A Sick Cat

At first, I was annoyed. It was relatively early on a Sunday morning, and some horny cat was under my bedroom window announcing herself to potential lovers. I had been sick for a few days and just wanted to sleep and get better. But the loud feline “come hithers” made that impossible.

But then I noticed that something sounded different. This wasn’t your usual plaintive plea for the attention of the local tomcats; it was deeper and more mournful. Something was wrong.

So I got up and looked out my window. Next to the bench outside the entrance to my building, and right under my second-floor window, was a yellow cat sitting there and howling. It wasn’t moving much, just sitting low to the ground and crying, but I wasn’t sure why.

I had seen this cat around a few times before, so I knew it was local, perhaps from the building on the other side of the driveway. Its coat was in pretty good condition, and it wasn’t thin, so I knew it wasn’t a homeless wanderer. But, what could have been wrong?

Hunger didn’t seem to be the issue, and I had assumed previously that it was a male, so it didn’t make sense for it to be in heat. But the sound of the cat’s cries made it clear that something was not right. 

Then the cat tried to take a step, and I saw that it was wobbly. It couldn’t keep its balance properly except when it hunkered down on all fours with its belly to the ground. When it tried to stand up fully or walk, it staggered to the side, as though it was drunk… or very ill.

Now the sorrowful meowing made more sense. The cat didn’t seem to have any outward signs of injury, so the problem must have been internal. Perhaps it ate something bad, or maybe it had some kind of illness. Maybe it had been in the nearby dumpster and got hold of something that made it sick. My worst thought was that someone might have put out poison. No matter the reason, this little cat needed help.

It was pretty early, and not a lot of people were up and about. At one point, a young guy walked down the driveway, and the cat noticed him. Immediately the cat’s meowing picked up both in volume and frequency. It was as though the cat was pleading for help. The guy shot a glance at the cat but kept moving.

The cat took a couple of staggering steps away from the bench, then settled down on its belly again and continued its low moaning. My annoyance was completely gone, replaced with concern. I wondered what I could do. Anything?

My Conflict

I was sick too. I hadn’t left the apartment since I got home late Thursday afternoon. I was getting better, but I still felt pretty lousy and was just doing my best to stay warm. Plus, I had my usual expatriate dilemma of knowing that there are many things here that I just can’t deal with as I would in my own environment.

If this cat were outside my home in Colorado, I would know exactly what to do. If I knew the cat’s owners, I would alert them. If I didn’t know the cat’s home, I could rescue it in a towel or something, and take it to a vet in my truck. I usually knew where the vet offices were located and could check the phone directory if I didn’t know. 

But here, I don’t know where the nearest vets are located or whether they even work on Sunday mornings (doubtful). I don’t have my own transportation, and even if I did find a working vet and managed to take the cat there, I would still have language issues.

I was conflicted. I love animals and have a particular fondness for cats. It always affects me when I see or hear about cats in trouble, and I can’t escape the urge to want to take in just about every homeless kitten I see advertised on VKontakte. I resist because, logically, I know that I just can’t do it. But my inner feelings are never comfortable with that logical resistance.

So because of how I feel about cats, I naturally felt a strong urge to do something, but as I mentioned, I felt severely limited in my ability to help. Really, this seemed to be for someone else to take action on, and I felt confident that someone would. After all, I know there are other kind, cat-loving people in my building.

And why should I assume that it’s my responsibility to intervene? I can’t save every cat, and nature has to work its way. I couldn’t save my own cats – Koshka and Nekko – 10 years ago. But maybe that was part of the issue. Maybe I’ve felt guilty about that for all this time.

Remembering the Twins

Nekko was a yellow cat, quite similar in appearance to the one under my window; his name means cat in Japanese. Koshka, whose name means cat in Russian, was his sister. I took them both from a left-behind litter, and they lived with me for 12 years. During that time, they were never separated from each other. 

Then, while I was away for a couple of weeks working on a project near Chicago, Koshka disappeared. When I returned home, she was nowhere to be found. Nekko was still in the house, but it was clear that he was upset. My neighbor had been coming over to feed them every day while I was gone, but she rarely saw them, so she did not know that Koshka was gone, and we had no idea how long she had been missing. 

I had made the mistake of letting them have access to the back yard through an unlocked cat door. Being older, they rarely left the yard, and I did not think that either of them would wander off. I thought they would enjoy being able to go out safely into our fully fenced back yard. I was very wrong.

When I returned from Chicago and found Koshka missing, I searched everywhere for her. I drove the streets looking for any sign of her, even if it was evidence of the worst sort. But I never found her. She was gone, and my own stupidity was to blame.

Nekko, meanwhile, was now alone – except for me – and his heart was broken. I still had to make trips to Chicago, and this made it even harder. For a while, my daughter came with her cat, which as a kitten had spent time with Nekko and Koshka. But it wasn’t the same. After a few months, Nekko became sick and very weak.

We took him to a vet, and he got a little better for a while, but then his condition worsened, and the vet said there was nothing that could be done. He was sick, weak and thin. He either cried or just wanted to be held and cuddled. But there was no hope. All that was left was to have the vet put him down painlessly. I loved that cat, and I couldn’t do it; I should have been the one, but I couldn’t. My daughter took him for his last trip to the vet. I was pretty shaken up about it all.

Getting Weaker

I looked out the window again and saw that the yellow cat had somehow made its way across the driveway and was out in the open on the other side, surrounded by fallen yellow leaves. It was still crying, but not as much. And it wasn’t moving much either. I needed to rest, so I took a nap for a couple of hours. Then I got up and check on it. It was still there, but had moved closer to the other building and rested on its belly in a small opening in the bushes.

I continued looking out the window from time to time and saw that it hardly moved at all. It seemed a lot weaker, and I feared that it might have died or been near death. I thought that maybe I should get dressed and at least take some water out to it, but I was worried about what I might find.

Then I saw it move its head a bit, so I knew it was still alive, at least. I could not hear it, so I was not sure if it continued crying or had run out of energy. I just hoped that its owners would come and take it home, or that someone would intervene and help. Again, I took a short nap.

And Then the Rain Came

After a bit, I awoke to the sound of rain. It started coming down hard, and I immediately looked out the window to see if the cat was still there. I could not see it at all. It was very cold, and the rain was mixed with small hail stones. I hoped that the cat had been taken to safety and was being cared for, but my worst fear was that it had crawled under some bushes to take refuge from the rain, a place that would make it even harder for anyone to see.

And the bushes would not provide much refuge anyway. If the cat was still out there, it would be soaking wet and terribly cold, along with whatever was ailing it. The thought crossed my mind again to go out there and check, but I reminded myself – again – that I was not feeling well, and there just was not much that I could really do. I hated that feeling.

It rained several more times that day. I had no idea what happened to the cat. Monday morning I scoured the area from my window and saw nothing. Before I went to my client company, I walked into the area where I last saw the cat, but I saw no sign of it. 

I have been worrying about that cat since Sunday, and have checked the yard each day. The cat made me think about Nekko and Koshka, but on Sunday I also related with it a bit myself. It was sick, alone and wanting help. I too was sick and alone, but at least I was able to care for myself well enough.

I am trying to remain positive and believe that someone – the cat’s owner or some other kind person – found the little guy (or girl) and rescued it. But I don’t think I will feel completely right about it until I see that cat walking around the yard again in a healthy state. Until then, I just have to keep good thoughts… and stop second-guessing my own actions years ago with Koshka and Nekko.

ps - The cat in the photo at the top of the post is not the actual cat I have written about; it's just a representative picture.

FOLLOW-UP - 20 October: Today I saw the yellow cat, apparently in good health, outside my building.  All is well. :-)