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Dammitdammitdammit
May. 2nd, 2008 02:17 pmHarley's dead.
Chris called me and any phone call that starts "I didn't want to tell you this over the phone" is never a good one. He said that our neighbors came home and found him in the road. He told me that he'd bury the poor thing when he got home (midnight, working overtime tonight) but I went over there with Kaylee in her car seat, and our neighbor helped me dig the grave while his wife watched Kaylee for a few minutes.
I opened the bag to say goodbye to him. There was blood on his nose and down his jawline and the eye I could see was all clouded over. Rest of him was dirty, but I didn't see blood. I'm hoping that means it was a head shot and it was really quick and he didn't know what happened. But if it wasn't quick then he was lying there trying to breathe and I wasn't anywhere around. He didn't deserve that, even if it was quick, and the asshole who did it didn't even stop and if I knew who it was I swear to god I'd beat the shit out of him.
We buried him in the backyard and then I went to get Kaylee and when we went back home there was another cat waiting on our porch. A couple of them have started hanging around since we began feeding Harley. We've named this one Cheerio because she has an old large, circular burn mark on her side where the fur's grown back shorter. And there's a tiny black one who's just started to approach me, but won't get any closer than ten feet. I think she's feral. They both go at the food like they haven't eaten in weeks.
And I'll probably find one or both of them killed sooner or later, too. But I'll keep feeding them because what else do you do? I tried to help Harley but I didn't help him enough because I couldn't bring him in-- our littlest cat doesn't deal well with attempted new additions, she hides and freaks out and pees all over everything-- and now he's dead. Shit.
Chris called me and any phone call that starts "I didn't want to tell you this over the phone" is never a good one. He said that our neighbors came home and found him in the road. He told me that he'd bury the poor thing when he got home (midnight, working overtime tonight) but I went over there with Kaylee in her car seat, and our neighbor helped me dig the grave while his wife watched Kaylee for a few minutes.
I opened the bag to say goodbye to him. There was blood on his nose and down his jawline and the eye I could see was all clouded over. Rest of him was dirty, but I didn't see blood. I'm hoping that means it was a head shot and it was really quick and he didn't know what happened. But if it wasn't quick then he was lying there trying to breathe and I wasn't anywhere around. He didn't deserve that, even if it was quick, and the asshole who did it didn't even stop and if I knew who it was I swear to god I'd beat the shit out of him.
We buried him in the backyard and then I went to get Kaylee and when we went back home there was another cat waiting on our porch. A couple of them have started hanging around since we began feeding Harley. We've named this one Cheerio because she has an old large, circular burn mark on her side where the fur's grown back shorter. And there's a tiny black one who's just started to approach me, but won't get any closer than ten feet. I think she's feral. They both go at the food like they haven't eaten in weeks.
And I'll probably find one or both of them killed sooner or later, too. But I'll keep feeding them because what else do you do? I tried to help Harley but I didn't help him enough because I couldn't bring him in-- our littlest cat doesn't deal well with attempted new additions, she hides and freaks out and pees all over everything-- and now he's dead. Shit.
