This is Daisy, a rescue cat we adopted in 2005/2006. My sister found her in a very bad state while working in London one evening and took her to a local RSPCA rescue centre. As you can see from the photo the outcome was the amputation of her rear right leg, but as with most cats she learned to overcome this and lived many happy years with us and our other cats.
On Tuesday evening we heard meowing from the back of the garden and found her severely injured. My mother and I rushed her to a local vet where they spent the evening trying to stabilise her from what they described as critical condition. The prognosis was not a hopeful one, but she was given the best care available at the time.
The damage was this time to her back left leg. Every bone in the leg had been broken in multiple places, with the vet assuming it was from a collision with a car. It's a miracle Daisy had managed to drag herself as far as she had to make it home, using her front paws only. If she'd not previously had an amputation then this was the logical course of action. Sadly due to her history the vet placed a less than 50% chance of recovery from attempting to repair her remaining leg, with months of surgery involved.
Noone wanted to put her through any more pain than she'd already been in and the decision was agreed to put our little lady to sleep. We returned to the vet to see her later in the evening and be with her during her final moments. It felt at the time as if she knew her time had come, and she rested calmly despite the pain she was clearly in, as we sat with her at the end.
After she joined our family Daisy seemed to take quite some time to adjust. It was obvious she'd been abused by her previous owners and she was distrusting and cautious around everyone. Everyone except me, for reasons I'll never know. She'd run and hide from my family, guests, the other cats, anything that moved. However if she even caught a glimpse of me she'd come running to me, purring, chirping and happy.
While she relaxed around my family over the following years she still stayed particular to me. Whenever my mother was calling the cats in for the evening, Daisy would quite often sit just out of reach, unmoving. Food, treats, calls, she'd ignore them all. All it would take is one call from me and she'd come running in, every time.
She also loved the rain, and would deliberately run out into it to get soaking wet. This was down to me again, I realised fairly late on. During her earlier days with us when she was still adjusting to her 'tripod' way of life she found it difficult to wash her torso, she'd always roll over and fail. I used to pick her up and wrap her in a towel, drying her off, which of course lead to a cuddle and purring. After a few such occurances, she'd go out of her way to get wet, just so I'd pick her up wrapped in a towel!
I've lost pets before, but it was a particularly close bond with this little lady. It's been one hell of a week adjusting to her not being around, and I've simply had no energy to keep up with the gym or the eating this week. Drained, both physically and emotionally.
Shall pick up where I left off soon enough.
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