Had several indoor/outdoor cats though the decades and only one was a hunter that would actually kill. The other 4 were utterly harmless to wildlife. Not Ozzy.
Picked him up too young to take home, but a customer of mine had 6 litters one Sunday morning. You can imagine how overrun and diseased that area was. But damn. He fit in my palm, was black and blue and white, and had no future. And we’d been talking about getting a cat.
Long story short, took him to the vet; Hookworms, roundworms, tapeworms, fleas, black with ear mites, and feline leukemia. My vet gently suggested I put him down. She gave a 1-in-5 chance of surviving the cancer, probably die 6-months later anyway.
“Got him for my girlfriend, we have to talk about this first.” She respected that.
Jenny and I went in our bedroom and had a sit down. Well shit, the animal was so weak he could barely move. We decided to kill him. (I will not apply euphemisms.) And we cried. A lot.
Came out to see what the noise was. We was chasing a moth around the lamp! First we had ever seen him move. “OK buddy, you got your chance.”
Ozzy cleared the mice out of the walls a week after he got strong. Started eating the whole animal, later got picky and left heads and tails laying around. No more mice? He hunted the industrial area beyond our yard. Don’t know what he found out there, but he barely touched his cat food.
He died in the street, as outdoor cats often do, but he got a second lease on life and Ozzy burned that candle so very bright.
Had several indoor/outdoor cats though the decades and only one was a hunter that would actually kill. The other 4 were utterly harmless to wildlife. Not Ozzy.
Picked him up too young to take home, but a customer of mine had 6 litters one Sunday morning. You can imagine how overrun and diseased that area was. But damn. He fit in my palm, was black and blue and white, and had no future. And we’d been talking about getting a cat.
Long story short, took him to the vet; Hookworms, roundworms, tapeworms, fleas, black with ear mites, and feline leukemia. My vet gently suggested I put him down. She gave a 1-in-5 chance of surviving the cancer, probably die 6-months later anyway.
“Got him for my girlfriend, we have to talk about this first.” She respected that.
Jenny and I went in our bedroom and had a sit down. Well shit, the animal was so weak he could barely move. We decided to kill him. (I will not apply euphemisms.) And we cried. A lot.
Came out to see what the noise was. We was chasing a moth around the lamp! First we had ever seen him move. “OK buddy, you got your chance.”
Ozzy cleared the mice out of the walls a week after he got strong. Started eating the whole animal, later got picky and left heads and tails laying around. No more mice? He hunted the industrial area beyond our yard. Don’t know what he found out there, but he barely touched his cat food.
He died in the street, as outdoor cats often do, but he got a second lease on life and Ozzy burned that candle so very bright.
Those poor birds :(
Yep, fuck cats.
gonna pour one out for Ozzy, the glorious bastard
cheers to Ozzy, may his hunts be plentiful in the great cat Valhalla