In Memorium

A stray cat died today, his life ended all too soon when he was hit by a car.  So many outdoor cats – strays, ferals, and pets who are allowed outside to explore on their own – die tragically on our roads every day.  The statistics are sobering.  A study published in January 2001 in the Canadian Veterinary Journal found that trauma was the most common cause of sudden and unexpected death in cats: 27 of 31 (87.09%) of these trauma cases were presumed to have been associated with a motor vehicle accident. (This type of trauma was characterized by the types of injuries with which the cats were presented to the Western College of Veterinary Medicine in Saskatoon.)  Not a single one of the cats who died from trauma was an indoor cat. The peer-reviewed article also noted that there may in fact be more cats that die of trauma, but if the “incident” (car accident, dog attack, etc.) was observed or if the animal had been treated by a veterinarian prior to succumbing to its injuries, it would not have been included in the study. In the United States, the number of cats killed on the roads every year is somewhere between two and five million. Some of these cats are pets, many are not.  We grieve for our pets, but who mourns for the strays & ferals?

The stray cat who died today had a name: Simba.  He was looked after by a caring family.  I don’t know why he remained homeless – perhaps he refused to come inside, too wary of the unknown, but willing to accept a a kind word and a free meal “al fresco” – and I have no idea how long the family had known him, but they gave him his name.  When they found his lifeless body, they brought him to their veterinarian and asked to have him cremated, and selected for his ashes a special urn. Friends wondered, why would someone go to such lengths for a stray cat?  I cannot answer for Simba’s caretakers, but they obviously felt that his life was important, and I am glad that he will have a home at last.  This final act of caring reaffirms to me that each animal’s life is precious, regardless of how it was lived, and every cat and dog deserves to be honored and remembered after they have gone.  For some, it may actually be the brightest moment in their brief lives.  Will they be aware of it?  In a physical sense, obviously not; however, if you believe as I do that animals have souls, and if you believe as I do that we will eventually be reunited with all the animals that have been a part of our lives and families, then we may also believe that in some way, these acts of caring will be sensed and appreciated.

Amongst the urns of my own beloved pets, there is a small, decorated tin containing the ashes of two cats without names.  One cat was a long-haired beauty that I watched slowly making her way up the street during a bitterly cold winter snowstorm, finally crawling under a car for refuge. After a great deal of cooing and coaxing, I managed to get her out from under the car and get her inside, where she spent the night in safety on a warm blanket, with food and water. The next day, my veterinarian examined this sweet kitty and tested her for Feline Leukemia and FIV. Sadly, she was positive for both viruses, and almost certainly already ill, so she was humanely euthanized and I took her cremains home a few days later.  The second cat was a handsome brown and grey tabby who visited our back porch quite often and seemed a friendly but shy fellow, whom my own cats wanted absolutely nothing to do with.  When the visitor started to look a little under the weather and I was finally able to catch him and get him to the vet, it turned out that this stray was also a victim of FIV.  Again, humane euthanasia and cremation, and a final home with me. Although I wasn’t able to truly rescue these cats, I am glad that I was able to save them from an extended, miserable illness, and that I was able to offer them some love, some comfort, and in the end, some dignity.  I can only hope I made a difference to them.

Rest in peace, sweet kitties.

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