I've been working at the Toronto Humane Society for over a week now. Most of my day if not all is spent medicating the sick cats and giving treatments to cats with long term diseases such as Diabetes. I haven't done much with the dogs or other animals there but I don't mind, when I'm not clocked in I at times go and look at the other animals wanting so badly to take them home. Two moments have stood out thus far that I must write about to try and heal.
My first day consisted of dealing with death. After medicating most of the cats in one room that had URI we went into one of the Isolation rooms where the more sick cats are. One cat stood out to me during the time we were in there. An orange and white female with no name, she had litter and other gunk stuck to her face from dried saliva. She had feces stuck to her back end as she didn't seem able either that or just didn't care to get up and use her litter box any more. She was redundant, in her own little world, she was there physically but mentally she was far from being in that room and aware of the things going on around her. The moment I walked in that room with the vet the smell of death was strong. Looking at that poor nameless cat I knew why, most of the cats in that room were severaly ill and most have now passed on with a couple getting better while the cages of the cats that had passed on were filled with more severaly ill cats.
I did what I could in that room and then moved to give the orange and white some attention, cleaning her face as best I could without hurting her. When she would work up the energy to complain and resist I would stop and stroke her head and back, telling her it was OK, that she was a pretty girl. When her face was clean again I worked on her back end, removing the feces stuck on her legs, tail and bum. She didn't complain and at one moment I thought I heard a purr but it might have just been my imagination. Lunch time came and I gave her a final pat and went to eat coming back I went right back into the room, the vet asked if I wanted to spend some time with her, give her some loving and make a final choice on if we should put her down or see if she makes it to the morning and go from there. I was left with her then. Picking her up out of her cage she cried but quickly fell silent and curled into my arms, resting her head on my upper arm as I moved to the window in the room. I turned so she could look outside without moving and for the first time that I saw that day she perked up, watching the cars pass by, the birds on the roof, the clouds moving through the sky. She perked up and lifted her head her eyes lost that dull look for a brief moment. I was thrilled and thought maybe she just needed some loving, something to get her attention. But after several moments of looking out the window she setteled back into my arms and went limp again. I stayed by the window, petting her, telling her she was a beautiful little girl, she would look up and meow at me in a sad and sorry tone. I would tell her softly to shh and stroked her chin while trying to hold back tears as another employee came into the room to tend to the other cats. While there we made some small talk about her and he asked if I wanted to name her. One quick thought and the name Glory came to me.
I could imagine how regal she must have looked before she fell ill. How sleek and shiney her coat must have been, how plump she was, the look of pure intelligence and knowledge in her face and the energy she must have had. But now she was nothing but skin and bones, her hair clumping and dull, she had nothing in her face but a dull barely alive look. Yet when I held her to that window she perked up so much I knew that was what she had been once, how much she must have adored watching the day go by around her before she got sick. So I remained by the window with her for awhile more before placing her back in her cage and cleaning her some more while thinking and telling her that I loved her and told her everytime she cried to shh it would soon be all over. I knew the answer already, knew what was best for her. That look in her eyes told me she was already dead on the inside, she was ready to go there was no reason to prolong her suffering. I couldn't help but cry.
At the end of our shift I told the vet my choice and she agreed. She asked if I wanted to hold her during it I nodded and held her as the vet gave her the first injection. Glory would fall asleep soon and then the final injection would be given to her. We couldn't find a vein and so I had to lay her on the table so the vet could put the final injection into her heart. I didn't want her to go on that cold steel table I wanted Glory to go in warm and loving arms but that wasn't to be. She was gone within seconds. The next day in that room her hair was still on the table. I picked it up, stroked it for a bit in my hand and with a final whispered good bye and an I'm sorry I swept it up and put it in the trash can.
I miss her without every really knowing her. Another cat died overnight in the room and why it still saddened me to learn that that cat had died Glory tugged at my head so bad I still dream about her but a her that was healthy and vibrant. Saturday while at work and doing my daily morning meds I came to a pair of kittens, a brother and sister, black and an orange tabby. The little black female, Lucy was doing very well, constantly trying to get her brother to play with her. Lincon, her brother would have none of it. He would growl and smack at her, he was still ill, a heavy nasal discharge smeared his face, his eyes were runny and painful looking and he weezed as he breathed. The meds weren't working, he was getting worse. I put a vet check tag on their kennel card for the vets to look at him when they came in the next day before I left the day before. Yesterday morning as I came to their cage I noticed something wasn't right. Lucy was bouncing around like normal but when she went over to bat at Lincon there was no movement, no sound. I opened their cage, he didn't move, normally he would have. Lucy stopped batting at her brother and came bounding over crying I lifted her into my arms where she eagerly snuggled into me and started purring. With my other hand I went to touch Lincon, I knew he was dead but wanted proof, wanted to be wrong. He was stiff and cold, he'd died. I sat back on the floor telling Lucy I was so sorry, telling Lincon I was so sorry until a vet came in and I told her what was wrong. Lincon, a beautiful orange tabby kitten was dead, his sister grived for him, tried to get him to play and wake from his slumber. It was so hard to see that. So see her grab at you as you walked by after he had been removed, cry at you and then go to the spot he had been and sniff before crying out adn coming back to the front of the cage. Poor little girl, she must be so confused and hurting. I hope she continues to get healthy so she can be adopted by a wonderful new family, loved on, pampered and have a another cat as a playmate, get everything that her brother deserved but never got.
RIP Glory and Lincon. You'll be missed but your free from your suffering now. You were both in my dreams last night, healthy and beautiful, the way you should have been, had been.
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