I love cats. Adore them. I am surrounded by them everywhere I go, though we no longer have one ourselves since my wee lad died last year. We see Fluffy (name changed to protect the innocent...) who lives a couple of houses down the road and stops in almost daily for a visit. My Aunt has 4 cats, S has 4 cats, J has Sparky the adorable ball of fluff, Dad has his black & white Butler, My sister has her little black beauty, and the list goes on. I love each and every one of them and I wish I could have 17 of my own!
I'm scared to get another one though. I'm too much of a softie, and it feels like everything is reminding me why NOT to get a cat at the moment.
Last Sunday we discovered one of S's cats had an inch long gash in her front underarm area, a little gash at her back legs (where on earth did she get these from?!), and lots of little puncture wounds, probably from a cat fight. Rushed to the vet quick-smart. Poor baby had to stay in overnight, and returned home with an Elizabethan collar to stop her picking at her stitches. Seems she also picked up a cold at some stage, the last thing she needs while she's already feeling sore & sad.
She's looking brighter, but still sniffling, still a bit sore, and still not eating as much as usual. Wont be long though, and the vet's bill will be the only thing to remind us all of what she's been through (and the horrible scar, no doubt).
Yesterday I get a call from J, his adorable Sparky-puss has been hit by a car. Another beautiful babe rushed off to the vet for an overnight stay. More after hours vets bills, another worried family as their little lad goes through recovery time.
I feel all of this ... the worry, the pain of knowing your baby is hurt, wanting to wrap them in cotton wool and snuggle them all day every day. I feel too much of other peoples' (and animals) pain, I know that but I can't seem to stop doing it.
At this point, I think we should put off having our own cats. I couldn't handle anything that might happen to them.