Bob came into and out of my life quickly. A little over 24 hours.
Bob was first spotted yesterday afternoon at work. We tried to get close to see his age, health, etc.. but the quick little guy got away and hid under a cargo transport trailer. We hoped that we would see him again the next day.
Today, while going to get the mail, I saw him again. Such a smart little boy, he even had me on my hands and knees in the mud attempting to coax him out. I could tell that he was very scared and malnourished and that he had been exposed to the elements for far too long. I decided to let it be for a while but talked to all the guys and put them on high alert. I didn't want him sneaking into one of their trailers and getting locked in there all weekend.
Then I got the call. The guys had him surrounded under a truck. We finally got him out, and I scooped him up in a work tee-shirt. He was in very bad shape. Frail and all bones. He was covered in tics feasting on draining the remaining life out of him. I started popping them like bubble wrap and felt no remorse. Pop! I gently laid him on my desk next to Work Cat and he calmed. Too much. I realized that the fight had gone out of him. I tried dribbling water into his mouth, but there was little response. Work cat apparently didn't realize that there was a kitten curled into her as she slept, but when she woke there was a reaction I hadn't anticipated. She was scared of the kitten. We joked about him being a landscape cat and named him Bob Cat. (get it?)
And the kitten continue to let go of life. I laid him in the kitty pi bed and drove him home. I cooed and sang softly, gently petting while I drove home. I got him home and grabbed some towells, I locked us in the down stairs bathroom. I tried to get water down his throut with an eye dropper. But it was too late. With a last exhalation, he was gone, the light gone from his eyes. I sat on the floor holding him in towels.
I gave him a bath and dried and fluffed him. As I did, I took a closer look at Bob. And I started to suspect that the name we gave him may have been more apt than we realized. His ears were overly large on a kitten, and while he was obviously still in the milk phase (only teeth cut were canines), he seemed large framed, even if the poor guy had starved to death, which I think triggered a heart attack, or he simply gave up.
When he was clean and presentable, I went about tending to the disposal of his remains. While I personally wish to be cremated, I am fairly certain that firing up the wood stove would be a very bad idea. In the end, I decided that a nice Victoria Secret bag would please him. Had he lived, I have no doubt that he would drag my underwear around the house. I laid him in, wrapped in tissue and added a small ball of cashmere yarn. What kitty wouldn't like yarn and cashmere will go along way on the River Styx.
I buried Bob under a Mulberry tree on the edge of a field of honeysuckle. I laid two large logs in an X over his grave. Said a prayer and let the drizzling rain hide my tears. I could have done nothing different and this was just the circle of life.
But I looked out of curiosity, and this bobcat kitten looks very much like Bob.
Rest in Peace.