I've written before about the outdoor cats we began caring for nearly four years ago. We know these are not particularly young cats. There have been a couple of times one has disappeared for some time, and I've worried that the four might be down to three. There is one female in particular that often spends time away, and I'm always grateful to see her again when she returns. This summer, the male alpha appeared to have a stroke. These cats still won't allow us to touch them or get too close, so we knew a vet trip was not an option. Honestly, we were planning to allow nature to take its course.
That happened this morning. I went outside to feed them, and found the male alpha half in and half out of the shelter. It was dark, and had it not been for some light coming through the window I wouldn't have seen him. Honestly, I have a pretty serious phobia about dead things. I turned around and went inside and informed the family that one of the cats had passed. They asked which one, and I couldn't tell them because I didn't know. As soon as I realized it I was out of there. Catherine, my sweet girl who really should work with pets someday, went out to investigate and determined it was Abraham, the male alpha (we did not name them...the woman caring for them for years before us did so). Of all the cats, this one was the one I would be least emotionally attached to, but I am always saddened when an animal passes. I emailed their previous caretaker, and she confirmed he was definitely an elderly cat. As I told Andrew, I'm grateful that we know for certain, and aren't just left wondering if he was alive or dead, or if there was some awful ending. His time just ran out, and I'm sure the single digit temperatures didn't help.
It was definitely a startling and unexpectedly sad beginning to my day!
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