Cats don't willingly let cows get close enough to sniff at them; she should have run off.
Something was wrong.
When Penny finally emptied her bottle, I went to check. I was almost afraid to reach out toward Suzie, because an animal in pain is liable to lash out at anything. She attempted to get up, but couldn't. I did finally reach down and stroke her head a couple of times, but she was in so much pain that I don't think she cared one way or the other.
What to do: She had, at the least, a broken leg. If we took her to the vet there would be X-rays and a cast and lots of money spent. We haven't even received the largest of Cliff's hospital bills yet. I said a prayer and knew what had to happen.
I came in the house and woke Cliff up. He doesn't like to get up fast. He would rather not do anything besides drink coffee for an hour or two after he's awake, but I said, "I have a favor to ask. I need you to get a gun and go shoot a cat as soon as you can possibly get around. She is suffering, and I can't stand it. You won't have any trouble doing it, because she can't even walk."
He threw off the covers, and was out the door in perhaps ten minutes, which is fast for a guy who can't wake up easily and has arthritis slowing him down first thing in the morning.
The deed is done. I cried. Me, the person who doesn't even care that much about cats. I'm tearing up as I type this.
Cliff said her back was broken, so the prognosis wouldn't have been good anyhow. We figure a horse or cow stepped on her.
Life, and death, on the farm.
|Suzie, playing with her brother Jake|