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In November of 2002 I moved into a condo complex, and within a few weeks I became aware of a small feral/unwanted housecat colony on the property. Some kind soul had taken the trouble to build a shelter in a quiet spot near the wooded property line, and soon my wife and I began keeping up with it, stocking with water, food, etc. Our new neighbors told us the colony had been there for at least two years, and there were about 6 cats left in the colony (a no-kill shelter had swept through earlier and got almost 20 cats).
Eventually we managed to trap all of the cats - three clearly discarded housecats (people sometimes leave their animals behind when the move from these places), the other three a family (mom and two daughters) with the daughter cats being born feral. We managed to find new homes for the housecats, but ultimately we could not adopt out the mother and daughters. With time and patience, these cats eventually came around to us, the mother cat. The youngest (and neediest) cat was a small tuxedo named Gypsy - absolutely terrified of people, and just a pitiful, anxious mess altogether. To make a very long story short, The mother and her other daughter were eventually adopted by a family friend whom they learned to trust, and Gypsy stayed with us.
A few years have passed, the wife has moved on and I now find myself living with the company of my houscat Buddy and my ever-companion, Gypsy. Not that anyone I know would believe I have two cats - no one ever catches a glimpse of my mysterious 'black and white' cat. Gypsy spends her days living under my bed for the most part, only coming out when I am laying quietly on the couch watching TV. That's the only time I see this skittery, nervous cat look at ease. It's the only time I hear her purr.
Just this past week, I noticed Gypsy really bad breath and I became concerned - she had never been to a vet since she had been processed (trapped, examined, vaccinated, spayed) originally. She was a nightmare to transport - I have the emotional and physical scars to prove it. She never means to hurt, she was just so afraid of people. I'm the only one she trusts at all. Anyways, it turns out her teeth and gums are pretty bad (at 5 years old!), she will need several pulled and will need to have her mouth flushed out nightly for a few weeks. The total for the oral surgery would be about $1200, and the vet went over every item on the list and I felt his cost (considering what was required) was being very reasonable.
Folks, I just can't do it. I can't afford to provide the treatment that this animal needs to enjoy a reasonable quality of life. Who knows how much pain she is in right now, animals can mask pain so well sometimes. A few years back, a similar vet emergency came up with a cat we had (and still have to this day), he needed emergency surgery which came to $2500 and I'm probably still paying interest on it. I hate that I have to decide whether a living thing lives or dies based on my financial situation. It stings. This is unbelievably hard for me. But I have to be the grownup here. The worst part is knowing that I'm the only living creature this cat trusts, and I have to make this choice now.
Thanks for letting me get that out.
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