The Story of Petey... Part Two
Caught in between the territorial war of two tomcats and losing my heart to both in the process...
I had become accustomed to my daily routine with Petey. It was a joy to see him on the other side of my window, patiently waiting for his food and pets each day. I felt honored to be his chosen person. But soon another tomcat began showing up and the territorial battles began. Those loud, drawn out caterwauling war cries were unpleasant enough, but to see them actually go at it was frightening. One time they ended up in a literal furfluffle! Picture a giant blurry ball of cat fists and flying fur (like in the cartoons) and you've got a furfluffle. Imagine my horror when their violent furfluffle-scuffle sent them flying right off the roof! Fortunately it was only one level, but still! I wondered if that was how some of Petey's teeth got broken; I'll never know.
So Brutus took over the homemade cathouse made from a plastic storage bin which we had on top of a side table just outside our kitchen window. He was in that thing night and day, rain or shine.
Petey would still show up from time to time and it wouldn't take long before the two of them were going at it. I always thought Brutus was the aggressor until I witnessed Petey chase after him as he was leaving! I was shocked! I couldn't understand his instigating such violence because Brutus was clearly the stronger fighter which led to many an injury for my poor Petey boy; the backs of his ears were so raw and bloody. I guess that big fat tomcat head of his was just so full of testosterone he couldn’t help his poor self! Other than carefully patting down his wounds with a clean, wet cloth, there wasn't much else I could do for him; I felt so helpless. Eventually Petey's visits became quite rare due to Brutus's territorial wins. Tomcat culture within the animal kingdom is nasty business.
I'm sure you caught by now that I named this new brute of a cat Brutus, but I had no choice... He broke me. I tried everything to get him to go away; I yelled, I used a spray bottle set to stream... nothing worked! Not even a flinch... he'd just sit there with a deadpan stare as if to say, "You're dumb." I soon relented to his feline powers but, I must confess, I liked the challenge he posed. So, instead of fighting his stubbornness, I fell in love. Makes sense, right?
I thought that maybe a bigger space would appeal to Petey so we revamped our indoor kitty motel to be much larger (and now refer to it as the "Stray Haven"). But, after all the fuss, only Brutus would go inside. After I noticed he'd been sleeping in there for days, I realized he was sick... so sick, in fact, that I was able to syringe-feed this mean ol' cat chicken broth. I was nervous about attempting this (knowing he could bite me), but it was all I could think to do for him and I knew he needed fluids. He was so lethargic, I don't think he really had any fight left in him to protest anyway, and he probably knew I was trying to help. I thought he might die, but after some time he seemed to get better and soon returned back to his grumpy old self.
I had noticed for some time that he was having trouble chewing… something to do with his jaw. So I began blending his canned kitty paté with chicken broth so he could lick it up. His consistent, daily meals got us to a place in our relationship where I could gently stroke the bridge of his nose without him attacking me. He would softly make deep, guttural groans as I loved on him, a love of which I don't think he'd ever received in his entire life. So Brutus may have broken me, but I suppose I broke him, too. And now, instead of my sweet Petey, it was Brutus who would be waiting outside my window for daily food and pets.
Despite money issues, I brought Brutus to my vet. I couldn't believe I was able to get him into a crate unscathed, but I did it! That just showed me how much this cat actually trusted me. It was a bit difficult, but nothing like the challenge he posed to the veterinarian! This vet couldn't get near him to conduct an examination. He kicked all of us out of the exam room and shut the door, and that’s when the sounds of utter mayhem ensued...
BING... BANG... RRRROW!... BOOM!
Don't know how he managed to get him back inside the crate, but needless to say, I wasn't charged for a visit that day.
Unsure of what to do next, I went online looking for some sort of service that could help. I soon came across a local woman who specialized in TNR (trap, neuter, and release). Talk about Crazy Cat Lady! She definitely fits the bill. But I digress...
I contacted this woman and she agreed to help Brutus with medical care and neutering. I cried out with relief when she said she had the funds to pay for it all. I decided I was going to adopt him after he got the proper care and allow him to continue living in the "Stray Haven." So I brought him to this cat lady’s house the night before in order for her to take him to a veterinarian the following morning (fortunately for them, they were very familiar with how to handle feral cats!)
But while Brutus was still under anesthesia, she called me at work to inform me of how sick he actually was. His jaw was riddled with tumors (which is why his tongue was always sticking out) and he was positive for FIV AND FeLV... a double whammy.
I was told there was really nothing that could be done for him, at this point. The vet was amazed at how good a shape he was in considering how low his red blood cell count was, though. (I believe it was due to all the soupy meals, love, and TLC I gave him. Oh, and lots of praying over him, too.) Considering how good cats are at hiding their pain, I'm sure he was in quite a bit of it, and he clearly wasn't going to live for much longer... Allowing him back outside in such a diseased and highly contagious state would be cruel and irresponsible. With no other options and them needing an answer from me right then and there, I agreed that letting him go was the right thing to do.
I grieved hard for this cat. He had captured my heart and now it was heavy, but it just wasn't meant to be.
And then...literally the VERY NEXT DAY...
Guess who showed up inside the Stray Haven injured? That's right... Petey! He was babying one of his legs and I could see that something had bit him. He needed help and knew where to go, but if Brutus had still been around he probably wouldn't have been able to come to me!
I suppose things worked out just the way they needed to. Brutus got the love and care he needed and deserved at the end of his life and then Petey was able to get the love and care he needed and deserved. That woman was a Godsend, I swear. Thank God for crazy cat ladies! Soon enough Petey was at the very same vet getting all patched up and neutered... free of charge.
But then… once again…
while Petey was under anesthesia, I got that familiar call requiring another on-the-spot-decision...
Poor puddies! Brutus there was a very handsome black cat despite his terrible health problems and Petey just happens to look a great deal like my own handsome (but neutered!) boy too.