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Monday, March 03, 2008

Goodbye to Spooky the Barn Cat


My farrier was about to get started on Phoenix’s hooves when she paused for a visit with the Barn Cat. He was up on the windowsill, one of his usual haunts. I was closing the stall door and had my back turned.

“Heidi! What’s wrong with your cat?” She sounded alarmed.

When I turned around, I could see from where I was that his right cheek was hairless and infected. Oh no.

“Last time I was, here two weeks ago, he had a little lump in his cheek. I told Dad about it but then Spooky didn’t show up much...”

Barn cats do that. They kind of have their own agenda and if they’re not hungry, they might not come home for a bowl full of kibble. This little guy was pretty faithful. He might take off for a few days but he always came home again. And now he was home and very badly damaged.

I held him, paws in my hands, and Mary opened his mouth. It was bad. That side of his mouth was nothing but oozing infection. My heart dropped. “We have to do something about this.”

We got busy with Phoenix’s trim, which luckily went very well. I was very worried about a crack in his hind hoof. It was bad enough that my Dad called Mary two weeks early to come look at it. The crack is only on the outer surface of the hoof wall, and will likely grow out. But the good news about the hoof was shadowed by the very strong possibility that our cat had a fatal injury.

My daughter came out to see what was going on in the barn and of course, had to stop to pet Spooky. It’s barn rules. I heard her over at the other stall, petting the little mare and then noticing something wrong with the cat. “We’re going to have to call the vet, sweetie.” She’s old enough to know what that meant.

He’d have to be put down. There was no other solution. Whenever I make this final decision I feel like I have to defend it. I love my animals, and I want them to have good lives, but sometimes that means knowing when to end it. Put him out of his misery. You can’t look a critter in the eye and say, “We’re going to take you to the doctor and it will hurt, then it will hurt more, and we’ll have to poke you and needle you for a few months, but eventually you’ll feel better.” All they know is the immediate.

Things get tougher when it’s a barn cat. Because of their independent nature, they might not be there when it’s time to give him his dose of medicine. A house cat can’t hide as easily.




Worse, a cat will slink off to be alone. They do that. I can’t count how many times, when I was a kid, one of our favourite cats would disappear. Our parents would warn us that it happens, and we might not ever see her again. They sneak away and die alone. A few times, the cat would show up later, good as new. Other times, we’d find a cold little body in the hay mow. Life is cruel. Death is final.

I thought about my beloved house cat while I waited for the vet to call back. Nigel is (approximately) eighteen years old. We’ve almost lost him a few times. I have spent money on this cat. I questioned it every time. He’s a cat and the practical farm girl that I am, wondered if this was the best way to spend my money when I had groceries to buy and a mortgage to pay... but I owed him that. I knew he needed help, and he was there for me to help him.

But Spooky was in such bad shape I couldn’t imagine making him suffer longer. I didn’t even want to make him wait for the clinic to reopen on Monday. My mother and I had a few tears and sobs and told each other that we had to do it this way. I made arrangements and went back out to the barn. For a half hour, I cleaned the barn and kept checking on the sweet black cat, who sat curled up in the shavings. I’d call his name and he’d answer with a weak, scratchy meow. He didn’t run off. Did he know? Was he ready?

When Dad was farming, euthanizing a cat was impractical. It had to be done at home. I won’t discuss it but I will say that my Dad looked relieved when my husband and I offered to take Spooky in. He said a quiet goodbye. This was my Dad’s favourite cat.

The vet was very understanding. She had been the assistant when my horse died. I told her to come out sometime for a routine check in the spring and get to see some healthy horses. She's really cool and it would be nice to see her when we're not ending an animal's life.

Euthanasia is a wonderful thing. The concept of paying that fee and ending up with no animal seems hurtful and ridiculous, but that’s the price of peace. It’s worth it. Spooky gave one last purr as he slumped in my arms. I could be convinced that it was just his last breath exiting but I’d like to think he trusted me. There was no violence or struggle.

This is the part of pet ownership that nobody wants to think about. Every critter you love will get old or sick or hurt, one or the other. If we want to tame them, and live with them, we’ve made them dependent on us, and we face the possibility of having to make this hard decision. I know I did the right thing, and I’ve held two cats and one much loved horse as they died, I have seen and felt the life force leave them, and known that they didn’t have to suffer anymore...but it’s never easy.

Dad’s concerned about finding another great cat like Spooky. He’d been a failed housecat who spent the first year in the barn hiding, which is how he got his name. Once he decided that we had food and food is good, he became the tamest friendliest guy. He was a neutered male, with claws, so he didn’t have that Tomcat need to prowl around the neighbourhood looking for girlfriends, rarely got in fights with visiting Toms- in fact, those guys just kind of avoided him- and was an excellent mouser. In the winter, he made himself a little nest in the loose hay in front of Copper’s stall and curled up. He shared her water bucket. In the summer, we’d see him every morning at about 7:30, crossing the corral in the same diagonal line, from the field to the barn, with little paws and a tail hanging out of his mouth. Later in the day, he’d set his front paws on the water trough for a little drink. If it was too hot to sleep in the house, we’d camp out on the deck, and the kids were thrilled that they still had a black cat to cuddle. How can you sleep without a black cat?



He had a wide face and green eyes and one white whisker. He had a scratchy meow and a frantic loud purr. He’d walk along the edge of the troughs in the barn while we fed the horses, demanding a pat. When Dad picked him up, the cat would smush the top of his head under Dad’s chin, stretching one paw out and flexing his claws in happiness. In almost ten years he never had a serious health problem. He got the goopy eyes and sniffles once, and just when I was about to call the vet, he cleared up. The darn cat even knew how to look both ways before crossing the road, which he didn’t do often. He stuck pretty close to home. When my sister came to the farm to visit, he came trotting out to say hi. He greeted my mom when she came home from work. My kids loved having a black cat at home and another at Grandma’s farm.




Every now and then other cats would pass by. There was a sweet little thing a few months ago. On Saturday night when I headed out to the barn, I saw a black and white cat zip around the corner of the barn wall. Dad brought a scoop of kibble out to the barn with him, just in case.




If the visitor is a fickle female or a traveling Tom, I think we’ll go looking for another neutered male with claws who can settle in and live a nice comfy life. No feline roommates, steady supply of kibble and mice, lots of pats and cuddles at chore time. Free to come and go as desired. It’s a good life. And that's what matters.


16 comments:

coffeypot said...

Sorry for you loss, but you definitely did the right thing. Euthanasia is the most humane way for an injured animal to go. Just go to sleep and never suffer again. I wish we could do that to humans, too. I had rather go that way than suffer from pain or without dignity (I spend so much of my life now without dignity, the least I should be able to do is die with it.) I agree that you should get another Tom. I suggest you go to a rescue place and pick one out – thus possibly saving it from being put down, too. But don’t, or at least try not to, compare the two cats. It isn’t fair to the new one, plus you might get to like his personality just as much. RIP, Spooky! BTW, what was the wound? Fight, tumor, cancer, what?

Heidi the Hick said...

Thanks Coffeypot.

The vet said that the clinic might know where there are some cats who need homes. Our house cat was a rescue and I keep saying he was the best $50 I ever spent.

Spooky's a hard act to follow, but I don't think we'll compare a new cat too much. There have been soooo many cats in that barn in my lifetime. Taming the cats and naming them was a big job for two little girls back in the day. We can always learn to love another one!

The vet couldn't say for sure what it was, but it was probably a fight injury that got infected. He didn't fight much though... he even shared his kibble with the raccoons! We'll never know, cuz he didn't tell us...

Yep, he was an awesome cat. He got ten good years of life.

CindyDianne said...

Awh, Heidi. I am so sorry for your (and your kids and your Dad's) loss. What an ache that sort of thing causes. I am so sorry.

dilling said...

Poor Spooky...dangit...I'm bawling...thinking of those final moments that we never get over.
must go walk the dog must go walk the dog...

Astaryth said...

Poor Spooky. But, I agree with you, it was for the best. Still, it is always a hard decision to make.

Heidi the Hick said...

hug your critters, everybody!

Heidi the Hick said...

Wouldn't it be nice if all animals would live to a good old age and have been very chummy since the big dance. after a good life, die very peacefully in their sleep?

That's how my first pony went. She was 25 and she just quit. Bless.

millhousethecat said...

Aw, geez, Heidi. So sorry about the pet. We went through that a year ago with one of our beloved dogs and it just ain't easy. You did the right thing, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

Tod said...

Poor Spooky, but it was the right thing to do.

Dr. Medusa said...

What a wonderful tribute to Spooky. And thank you for writing so plainly and thoughtfully about euthanasia. It's something all pet lovers struggle with and these words truly help in processing the experience, even (in my case) some years after the fact.

Love and hugs to all who loved Spooky.

captain corky said...

Spooky's a great name. Sorry for your loss. I know it's not going to be any fun when the day comes that we have to put down our Fonzie. Hopefully that day wont come for a long time!

Anita said...

I'm very sorry, but just like everyone else, I know you did the right thing..

I had a dog for 17 years that took off once... after two weeks he finally ended up at the pound, and when we went to get him he didn't even recognize us at first... I should have known then that something was wrong... But we took him home, and two weeks later he tore the screen out of a window and got away and we never saw him again... We know it was just his time, and he knew it, but that is not the way we would have wanted him to go...

Marni said...

I read somewhere once that the one thing God got wrong was that we have to out live our pets. I dread the day that I have to say good bye to the boys.

Your story about Spooky loving on your dad made me tear up worse than the thought of his passing. What a happy, content little boy he was.

RIP Spooky.

jules said...

So sorry about Spooky. I wanted to give you my condolences about Champ too, but couldn't at the time. It's always sad when pets die or have to be put down. I just did this with one of my dogs. Please know that I feel your pain and loss and my thoughts are with you and your family, especially your Dad.

Heidi the Hick said...

Thanks everybody. We'll be okay.

I take it soooo hard when I lose a critter but it's worth it to have them, while they're with us!

Nicole said...

I'm really sorry about your barn kitty, Heidi. It's so hard to lose the critters we've grown attached to. You did right by him.