Thursday, October 27, 2011
R.I.P GarfieldI don't know if any of you remember the post R.I.P. It was about my first cat's one year anniversary.. of her being dead. We got another cat about 5 or 6 weeks after her being dead. We were not ready for another cat. An ex- SPCA volunteer, (SPCA - a local animal shelter) who lives across the street contacted us whether we were interested in homing this cat called Garfield. He was a pure ginger Persian, and had been found in a horrible state. SPCA had nowhere to put him as the government has been constantly refusing them land to home more animals.
They had shown us photos of how he looked like, and told us the story of how he was found. The photos were of this confused cat, partially covered in tarmac, thin, and just in a mess. He had been in the streets for a while, and had ventured into a villa that an English family were renting looking for food. They took him in, but only for a couple of days as they were going back to England. They contacted SPCA who took him in, got him cleaned up, took him to the vet, had tests done on him to make sure he was fine. A couple took him in shortly after, but only for a short while. It was a tiny flat, he had nowhere to go, they wouldn't let him on the roof. So they took him back. SPCA were going to put him down. They had nowhere to keep him, he was staying in a travel cage and was only let out for maybe an hour every day.
That's when we decided, this cat has had enough suffering. We'll bring him in.
He never ran, he literally hopped. His front legs and his back legs collided together, and that's how he ran.
He was confused at curtains. He used to try to get under the tiny gap of curtains, or just leap from afar at them. Or wait patiently until a bit of wind blew them open.
He used to ALWAYS come next to someone, just so he wouldn't be alone, and roll over for attention. And when you touched his tummy, he reminded me of an underwater dinosaur. He used to make me laugh so much.
In the past 7 weeks, he started refusing to eat. Last Friday, refusing to drink. His entire personality had changed from a social silly cat, to a sullen depressed cat. We could not think of what had happened at all. We took EVERY single test out there all came negative, appetite stimulants - none of them worked, force feeding - sometimes, but more often not, worked, introducing new food, playing with him, cuddling him, nothing worked. Nothing.
As most Persians have troubles with their eyes, he had a flipped eyelid, and we got it fixed for him, and cuddled him afterwards. We didn't leave him there overnight. Just for a couple of hours. That was before his depression. A bit afterwards he started refusing to eat. We took him to the vets, and he had a bit of tartar in his mouth, got it removed. Then nothing. He would sometimes eat, more often not. Mum and I were perplexed. Dad and her searched the internet for answers, all the answers were to do what we were already doing. I contacted an online vet, asked for help. I got an answer, and again, an answer to what we were already doing. Except she suggested baby food, and we did. He ate an entire jar in two days. But we had to force it in him. He wouldn't drink by himself. We had to make sure he drank by using a syringe. By himself ? Nothing. I couldn't believe it. Which cat, would not eat. Which cat, you tell me, will refuse water, fish, chicken ANYTHING.
Monday morning, I started praying to God. I had not prayed in a long time. Not since he took my Paps away from me. And immediately afterwards got an idea. Baby formula. Babies survive on this don't they ? When they're newly born and don't drink breast milk ? They get their vitamins from it, and live on it ! My cat can aswell ! He drank 10ml of watered down baby formula every hour. He stood on his own, shaky, but he stood. He opened his eyes. I started gaining hope. I was at school on the other island at this time. But my mum told me afterward, he looked at her with the saddest eyes possible.
Tuesday morning. I texted my mum whether everything was okay. She told me he drank another 10ml at 7am, but he was not looking well at all. Something she told me later on was that his body temperature was dropping. She covered him up in hope that he would warm up, and tried giving him another 10ml, but he looked like he was gonna throw it up. He tried sliding out of the blanket, so that he was dangling half way down his chair. He was going to die. And she knew it. He went to his favorite spot which was damp... and she took him away from it and took him to another much loved spot of his. He was sleeping all the time, and that's how he died.
He died 25th October 2011, at 11am in his sleep.
We were confused, and perplexed, and trying to find out what had happened.
Yesterday, my boyfriend mentioned something I had completely forgotten. One time he came down from the roof with his bum slowly lowered, and his tail looked like it was in pain. Mum and me worried about it. We now realized something.
He loved going on the roof. He loved travelling on our neighbors' roofs. Our local roofs are like rooms with short walls and no ceiling. And our houses touch each other. It was easy for him to go back and forth. In his last few weeks, he stopped wanting to go on the roof. When we took him up there, in hope that he would go back to normal, he would go as far away from one of our neighbors' roofs as possible and hide. We did not realize it at the time.
Our neighbors, who have disliked us for years, for some unknown reason, had been bullying Puddina. Had actually hurt him. And made him depressed. Before he was found, he was probably abused. It is a very high probability.
We never, ever laid our hands on him in that way. Not even when he peed in inappropriate places.
I am so angry, so very angry that they would harm an innocent animal, someone who was gentle and so silly. And loved everyone who paid him the slightest attention. How dare they.
We had him for just over a year and a month.
R.I.P Garfield. I will always love you, you were gorgeous.