The death of Marlon the cat - sad story

So I sat down with a colleague from the Fish Factory and happened to pass a comment about pets and cats. At which she said she had just lost her cat. It had slipped my memory, she asked if I knew and I said no. It might of been a mistake, but she then went on to tell the story.  One weekend she had decided to stay late at work. It was a Saturday and this was unusual for her but she did anyway. Then she returned home, as she approached her house she could see there was a crowd of people outside and wondered what on earth was happening. They were neighbours and passers-by. One said she had bad news. The cat (Marlon) had been attacked by two dogs. There were three dogs but the third had been held back by it's owner. Two men were walking past her house with their dogs. One had a Staff. It saw Marlon sitting outside her house and ran for it. I recall Marlon, I'd seen him once about a year ago when a group of us had been invited over for dinner. He was a beautiful cat. Quite a big ginger, but I could tell he had one of those relaxed happy attitudes, he liked attention and was so, so chilled. If you are a cat lover then you know every cat is different and to own one which is calm and relaxed and caring is beautiful. Marlon was obediently waiting for his mistress to come home and sitting outside his own house was the most natural thing in the world to do. The staff got hold of Marlon in his jaws and shook the cat swinging it from side to side. The two men walking their dogs got to the staff, and they had to prize the dog's jaws open so it would release Marlon. At which Marlon slopped off, Injured and in severe pain down an alleyway beside the houses. The neighbours outside had witnessed this event or some of them had and the others were there as moral support to the witnesses.

My colleage was mortified and in tears, she went down the alleyway to find Marlon. Calling out his name. Some of the neighbours had bought torches and blankets. It was February and had been an exceedingly cold long winter. Where ever the cat was it would be cold, the night was drawing in early. With the search party they went over garden fences from house to house. Some people came out and wondered what had happened. She told them and sympathetically they either helped or assisted in some way. Someone thought they had seen Marlon go to the end of a garden and had likely crawled down a fox-like-hole. She called out, but nothing. The eye witness was sure the cat was in the hole. They'd heard a cat crying out just after the incident. She scrambled amongst the thorns and undergrowth tearing her arms and legs in the brush but could not get to the hole. Going home she called the PDSA and her vet. The vet said they would be on standby for her at any time. The PDSA said they could not do anything until the cat was found. She called her friends and her son who was due home at about 11 p.m., then distraught with worry changed into some thick jeans and a jumper. She went back to the house again with a borrowed torch and pruning sheers and began to cut away at the undergrowth to get to the hole. To get to Marlon. Bit by bit, she got to it. Calling out to Marlon. There was no sound and no movement. Another phone call to the vet and they advised her not to shine a torch at the cat but away from it, otherwise it could go deeper into the hole. Her son turned up.

There was something between her son and Marlon. He was a special pet to her son.  So he tried instead. Rather than shine the torch in the hole or on the ground he shone it at himself and called to Marlon.  At which there was a cry from the hole. The wounded animal slowly clawed its way to the surface. One of it's legs was badly injured to the extent my colleague could not look at it. She scooped Marlon up in a blanket to warm him and immediately whisk him off to the vets. They knew she was coming.

Marlon was in a bad way. She left him with the vet and received a phone call at two a.m. they told her, Marlon would lose a leg, they had managed to warm him up and to sedate him. But they had to operate as well. They didn't know if his bladder was ruptured, they gave her the choice, because of Marlon's injury's it was going to be a difficult operation, or they could put him down. She spoke to her son and he thought they had to try and operate. At five a.m. she had another phone call. Marlon had not pulled through, they had been mostly successful with the operation but he had sustained so many tears to his muscles they were unable to patch him up. Marlon passed away.

As I listened to this conversation I got upset and don't know how I held it together.  Every pet I've known and loved has been very painful to lose. My colleague managed to hunt down both the men who and their dogs involved in this incident. There was a number of descriptions from neighbours and one neighbour had CCTV, so she had images of them. She found their address and reported the entire incident to the police.  Some three months later she sat with the dog owners in a police station and asked them why they left and didn't come back. She asked them if they knew and understood what they had done. How she had rescued Marlon how much she loved him. At first they were defensive but then became apologetic.  I can't believe she was able to hold it together like she had and gone through this process, I'd of felt like killing dog or the owner, doing it of course is a different thing. She kept as calm as possible during the entire interview with police officers present. The dog owners were given a warning, although there was nothing which could be done about the dogs this would be on file. She could of taken these two owners to court and also sued them for veterinary costs.  Thankfully she had insurance.  The dog owners were warned were this to happen again and the incident bought before a judge, given this previous history it would not look good for them or the dogs.

Marlon now sits in the front room and she wonders now what to do with his ashes.  The companionship and friendship he had once provided is lost and remembered every day.

Cat love begins at 3:40 in the morning

This morning the cat showed his affection towards me at 3:40 a.m.  he shouted it as loud and clearly as he could in my ear.  Oliver said good morning and he now wanted to be let out into the garden.  Sparkling has said when I'm here this is my duty, whatever happens Oliver becomes my early morning responsibility.  It's nice to know he loves me but I'd wish it was at a more appropriate time of day. It's both sleep deprivation and psychological warfare.  The greatest strategists of war could learn a lot by studying their pets, I'm sure even a gold fish would have some interesting point to make.

It's the weekend so Sparkling has been working and I've been left with painting the kitchen. In a colour called Lemon Pie.  I have never eaten a lemon pie before and it sounds a little sharp for my taste, but colour wise it is quite refreshing.  Only thing is a second coat is needed and my feet are so cream crackered (nackered) I just don't have the energy to hit the DIY store, walk back and again start painting.  Which is the thing with emulsion paint.  One coat is never enough, the same with chocolates, or biscuits.  There are things I could of done other than painting yet this seemed the best use of my time and I know Sparkles will be happy.  Even happier when the second layer has been added.

At last the Olympics is coming to an end.  The disasters of travelling in and around London have probably been averted by commuters themselves deciding to take this time off work and having extended holidays or better still working from the living room chair.  I've heard it said commuter numbers are down by twenty percent.  This seem about right, as I got on the tube I couldn't but notice there were actually free seats.  This is unheard of on the Northern line at peak travelling time.  No doubt central London businesses have suffered a blow from it all. 

Sparkling allowed me to tag along to an engagement party she had been invited to, lucky me.  But unfortunately I was given instructions to keep it low key.  It simply meant I was not allowed to get myself either too drunk or to dance, even if I felt like it.  At one point the rhythm nearly got me, as my legs tapped away to the beat of the music.  I got to meet Sparkling's work associates.  These were mostly young girls in their teens.  They all seemed to love Sparkling and at least two of them said Sparkling was like their second mum.  I saw her boss, a little man who I know had been obnoxious to Sparkling on occasion and refrained from talking to him about his behaviour.  It would not of done much good and I'm sure at some time he will get his karma come back to him.  It was good to put names to faces.  I'll get to see them in my mind next time Sparkles talks about them.  It was odd as I sat there, being half merry and enjoying the atmosphere how my internal voice kept yabbering away as though narrating a book.  It seemed to flow so easily, I thought if only I could remember all of this stuff going on in my head and then write it down.  Of course it doesn't work this way.  It's either a matter of get it written or recorded or it's instantly forgotten.  The eloquent thoughts have therefore flown away  on the wings of a butterfly.  Very gentle and very fragile.

It's just turned seven in the evening and Sparkles has still not turned up.  I know the cat's biscuit tin is empty and will need some more, he can moan if there's no food left.  Sparkling will likely want some food to eat.  What I should do then is think of making food.  Something light.  Something Sparkling will like as well.  Better go and find Oliver first though, wake him up tell him I love him in a loud cat way he'll appreciate.  As they say karma is a bitch.