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.
