Between last week and now, the volunteers received an email stating that Piggy had been taken to the vet for an examination. Some of the long-term volunteers had noticed that Piggy seemed a bit underweight and had been behaving strangely of late. I'm sorry to say that I hadn't noticed. Unlike the other cats, Piggy almost always met me on the trail and ate with as much gusto as she could manage. She'd even try to horn in on the other cats as they ate. Occasionally, Piggy'd only lick the fluid from the food tin, leaving the meaty bits behind. I naively thought that that meant she had a discerning palate. 'Maybe she doesn't like chicken pate', I said to myself the one time she'd not eaten much. I now know her lack of enthusiasm must have been because she was suffering from liver failure. So as not to prolong her suffering, the vet opted to euthanize Piggy. She spent her last days on Earth being doted on at the house of a volunteer. Her new-found indoor routine consisted of sleeping in a cushy kitty bed and receiving belly rubs & cheek scratches before finally being sent off to the Great Sandbox in the Sky.
After today's cleaning sans Piggy's company, I went in search of the other cats. Walking along the water, I almost stumbled right over Tommy, causing him to freak out a bit. The color of the rocks he sits on, Tommy is quite difficult to spot. Almost like the Cheshire Cat's grin, a pair of yellow eyes was the first thing I noticed before the rest of Tommy's body came into focus. I was able to put some wet food out on a rock about three feet from him before backing away slowly, so as not to cause him to scurry away. At about a 15 foot distance, I watched as Tommy eventually lost interest in me, and, after sniffing the air a few times, cautiously approached his fare. He ate and ate, pausing periodically to wash his face.
|See you next time, buddy.|