RIP Mabel, August 2021-15th July 2023
Discussion
Forgive maybe a bit of a self-indulgent post but I think it will help me to put some feelings into words.
We rescued Mabel just before Christmas 2021 from an RSPCA shelter when she was about 4 months old. She had been found under a car in Edgeware. She had had a lot of enquiries - she was beautiful - but they chose us to look after her.
She was a feisty little girl, having not had discipline/direction from an earlier age I suppose, and she injected some chaos into our home of me, my wife and our two older cats.
This is the first photo I have of her, the day after we brought her home:
She absolutely loved being outside, adventuring, burning off her energy and she soon became a character on the estate. Lots knew her name, mainly because I would go out every night to call her and she would come running up to me from one place or another, squeaking her little meow as she did. When she got to me she would always position herself for me to scoop her up onto my forearm where she would be carried home.
She settled really well with our other two over 18 months - very different in character and a thorn in their sides at times - but they would often be curled up in-sync on the bed together or out in the garden keeping an eye on each other.
My wife always referred to her as a “daddy’s girl” and we did have a great little bond. One thing that has only just hit me this morning is how different working from home will now be. No matter how bad a day I would be having I could always go and see her and fuss her for a bit to cheer me up. It is only on thinking back that I realise that every time I would do this I would have a big smile across my face, excited to go and see her. Excited to just go and see the cat for the fifth time that day; says it all doesn’t it!
These are a few of my favourite photos of her before I fast forward to now:
So Friday morning she didn’t come in for breakfast - not particularly unusual. However, it got to lunchtime and it was quite heavily raining and I was sure that she should have come back by now.
I’ll spare the full details but basically my sixth sense kicked in and I became obsessed with finding her, calling my wife home to help. Crawling through mud, water and bramble we eventually found her, sodden wet and with a nasty wound at her tail/rear end (don’t want to be graphic but basically tail severed, hanging by a bit of skin, and a big open wound where the muscle had been torn away).
We rushed her to the vets and they advised transfer to a nearby specialist to do an operation. This was planned for Saturday morning. We swung by the vets on Saturday morning, just to see how she had been the night before the op, hopes high that she would come back to us the same little - albeit tail-less - sod.
You know when you can tell straight away the news is not good? The tone of voice and look on the face? We went into the consultation room and had the situation explained. Again, I’ll spare the details but the over-arching concern was nerve damage and the consequent impact on going to the toilet.
The vet put a successful outcome as less than 5%. I asked if he would do the op if I insisted on it but he would “strongly” advise against. The guy from the night before, who had initially been quite confident, concurred having had a better look.
We found ourselves having to make a decision in that moment although there wasn’t really a decision to make. We were led to where she was to say goodbye. I asked if I could hold her while they “did it” and she was put to rest on the same arm that I would carry her home on every night.
This is her last photo:
We are completely heartbroken. Less than two years old, a lifetime of adventure and fun and love ahead of her. I am left with sadness, emptiness, anger. I would never in a million years wish a long illness upon a pet just so I can be mentally prepared for the inevitable, but my god the speed of this has been a real shock. Thursday night she was on our bed purring away, Saturday morning she is gone.
We will never know what happened to cause the injury. The only saving grace - a miracle really - is that we found her. She could still be out there now, dying cold and alone in that ditch. Instead, the people that loved her found her, and were able to give her a peaceful, dignified way out. I’d like to think it was the last kindness we gave her.
RIP Mabel.
We rescued Mabel just before Christmas 2021 from an RSPCA shelter when she was about 4 months old. She had been found under a car in Edgeware. She had had a lot of enquiries - she was beautiful - but they chose us to look after her.
She was a feisty little girl, having not had discipline/direction from an earlier age I suppose, and she injected some chaos into our home of me, my wife and our two older cats.
This is the first photo I have of her, the day after we brought her home:
She absolutely loved being outside, adventuring, burning off her energy and she soon became a character on the estate. Lots knew her name, mainly because I would go out every night to call her and she would come running up to me from one place or another, squeaking her little meow as she did. When she got to me she would always position herself for me to scoop her up onto my forearm where she would be carried home.
She settled really well with our other two over 18 months - very different in character and a thorn in their sides at times - but they would often be curled up in-sync on the bed together or out in the garden keeping an eye on each other.
My wife always referred to her as a “daddy’s girl” and we did have a great little bond. One thing that has only just hit me this morning is how different working from home will now be. No matter how bad a day I would be having I could always go and see her and fuss her for a bit to cheer me up. It is only on thinking back that I realise that every time I would do this I would have a big smile across my face, excited to go and see her. Excited to just go and see the cat for the fifth time that day; says it all doesn’t it!
These are a few of my favourite photos of her before I fast forward to now:
So Friday morning she didn’t come in for breakfast - not particularly unusual. However, it got to lunchtime and it was quite heavily raining and I was sure that she should have come back by now.
I’ll spare the full details but basically my sixth sense kicked in and I became obsessed with finding her, calling my wife home to help. Crawling through mud, water and bramble we eventually found her, sodden wet and with a nasty wound at her tail/rear end (don’t want to be graphic but basically tail severed, hanging by a bit of skin, and a big open wound where the muscle had been torn away).
We rushed her to the vets and they advised transfer to a nearby specialist to do an operation. This was planned for Saturday morning. We swung by the vets on Saturday morning, just to see how she had been the night before the op, hopes high that she would come back to us the same little - albeit tail-less - sod.
You know when you can tell straight away the news is not good? The tone of voice and look on the face? We went into the consultation room and had the situation explained. Again, I’ll spare the details but the over-arching concern was nerve damage and the consequent impact on going to the toilet.
The vet put a successful outcome as less than 5%. I asked if he would do the op if I insisted on it but he would “strongly” advise against. The guy from the night before, who had initially been quite confident, concurred having had a better look.
We found ourselves having to make a decision in that moment although there wasn’t really a decision to make. We were led to where she was to say goodbye. I asked if I could hold her while they “did it” and she was put to rest on the same arm that I would carry her home on every night.
This is her last photo:
We are completely heartbroken. Less than two years old, a lifetime of adventure and fun and love ahead of her. I am left with sadness, emptiness, anger. I would never in a million years wish a long illness upon a pet just so I can be mentally prepared for the inevitable, but my god the speed of this has been a real shock. Thursday night she was on our bed purring away, Saturday morning she is gone.
We will never know what happened to cause the injury. The only saving grace - a miracle really - is that we found her. She could still be out there now, dying cold and alone in that ditch. Instead, the people that loved her found her, and were able to give her a peaceful, dignified way out. I’d like to think it was the last kindness we gave her.
RIP Mabel.
Very sorry to hear about Mabel... it's scant consolation now while it's so fresh, but you did good by her: taking her on; going the extra mile to find her when injured; and making "that decision" when it was time.
We're on our sixth resue cat in the last 20 years. Experience says that we are lent some few years with our companions. Grief will fade with time, eventually, leaving memories of the happer moments we had with them.
We're on our sixth resue cat in the last 20 years. Experience says that we are lent some few years with our companions. Grief will fade with time, eventually, leaving memories of the happer moments we had with them.
Thank you for all the kind messages, you're a good bunch on here.
Makes you wonder doesn't it. Are all the years - 1, 2, 5, 10, 20 - of happiness you get from your animals worth it when, inevitably, you have to deal with this sooner or later? Does it balance the scales?
I know deep down it does and it is worth it, but you'll forgive me for doubting that at the moment.
Makes you wonder doesn't it. Are all the years - 1, 2, 5, 10, 20 - of happiness you get from your animals worth it when, inevitably, you have to deal with this sooner or later? Does it balance the scales?
I know deep down it does and it is worth it, but you'll forgive me for doubting that at the moment.
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