Wednesday, 13 January 2010


Two cats, one house, two stories.

Hettie (top) is a cat I've written about before. I rescued her as a stray from Hetton, a village on the outskirts of the city boundary. She was given tablets to treat her for thyroid problems but showed no sign of improvement. Honour of Vets4Pets was convinced that Carol wasn't dealing with her properly and wanted her taken away from Carol. This I duly did, despite Carol insisting she was getting the tablets and was kept in isolation away from other cats. I picked her and Bettie up on the same day, Bettie coming from deep in Durham, and took them both to Lynn who had agreed to look after them.

That was four weeks ago. Hettie's tablets had just about run out and it was time to take her back to see Honour. I picked that cat up a couple of hours early due to scheduling problems and took her home where she had a quick look round but mostly sat on the couch when she wasn't trying to get into the kitchen. I did give a small amount to eat just before we set off. She was friendly but it seemed to me that she'd lost weight and got to the state that she really was just skin and bone and I was seriously considering asking Honour to put her to sleep.

Bettie, in the meantime, had settled in well at Lynn's. She's a healthy, friendly young cat with a lovely soft coat and not pregnant as was first feared. She's been outside a few times and returned quite quickly. I'm going to put her photo up on the website and see if we get any takers.

Honour took Hettie through the back to weigh her, returned, checked it against the last time she'd been here -and she had lost weight- and then said that she probably had a tumour and it would be best if she was put to sleep. I'm glad Honour said that because it meant  I didn't. It also vindicated Carol but I didn't say that either.

I stroked her and talked to her until her tiny heart finally stopped.

In the evening I went to the pub with Barry for the first time in over three months since he was hospitalised for heart surgery. While walking through town to the pub I saw a young woman awkwardly getting to her feet after an obvious fall. As she was up and walking when I reached her, I didn't stop. Then I noticed she'd dropped her phone and what looked like a house key. I picked them up and went after her. When I handed them over I asked her if she was okay which she said she was. She did look shakey, mind, but I didn't pursue it and Barry was waiting for me so I went on my way.

I'm still wondering if I should have offered more help. I suspect not; she could have been drunk or on drugs. But I don't know. Barry thought I'd done what I could and should, yet still...

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