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Shelburne Free Press https://shelburnefreepress.ca/?p=2965 Export date: Sun Nov 24 11:26:06 2024 / +0000 GMT |
His name is James Dear editor: Here are some things you don't know but you really need to: His name is James. He is 4 years old. He came home at 4 months old, after an appointment for work fatefully brought me to him. He was to be euthanized that day, for having a deformity in his chest that caused his sternum to grow in towards his heart instead of out. I met him and brought him home, this black ball of fear, the same day. We slowly nursed him to his full potential and he grew into a big, black, handsome, healthy, outgoing, dog-like cat. When he was one year old, he had his turn to nurse another kitten to health, helping me raise a kitten with a cleft palate from hours old until just this past Friday. He was best friends with my Bullmastiff, learned how to bring my older, timid cat out of her shell, and dealt with the new terrier like a champ. He could fetch, play tag, and hide and seek. He liked to steal the dogs' treats. He loved ice cream and a good catnip fix. He knew what cupboard we kept what in, and could occasionally be found in those cupboards. He would pat my face with his paw when I was sad, or even to just be nice. He had the loudest purr I've ever heard, and he almost never stopped. He spooned the dogs and kept all of the pets well groomed. I could write on and on about him and his quirky ways, like how he wasn't allowed to sleep in my bed because he couldn't keep still or stop purring (although with impeccable timing, he would silently pounce onto the bed from his hiding place, only after the door was shut, the lights were out, and all were settled in), but it would not come close to fully describing him or his place in our home. When we lived in Orangeville, he ventured outside a few times to climb the trees or hang out with the dogs. We've lived in Shelburne for two years and he was not really interested in being outside, although I thought it would have been safer. He scooted out the door a few times, but noticed where he was and was right back in. He is not an outdoor cat. On Thursday, Aug 1, he scooted out the door at night, but he wasn't right back in this time. He was gone. We looked and looked for him – I had a bad feeling this time. He usually came when he was called, talking back the whole time. My great neighbours were kind to help us look for James as well. On Friday, August 2 between 1 – 2 p.m., you hit James with your car. He was just a few doors away, on his way home. He did not die right away. You left him in the middle of a residential road, feet away from a stop sign, alone, to die. I found him very soon (I hope) after. I scooped up his poor, broken body and held him while he died. I felt his heart stop beating. You were able to drive away, leaving him carelessly, to carry on with your day. I was left with a guilty broken heart. If I'd only gone that way 5 minutes earlier. If I'd only stayed out the night before. If you weren't in such a hurry. If you were only paying attention. You know that you hit him, yet you chose to drive away. He was not “just a cat.” You need to know that you have ripped away a best friend, a baby-sitter, a muchloved pet, and so much more from his family. It was irresponsible, careless, cruel, avoidable, and I am not ok. Yet I am the one who is dealing with this, as you carry on. Maybe you do care, but I doubt it. Heather Doig, Shelburne |
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Post date: 2013-08-08 11:12:12 Post date GMT: 2013-08-08 15:12:12 Post modified date: 2013-08-15 23:31:02 Post modified date GMT: 2013-08-16 03:31:02 |
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