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

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:

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

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs

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.

On May 15, 12:28*pm, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:


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

At least at the end he had someone to stroke him and hold him once and
a lot of strays don;t get that so thank you for doing right by him (or
her)

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs (I can always say it's hay fever right
now)

On May 15, 1:35*pm, wrote:
On May 15, 12:28*pm, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:



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

At least at the end he had someone to stroke him and hold him once and
a lot of strays don;t get that so thank you for doing right by him (or
her)

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs (I can always say it's hay fever right
now)

Benji was a boy. We did discover that. I'd have named him better,
but didn't have time.

On May 15, 12:57*pm, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:


Benji was a boy. *We did discover that. *I'd have named him better,
but didn't have time.

Who cares what you called him? I refer to my current furry flatmates
as anything from "Cutie" (Dunzi she' looks very cute right now which
makes me wonder what she has done that she doesn't want me to find out
about) to "Conky" (Sarsi did have a big nose as a kitten) to "you
little f***er" or "Ba**rd cat" or "Sweetie" or ~"Daw-dees little
girlie" (Sarsi) or "Meownies little angel (also Sarsi for some reason)

You were there for him when he needed someone- names at that time are
not that important

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs

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 you had to go through that, at least Bengi knew love at the
end. I have lit a candle for him.
http://www.gratefulness.org/candles/...l=eng&gi=Bengi
--
Adrian (Owned by Snoopy, Bagheera & Shadow)
Cats leave pawprints on your heart
http://community.webshots.com/user/clowderuk

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)



"....Rise up slowly, Angel...." It's hard to let you go. MLB

In article
,
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.

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)

Bless you for doing the right thing by him. He knew love at the end.
Purrs for your breaking heart.

John, servant to their Imperial SIamese Majesties, Rhia and Amy.

On May 15, 3:03*pm, "Adrian" wrote:
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 you had to go through that, at least Bengi knew love at the
end. I have lit a candle for him.http://www.gratefulness.org/candles/...l=eng&gi=Bengi
--
Adrian (Owned by Snoopy, Bagheera & Shadow)
Cats leave pawprints on your hearthttp://community.webshots.com/user/clowderuk

Thank you, so much. I truly appreciate it.