Goodbye, Meow

The street cat that lives outside my apartment is on its last legs after a failed pregnancy. I think most the babies are still inside (one of which came out and died after a struggle) and she just gave up, exhausted. It’s been days now of lying around, barely raising her head to acknowledge anything or anyone, unfinished food. Now she doesn’t open her eyes and her body is stiff. Breathing, shaking/twitching, but not much else.

I guess if I was somebody like my loving vegan friend, Faye​, I would be immediately taking it to the vet to spend everything I have in the bank on a low chance of survival, but unfortunately I doubt I even have enough for such a probably surgery, and even if I did, I don’t trust the Chinese animal doctors in the slightest. Additionally, the cat has been fed and looked after by an elderly man who seems to have nothing else to put his attention to, so it would be unfair of me to take to a vet for it to die away from him. He did, afterall, build it a wooden home and gave some of his old clothing as bedding.

I’m happy he did what he did because he was the only counter argument against my neighbour, who has a cat permanently chained to the wall in their kitchen, where it spends its entire life desperately meowling as loud as its throat will allow it without breaking (Although sometimes it does break, you can hear it). There it will live, year after year, night after night, sitting in its box. I find it difficult to stop myself generalising about all Chinese as uncaring beasts when it comes to animals.

Another was near my friend’s previous home, in which a magpie was hanging in a tiny cage outside a door. A common sight for ‘good luck’ or whatever bullshit. In the cage, the magpie was unable to do anything but stand in the same spot. I doubt it could so much as turn around. It was smart. Without breaking the law I would point at the required hinge to unleash the door and escape, and it would acknowledge, move away from its previous unrelenting attempts to get out, and attempt my suggestion. However, I doubt it could even fly.

Well, I’ve said my goodbyes to Meow (placeholder name), and I’m very sad with little expectation she’ll survive, but there’s always that lingering hope that she will recover in some way.
I was kind of hoping that the dozens and dozens of pets that have died in my life would have made me a bit numb but I guess the last death, Dizzi, was quite some years ago now and my brain has since weakened again.

Time to get myself 25 cats to build up an immunity. Goodbye, Meow (placeholder name)

 

Edit: I got home from a day out to find she has, finally, ended her pain and passed away. I hold no shame in the tears I have trouble holding back but it doesn’t make much sense. I guess it was the release of a bunch of pent up emotions or something.

I left a message in English and Chinese, saying goodbye and how I’ll miss seeing her every day on my way to work.

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2 thoughts on “Goodbye, Meow

  1. When a loving human soul becomes immune to the sadness of the transition of another’s life to that which we call death, that human loses part of their soul. There’s no shame in love and tears. There’s many a non-caring person in the world already. No need to add to the numbers.

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