms of love and compassion. Most farming is a business, sometimes, it is a lifestyle.
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