I cut and pasted this from the other forum I belong to, not because I'm too lazy to type it all out again, but because I just couldn't bear crying again. This probably belongs in the "Feral & Rescue Cats" section, but I know this section gets more readership. BTW,the title of my post refers to this: Sweet Baby.

Anyway...on to my story. Some of you may remember Spuddie and Munchie, the tortie twins who adopted us for two and a half days Spuddie and Munchie... and my farewell A farewell to Spuddie and Munchie. Well, after that experience, I had vowed to NEVER call that shelter again. But something happened that changed my mind. This is Mr. Bond's story...

Early Thursday evening, David needed to go to the grocery store so he opened the back door to go into the garage. He and I were talking and we both heard a husky "MEOW". We both looked down to see if it was one of our cats. We didn't see anything, so we kept talking...then we heard it again. Sitting on the other side of the screen door was a black and white, possibly male, cat. David went out the door to go to the car and was closing the door behind him so that the cat wouldn't come in. I grabbed the door and followed David outside because I wanted to get a better look at the cat. You know how when you watch programs like "Animal Cops", "Animal Presinct", and "Animal Heros" on Animal Planet and there's always a cat/dog that is in horrific condition and you think to yourself, "Oh, that poor baby?" Trust me, seeing it in person is much, much worse than seeing it on TV. This cat was a walking skeleton. I literally could see his ribs and his hip bones were jutting out. His left ear had a tiny bit missing (but that may have been a notch from being neutered), his lower jaw was horribly infected and the poor thing smelled awful. When he saw me, he ran to me and immediately starting rubbing the top of his head along my legs and weaving in and out of them. I had my oldest son get a bowl of food and a bowl of water for Mr. Bond, James Bond. (as I named him since he was a tuxie and he looked like he had once been a beautiful boy). I had them close the back door because I didn't want my cats to become curious and try to come outside with him. My oldest was taking a bit long with getting the food and water so I knocked on the back door, with my new shadow, Mr.Bond (or JB), following me. When the door was opened, JB tried to go inside. So I gently grabbed JB and got him before he could go completely in the house, while telling my other two sons to go get the cordless phone.

I had made the decision to call the shelter so that Animal Control could come pick up Mr. Bond. He was obviously too sick for me to take care of and I just couldn't subject my cats to what Mr. Bond had. They wanted me to put him in a box or a carrier. I was going to try and have him follow me to the front of the townhouse so that he could be on our patio, but my oldest suggested just leaving Mr. Bond where he was and have the Animal Control officer come to our garage. So while waiting for the ACO, I had one of the boys get me a bowl of warm, soapy water so that I could clean out our carrier and two old, yet clean and dry, towels...one to dry off the carrier and the other to put in the bottom of the carrier. I lured Mr. Bond into the carrier with the bowl of food and put the carrier back together. When the ACO arrived, I carried the carrier out to her truck. If I hadn't seen Mr. Bond climb into the carrier myself, I would not have believed that there was anything in it. That's how light the carrier was with Mr. Bond in it.

As I was walking to the ACO's truck, I started to cry. I knew I was doing the right thing for him. As much as I would have loved to have nursed him back to health, I don't know what he had. He was coughing while he was eating and his poor nose was covered in cat food, so whatever was causing the infection in his lower jaw was affecting his ability to eat, though he sure did try...poor thing. As I put the carrier in her truck, I asked her what his chances were of being PTS. She told me that it would depend on what the vet at the shelter found. If Mr. Bond's illness and infection were treatable, they'd nurse him back to health, otherwise...well, you know. I asked her if I could call and check up on him so she gave me a control number to reference to when I called.

On Friday, I called the shelter to check up on sweet Mr. Bond. They couldn't find him. The number the ACO gave me referenced a pit bull that had been picked up in my complex earlier on Thursday. Carol, the lady I spoke with, took my phone number and told me that she'd call me back as soon as she found Mr. Bond. She called me to tell me that the control number was showing that a pit bull had been brought in, but not a cat. She then told me that she'd call me as soon as she found out where Mr. Bond was...I never heard from her again. So, on Monday, I'll be calling the shelter again and seeing if Mr. Bond was ever found in the system. I'm hoping that Mr. Bond can be treated and adopted out. He was so sweet and loving. But I'm being realistic. I know the chances are that he's probably too sick and that he'll be (if he hasn't been already) PTS.

I know one thing...if Tiger ever does come back, I'm taking him in. I don't care what David says. I'm tired of falling in love with cats and then losing them because either he doesn't want anymore or because they're too sick. I'm not gonna lose Tiger again.

***I called the shelter on Saturday...Mr. Bond had been PTS...he had a very bad case of mange ), but it still doesn't make it any easier, you know? And he definitely knew love. I told him I loved him as I stroked the top of his head thru the carrier bars and I think he knew it, too. I take comfort in knowing that he's whole and completely heatlhy now that he's crossed the Rainbow Bridge.