"To love would be an awfully big adventure." — J.M. Barrie
King passed away last Sunday at the vets. Others were trying valiantly to help me find a home for him in the UK with another FIV+ cat, or no cat at all, but the process was too slow, involving more tests, money raising, and middle men. I think he would have been better off in a home, but I can't say how much longer he would have lived; I don't know. I am not very fond of leaving a sick cat at the vets to overnight and often argue with them about it. But I have lost too many cats that way. I know of no vet here that has an overnight staff.
I prefer to take them in and out as needed, and even if they are on a drip to bring them home. There is nothing like love to help a sick cat, there is no medicine in the world that can compare. Even if the cat will die anyway, at least you know he wasn't alone.
But with King I had to weigh the risks and it didn't seem prudent to me to keep him here amongst all the other cats, even if I kept him in a carrier. I just don't have the facilities for isolating cats. I would like to have them one day, though.
I will always remember the day I first saw him, the way he walked up to me so majestically and eyed me, and he was so regal in his demeanor I gasped. I think back now on how at one point I noticed he was unusually docile for a Tom when the females were in season, and how I had wondered if he were losing weight. It is possible he was starting to get sick then; it is possible that made it easier for him to be hit by the car. These are things I will never know though.
One thing to remember about Cyprus if you ever come here is it is a bit of a never never land. Bad news is not often communicated. If you have cancer for instance, the doctors may tell your family and not tell you. And your family might not tell you. There is a need here for people to smooth things over, to say everything is going to be OK, even when it is not. I don't agree with this but it is the culture I have had to adapt to living in. I remember reading A Very Easy Death in college. I was horrified. To not tell someone the truth, or to minimize a grim prognosis, no matter how difficult, is to take away their self-determination. It's a robbery of sorts, and it violates our most basic God given freedom to choose our lives. Perhaps this is why God hates lies so much.
I will always remember the questioning way King looked at me and how much he enjoyed his last meal at the park. Godspeed King. I love you and thank you.
"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it."
— J.M. Barrie