The call came from David's cousin & family. They have a cottage in northern Ontario and had found a young black cat. (Of course, it was black!) "What do we do?"? I told them we could help them, but it was kitten season....yada yada yada....could they please hang on to the guy and I'll do my best as quickly as I can. They don't like cats. Didn't want a cat. Period.
I asked them to show some compassion for this cat. They have children....it's important.
A few more emails arrived from the Mrs. that "Spencer" (he has a name now!) would be staying in their boathouse and "Mr." (staying anonymous here) was not happy about having a cat in his boathouse. Seriously? Was it really that hard to keep this guy in an empty boathouse until I could figure it all out?
I was so happy when the email arrived that they found a foster home for Spencer! It was well within the borders of our rescue, and I couldn't be more thrilled that this was all working out. The email continued, "....but the foster home won't work because the dog doesn't like him."
Oh. My. Gosh. Back to work on finding placement for Spencer.
A few days went by and I kept my head low. I was hoping that they'd get this sorted out on their own. But nothing could prepare me for the email I received next....
"...I am heartbroken. We took him to the vets....he was dehydrated....lots of money...we put him down."
The words jumped off the page. My heart pounded as questions flew through my head.
They had him euthanized because he was dehydrated?
Why didn't I do more?
Why did I let them flail around and figure things out on their own?
What kind vet killed a dehydrated cat?
*I* would've paid for his I.V.!
I could have done something!
THIS IS WHAT *I* DO!
I failed. I failed big time on this. They reached out for help and I had hoped it would all go away. Maybe they would fall in love with Spencer, or find a family to love him. I knew they weren't animal people....
They had sent me a picture of him when they first found him.