Baby Boy Bengal (unknown birth day - May 15, 2009)

{{{{Annie}}}}

You gave him the greatest gifts one living creature can give to
another...love and compassion.

| My spirit is broken, I can do no more.

I am so very sorry and sad. I know exactly how it feels, too, from losing
Annabelle's baby brother. May he rest in peace. Thanks for being with him to
the end. He needed you for that.

What a sad end for such a beautiful, sweet kitty. I was very touched
by how he put his head on your hand at the end. He couldn't have known
what was happening to him, but he knew he didn't feel well, and he was
in a strange place. Perhaps he even sensed that he was dying, the way
many animals seem to know that. And he chose to trust you to comfort
him. That shows that you did make a connection with him throughout your
efforts to socialize him and get him to trust you. He did, when it really
counted.

I'm so sorry that you didn't get to keep him and keep building that
relationship. I know that must be devastating.

Hugs and purrs,
Joyce


"Smokie Darling (Annie)" wrote:

Actually, he wasn't a baby. I have no idea how old he was. I tried
to catch him, all winter. Tried to show him he could trust me. He
had begun to allow me to get near, but not close. He ate after
sundown, because he was terrified of some of the other Tom cats
around.

My neighbor, who speaks nearly no English, came to me this morning.
She tried to tell me there was a sick cat at her house. I understood
'gato', but not much else. Her son came over and said that there was
a cat, he seemed very ill, and no one would come and get him. I went
over, and there was my Baby Boy Bengal (who I called Bengi because I
could never get close enough to see if he was a boy or a girl). He
was breathing, but just lying there.

I picked him up. This tiny thing (he was probably 18 months old) that
had been such a full bodied cat, less than 3 months ago. He'd been so
cared for, I thought maybe his slaves had found him, when I stopped
seeing him around. He couldn't have weighed 4 pounds now. I could
feel his little bones, and he obviously had a respiratory thing.

I called my own TED, and asked if I could bring him in. Thinking, URI
and some dehydration, and I'd have the Bengal cat I've been wanting.
I wrapped him in a clean, soft towel, and off to the vet we went. Me
crying, asking *whoever* to please protect the little one, to not take
two from me, within three weeks.

We waited in the room for her to finish her surgery. I was given a
bowl of water, and a little 'dropper', to see if he'd (we realized he
was intact) drink water. He would. Everytime I moved my hands away,
he'd crawl over to lie on my left hand, while I droppered water into
his mouth, with my right.

He had the eyes of my Tuppence (RB 05). He looked so tired. I knew,
even then. I hoped, I cried, I begged him to be alright. I begged
him to just have an infection that I could treat. I told him that I
would take care of him, and I'd treat him the way he appeared to
deserve.

The vet came in. She told me that he was very anemic (his gums were
nearly white). She said it's a kindness to let him go. I said,
please do blood work. I want to know if it's beyond help before I
decide to send him on his way. She did as I asked.

I sat with him, and talked to him, told him how beautiful he was, how
much I would love him, if only he would be alright, so I could take
him home. The vet came back. Bad news. His red cells were so low,
that even an infusion would probably not save him. His clotting
factor was non-existent (dont' remember what she said it was). She
said, again, it's a kindness to let him go.

We sat for a time. I told him what a good boy he'd been. I told him
how I looked for him everyday, because he was so handsome. I told him
that I wanted to pet him from the moment I first laid eyes on him. I
pet him, and I held him close to me. When the vet came back in, I
told her we were ready.

As she shaved his leg, I told him that Tuppence, Nicodemus, Madison,
and Piewackett (to name a few) would be waiting for him. I told him
to look for Pretty Face and Chief and Sam and Snuggums and Pookie and
Big Mouth and too many other ferals and strays to recall. I told him
that I would be looking for him, when it was my turn to walk that
way. I asked him if he saw Little Foot to tell him that I tried very
hard to protect him, and I was so sorry I hadn't, but that I loved
him.

I held his head, off the cold steel table, so that he wouldn't have
some that hard as his last memory. I stroke his back and tummy as the
vet sent him on his final journey. I told him that I would miss him,
even though I hardly knew him. And I cried. Harder than I have every
cried for any of the others. Maybe because I knew the others had been
shown love and caring by me, because they all knew that I wanted to
protect and keep them warm. He didn't know those things from me.

It was a long, hard ride in, with worry. It was a long, desperately
sad ride home, without him. My spirit is broken, I can do no more.

Smokie Darling (Annie)

"Smokie Darling (Annie)" wrote in message
...
Actually, he wasn't a baby. I have no idea how old he was. I tried
to catch him, all winter. Tried to show him he could trust me. He
had begun to allow me to get near, but not close. He ate after
sundown, because he was terrified of some of the other Tom cats
around.


I'm so sorry Annie. You tried so hard with him and loved him so much.

Pam S. crying too

Smokie Darling (Annie) wrote:
gentle snip
I held his head, off the cold steel table, so that he wouldn't have
some that hard as his last memory. I stroke his back and tummy as the
vet sent him on his final journey. I told him that I would miss him,
even though I hardly knew him. And I cried. Harder than I have every
cried for any of the others. Maybe because I knew the others had been
shown love and caring by me, because they all knew that I wanted to
protect and keep them warm. He didn't know those things from me.

But he did know them, if even for just those last few moments. I'm so
sorry Annie. Purrs and hugs.

--
Marina, Miranda and Caliban.
In loving memory of Frank and Nikki.

"Smokie Darling (Annie)" wrote in message
...
Actually, he wasn't a baby. I have no idea how old he was. I tried
to catch him, all winter. Tried to show him he could trust me. He
had begun to allow me to get near, but not close. He ate after
sundown, because he was terrified of some of the other Tom cats
around.

My neighbor, who speaks nearly no English, came to me this morning.
She tried to tell me there was a sick cat at her house. I understood
'gato', but not much else. Her son came over and said that there was
a cat, he seemed very ill, and no one would come and get him. I went
over, and there was my Baby Boy Bengal (who I called Bengi because I
could never get close enough to see if he was a boy or a girl). He
was breathing, but just lying there.

I picked him up. This tiny thing (he was probably 18 months old) that
had been such a full bodied cat, less than 3 months ago. He'd been so
cared for, I thought maybe his slaves had found him, when I stopped
seeing him around. He couldn't have weighed 4 pounds now. I could
feel his little bones, and he obviously had a respiratory thing.

I called my own TED, and asked if I could bring him in. Thinking, URI
and some dehydration, and I'd have the Bengal cat I've been wanting.
I wrapped him in a clean, soft towel, and off to the vet we went. Me
crying, asking *whoever* to please protect the little one, to not take
two from me, within three weeks.

We waited in the room for her to finish her surgery. I was given a
bowl of water, and a little 'dropper', to see if he'd (we realized he
was intact) drink water. He would. Everytime I moved my hands away,
he'd crawl over to lie on my left hand, while I droppered water into
his mouth, with my right.

He had the eyes of my Tuppence (RB 05). He looked so tired. I knew,
even then. I hoped, I cried, I begged him to be alright. I begged
him to just have an infection that I could treat. I told him that I
would take care of him, and I'd treat him the way he appeared to
deserve.

The vet came in. She told me that he was very anemic (his gums were
nearly white). She said it's a kindness to let him go. I said,
please do blood work. I want to know if it's beyond help before I
decide to send him on his way. She did as I asked.

I sat with him, and talked to him, told him how beautiful he was, how
much I would love him, if only he would be alright, so I could take
him home. The vet came back. Bad news. His red cells were so low,
that even an infusion would probably not save him. His clotting
factor was non-existent (dont' remember what she said it was). She
said, again, it's a kindness to let him go.

We sat for a time. I told him what a good boy he'd been. I told him
how I looked for him everyday, because he was so handsome. I told him
that I wanted to pet him from the moment I first laid eyes on him. I
pet him, and I held him close to me. When the vet came back in, I
told her we were ready.

As she shaved his leg, I told him that Tuppence, Nicodemus, Madison,
and Piewackett (to name a few) would be waiting for him. I told him
to look for Pretty Face and Chief and Sam and Snuggums and Pookie and
Big Mouth and too many other ferals and strays to recall. I told him
that I would be looking for him, when it was my turn to walk that
way. I asked him if he saw Little Foot to tell him that I tried very
hard to protect him, and I was so sorry I hadn't, but that I loved
him.

I held his head, off the cold steel table, so that he wouldn't have
some that hard as his last memory. I stroke his back and tummy as the
vet sent him on his final journey. I told him that I would miss him,
even though I hardly knew him. And I cried. Harder than I have every
cried for any of the others. Maybe because I knew the others had been
shown love and caring by me, because they all knew that I wanted to
protect and keep them warm. He didn't know those things from me.

It was a long, hard ride in, with worry. It was a long, desperately
sad ride home, without him. My spirit is broken, I can do no more.

Smokie Darling (Annie)


Oh how sad. Bless you for your act of love and mercy.


--
Theresa and Dante

Stinky Forever: http://pets.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh

On May 15, 3:28*pm, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:
On May 15, 1:19*pm, wrote:

On May 15, 12:09*pm, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:

It was a long, hard ride in, with worry. *It was a long, desperately
sad ride home, without him. *My spirit is broken, I can do no more.

I'm bawling my eyes out here

Me too. *I had to write it down. *He deserved more.

You gave what you could. You were his angel, In the sense of Lucinda
Williams' lyrics in "Lake Charles," "Did an angel whisper in your
ear.

He is in the Summerlands, without pain or fear or hunger. Our purrs
for his journey and for your heart.

--
Will in New Haven
Merry meet and merry part and merry meet again
And hold you close and take away your fear In those long last moments?"

sending hugs and purrs for those left behind, and have lit a candle
for his journey.

on a personal note - damn this really brought back the recent loss of
gray kitty, who also missed out on the love of a good home.

On Fri, 15 May 2009 12:09:32 -0700 (PDT), "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:

Actually, he wasn't a baby. I have no idea how old he was. I tried
to catch him, all winter. Tried to show him he could trust me. He
had begun to allow me to get near, but not close. He ate after
sundown, because he was terrified of some of the other Tom cats
around.

My neighbor, who speaks nearly no English, came to me this morning.
She tried to tell me there was a sick cat at her house. I understood
'gato', but not much else. Her son came over and said that there was
a cat, he seemed very ill, and no one would come and get him. I went
over, and there was my Baby Boy Bengal (who I called Bengi because I
could never get close enough to see if he was a boy or a girl). He
was breathing, but just lying there.

I picked him up. This tiny thing (he was probably 18 months old) that
had been such a full bodied cat, less than 3 months ago. He'd been so
cared for, I thought maybe his slaves had found him, when I stopped
seeing him around. He couldn't have weighed 4 pounds now. I could
feel his little bones, and he obviously had a respiratory thing.

I called my own TED, and asked if I could bring him in. Thinking, URI
and some dehydration, and I'd have the Bengal cat I've been wanting.
I wrapped him in a clean, soft towel, and off to the vet we went. Me
crying, asking *whoever* to please protect the little one, to not take
two from me, within three weeks.

We waited in the room for her to finish her surgery. I was given a
bowl of water, and a little 'dropper', to see if he'd (we realized he
was intact) drink water. He would. Everytime I moved my hands away,
he'd crawl over to lie on my left hand, while I droppered water into
his mouth, with my right.

He had the eyes of my Tuppence (RB 05). He looked so tired. I knew,
even then. I hoped, I cried, I begged him to be alright. I begged
him to just have an infection that I could treat. I told him that I
would take care of him, and I'd treat him the way he appeared to
deserve.

The vet came in. She told me that he was very anemic (his gums were
nearly white). She said it's a kindness to let him go. I said,
please do blood work. I want to know if it's beyond help before I
decide to send him on his way. She did as I asked.

I sat with him, and talked to him, told him how beautiful he was, how
much I would love him, if only he would be alright, so I could take
him home. The vet came back. Bad news. His red cells were so low,
that even an infusion would probably not save him. His clotting
factor was non-existent (dont' remember what she said it was). She
said, again, it's a kindness to let him go.

We sat for a time. I told him what a good boy he'd been. I told him
how I looked for him everyday, because he was so handsome. I told him
that I wanted to pet him from the moment I first laid eyes on him. I
pet him, and I held him close to me. When the vet came back in, I
told her we were ready.

As she shaved his leg, I told him that Tuppence, Nicodemus, Madison,
and Piewackett (to name a few) would be waiting for him. I told him
to look for Pretty Face and Chief and Sam and Snuggums and Pookie and
Big Mouth and too many other ferals and strays to recall. I told him
that I would be looking for him, when it was my turn to walk that
way. I asked him if he saw Little Foot to tell him that I tried very
hard to protect him, and I was so sorry I hadn't, but that I loved
him.

I held his head, off the cold steel table, so that he wouldn't have
some that hard as his last memory. I stroke his back and tummy as the
vet sent him on his final journey. I told him that I would miss him,
even though I hardly knew him. And I cried. Harder than I have every
cried for any of the others. Maybe because I knew the others had been
shown love and caring by me, because they all knew that I wanted to
protect and keep them warm. He didn't know those things from me.

It was a long, hard ride in, with worry. It was a long, desperately
sad ride home, without him. My spirit is broken, I can do no more.

Smokie Darling (Annie)

On May 15, 12:09*pm, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:
Actually, he wasn't a baby. *I have no idea how old he was. *I tried
to catch him, all winter. *Tried to show him he could trust me. *He
had begun to allow me to get near, but not close. *He ate after
sundown, because he was terrified of some of the other Tom cats
around.

My neighbor, who speaks nearly no English, came to me this morning.
She tried to tell me there was a sick cat at her house. *I understood
'gato', but not much else. *Her son came over and said that there was
a cat, he seemed very ill, and no one would come and get him. *I went
over, and there was my Baby Boy Bengal (who I called Bengi because I
could never get close enough to see if he was a boy or a girl). *He
was breathing, but just lying there.

I picked him up. *This tiny thing (he was probably 18 months old) that
had been such a full bodied cat, less than 3 months ago. *He'd been so
cared for, I thought maybe his slaves had found him, when I stopped
seeing him around. *He couldn't have weighed 4 pounds now. *I could
feel his little bones, and he obviously had a respiratory thing.

I called my own TED, and asked if I could bring him in. *Thinking, URI
and some dehydration, and I'd have the Bengal cat I've been wanting.
I wrapped him in a clean, soft towel, and off to the vet we went. *Me
crying, asking *whoever* to please protect the little one, to not take
two from me, within three weeks.

We waited in the room for her to finish her surgery. *I was given a
bowl of water, and a little 'dropper', to see if he'd (we realized he
was intact) drink water. *He would. *Everytime I moved my hands away,
he'd crawl over to lie on my left hand, while I droppered water into
his mouth, with my right.

He had the eyes of my Tuppence (RB 05). *He looked so tired. *I knew,
even then. *I hoped, I cried, I begged him to be alright. *I begged
him to just have an infection that I could treat. *I told him that I
would take care of him, and I'd treat him the way he appeared to
deserve.

The vet came in. *She told me that he was very anemic (his gums were
nearly white). *She said it's a kindness to let him go. *I said,
please do blood work. *I want to know if it's beyond help before I
decide to send him on his way. *She did as I asked.

I sat with him, and talked to him, told him how beautiful he was, how
much I would love him, if only he would be alright, so I could take
him home. *The vet came back. *Bad news. *His red cells were so low,
that even an infusion would probably not save him. *His clotting
factor was non-existent (dont' remember what she said it was). *She
said, again, it's a kindness to let him go.

We sat for a time. *I told him what a good boy he'd been. *I told him
how I looked for him everyday, because he was so handsome. *I told him
that I wanted to pet him from the moment I first laid eyes on him. *I
pet him, and I held him close to me. *When the vet came back in, I
told her we were ready.

As she shaved his leg, I told him that Tuppence, Nicodemus, Madison,
and Piewackett (to name a few) would be waiting for him. *I told him
to look for Pretty Face and Chief and Sam and Snuggums and Pookie and
Big Mouth and too many other ferals and strays to recall. *I told him
that I would be looking for him, when it was my turn to walk that
way. *I asked him if he saw Little Foot to tell him that I tried very
hard to protect him, and I was so sorry I hadn't, but that I loved
him.

I held his head, off the cold steel table, so that he wouldn't have
some that hard as his last memory. *I stroke his back and tummy as the
vet sent him on his final journey. *I told him that I would miss him,
even though I hardly knew him. *And I cried. *Harder than I have every
cried for any of the others. *Maybe because I knew the others had been
shown love and caring by me, because they all knew that I wanted to
protect and keep them warm. *He didn't know those things from me.

It was a long, hard ride in, with worry. *It was a long, desperately
sad ride home, without him. *My spirit is broken, I can do no more.

Smokie Darling (Annie)

I'm so sorry. It's so kind of you to have accompanied him toward his
last journey here. So sweet that he wanted your hand on him. So
touching that he did know you loved him.

I feed ferals, too, and worry about them so much. It's one of the
many risks they face in their lives, getting sick and no one knowing
or helping them. But you did help him--it's so much better he went the
way he did than suffering even longer, alone. He really did know you
loved him and he loved you and his last hours on earth were not alone.

Candace

On May 15, 6:49*pm, wrote:
On May 15, 7:34*pm, wrote:



On May 15, 3:48*pm, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:

On May 15, 3:31*pm, wrote:

On May 15, 1:09*pm, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:

Actually, he wasn't a baby. *I have no idea how old he was. *I tried
to catch him, all winter. *Tried to show him he could trust me. *He
had begun to allow me to get near, but not close. *He ate after
sundown, because he was terrified of some of the other Tom cats
around.

My neighbor, who speaks nearly no English, came to me this morning.
She tried to tell me there was a sick cat at her house. *I understood
'gato', but not much else. *Her son came over and said that there was
a cat, he seemed very ill, and no one would come and get him. *I went
over, and there was my Baby Boy Bengal (who I called Bengi because I
could never get close enough to see if he was a boy or a girl). *He
was breathing, but just lying there.

I picked him up. *This tiny thing (he was probably 18 months old) that
had been such a full bodied cat, less than 3 months ago. *He'd been so
cared for, I thought maybe his slaves had found him, when I stopped
seeing him around. *He couldn't have weighed 4 pounds now. *I could
feel his little bones, and he obviously had a respiratory thing.

I called my own TED, and asked if I could bring him in. *Thinking, URI
and some dehydration, and I'd have the Bengal cat I've been wanting.
I wrapped him in a clean, soft towel, and off to the vet we went. *Me
crying, asking *whoever* to please protect the little one, to not take
two from me, within three weeks.

We waited in the room for her to finish her surgery. *I was given a
bowl of water, and a little 'dropper', to see if he'd (we realized he
was intact) drink water. *He would. *Everytime I moved my hands away,
he'd crawl over to lie on my left hand, while I droppered water into
his mouth, with my right.

He had the eyes of my Tuppence (RB 05). *He looked so tired. *I knew,
even then. *I hoped, I cried, I begged him to be alright. *I begged
him to just have an infection that I could treat. *I told him that I
would take care of him, and I'd treat him the way he appeared to
deserve.

The vet came in. *She told me that he was very anemic (his gums were
nearly white). *She said it's a kindness to let him go. *I said,
please do blood work. *I want to know if it's beyond help before I
decide to send him on his way. *She did as I asked.

I sat with him, and talked to him, told him how beautiful he was, how
much I would love him, if only he would be alright, so I could take
him home. *The vet came back. *Bad news. *His red cells were so low,
that even an infusion would probably not save him. *His clotting
factor was non-existent (dont' remember what she said it was). *She
said, again, it's a kindness to let him go.

We sat for a time. *I told him what a good boy he'd been. *I told him
how I looked for him everyday, because he was so handsome. *I told him
that I wanted to pet him from the moment I first laid eyes on him.. *I
pet him, and I held him close to me. *When the vet came back in, I
told her we were ready.

As she shaved his leg, I told him that Tuppence, Nicodemus, Madison,
and Piewackett (to name a few) would be waiting for him. *I told him
to look for Pretty Face and Chief and Sam and Snuggums and Pookie and
Big Mouth and too many other ferals and strays to recall. *I told him
that I would be looking for him, when it was my turn to walk that
way. *I asked him if he saw Little Foot to tell him that I tried very
hard to protect him, and I was so sorry I hadn't, but that I loved
him.

I held his head, off the cold steel table, so that he wouldn't have
some that hard as his last memory. *I stroke his back and tummy as the
vet sent him on his final journey. *I told him that I would miss him,
even though I hardly knew him. *And I cried. *Harder than I have every
cried for any of the others. *Maybe because I knew the others had been
shown love and caring by me, because they all knew that I wanted to
protect and keep them warm. *He didn't know those things from me.

It was a long, hard ride in, with worry. *It was a long, desperately
sad ride home, without him. *My spirit is broken, I can do no more.

Smokie Darling (Annie)

I am so sorry. You were his Angel to lead him to the RB and his going
there
was beyond your control. At present am under heavy pressure from my
medical providers to correct (within my power) bad blood test results,
so
unable to tip a shot west to you....but here's a "virtual" Drambuie
shot (the
only form in which I can stand Scotch, LOL) and another for you, to
toast
you for your loving kindness action of mercy for a friendless needy
cat.
MileHigh salute and regards from hopitus, and purrs as well.

Thank you, I'll take your shot (Drambuie) and up the ante with some
Glenfiddich (18). *I am a scotch drinker.

If you can tolerate something out of the "ragweed" family, you can try
to take some Milk Thistle. *If your blood work involves liver enzymes,
the MT will help level those out for you.

Drambuie... *mixed with what makes a rusty nail? *I can't remember.