The Dying Kitten, Summer 2004, by Elisabeth Shoop

From MemoryArchive

Who: Elisabeth Shoop
What: Witnessing the death of a pet
When: Summer 2004
Where: In my back yard

Do not get too emotionally attached to stray cats. Nothing good will come of it. When I was about fourteen or so, a cat and five kittens appeared in my backyard. Being the kind and compassionate person I am, I started feeding them leftovers that I snuck from the refrigerator when no one was home. Eventually my parents found out, but I somehow convinced them to keep feeding them; then the cats got cat food, instead of Macaroni and Cheese. Now, cats multiply, and these were no exception. Over the next few years I saw many cats have kittens, grow up, wander off, and die. However, one particular death still stands out in my mind.

I think it was the summer after I graduated high school, because I wasn’t taking any classes. One of the relatively affectionate cats had gotten herself pregnant, again. Then one morning, she was skinny again, so I figured she had had her kittens. It was summer in Florida and very hot, so I went out mid morning to check on the cats and make sure they had enough water. While I was out there, I heard a sound. I walked down to where the noise was coming from, and there was a tiny kitten, squirming on the ground. It was just a tiny, black, kitten, obviously just born that morning.

Now, I have seen my share of dead and dying cats, so I know when a cat is dying. The poor thing was covered in sand, and the flies were already going at it. Flies do not have the decency to wait for a creature to die before swarming on it. This baby was trying to cry out for its mother, but could barely make out the tiniest, hoarse “mew.” I showed it to its mother, who was right there, and she just walked away. Then I knew for sure; mama cats will not bother with a kitten they know is going to die.

I went back in the house, found a soft pair of gloves, a washcloth, a medicine dropper, and plenty of water. If the kitten was going to die, I wasn’t going to let it die in too much discomfort. I cleaned the little thing off, and gave it a couple drops of water. This at least got the sand out of its mouth. I tried to give it some milk mixed with a raw egg (one of my friends used that to feed a baby squirrel) but the poor baby rejected it.

So, I sat there for hours; keeping the kitten clean, cool, and shooing away the flies. I would give it a few drops of water occasionally, to soothe its poor little throat. Mostly it just lay in my hand, crying its pathetic little “mew.” After a few hours, its voice gave out. I sat there holding its little writhing body; petting it and trying to soothe its pain. After a little while longer, it stopped moving, and eventually realized it had also stopped breathing. I sat there crying for a long time. Then, I dug a hole in the backyard and buried it along with a dog, a squirrel, and more cats than I can remember. The poor thing had only been alive a matter of hours. Nothing should have to live and die like that. So please, spay and neuter your pets.