It seems to be a bad week for Dopers’ pets. Both Leaffan and Dung Beetle are mourning (and others too but those two threads are currently sequential) So am I. Unlike them I wasn’t involved in any end of life decisions for Philo, and I wasn’t expecting it. My cat, my sweet, sweet, lap cuddling cat was mauled to death by my neighbor’s St. Bernard.
Over in another thread I shared the story of Philo.
Here’s the shortest possible recap: In May of 2012 he came to live with us. In August of this year he released himself on his own recognizance. On November 4th he showed up back at my house. He and my older cat really are incompatible so I couldn’t just bring him in. I’d been feeding him outside and built him a shelter, while looking halfheartedly - still hoping for a miracle reconciliation - for a comfortable real home for him.
Yesterday my son called me, concerned. He said “I think you should come home. Philo isn’t moving.” We’ve been having unusually cold weather. I drove home hating myself because I hadn’t found a home fast enough and he must’ve frozen to death. When I arrived he appeared to simply be lying on his side on the ground. I had called the vet before driving home and was still thinking there was some kitty cat crash cart saving that could happen. When I got close to him it was apparent that the life had already gone out of him. It wasn’t until I picked him up (with a towel) intending to still take him to the vet’s office for his final arrangements that I saw that the whole right side of his body was badly injured and bleeding.
“How do you know it was the neighbors’ dog?” you may ask. The fact is I don’t know with absolute certainty, but it’s an educated guess. Based on where I found him and her history.
Daisy killed my downstairs neighbor’s kitten a few years ago with four people witnessing, unable to do anything fast enough. But that was a tiny, yet to be hardened kitten. Philo had just demonstrated that he could handle his business out there on his own for over three months. I didn’t think to worry that he’d go in that yard, or not be able to outrun Daisy if he did.
We did have a great lap cuddle the night before, and that’s the memory I’m going to try and keep in the forefront.
The day Philo came to live with us my son dubbed him “officially the second most chill cat ever.” (The first being Ferdinand, the cat who was with us from 1996 to 2007.) A few weeks later my mother told me “He doesn’t want to tell you because he thinks it might upset you, but he now thinks Philo is actually more chill than Ferdinand.” He was, but it was a close race.
Now I am going to miss him in a very different way than if he’d just gone to live with another family the next town over.
some photos:
From the flyer that led us to him.
So helpful.
So dignified.
