Posts Tagged ‘suicide’
Would A Cat Commit Suicide?
I suppose this is a fairly odd topic, but I find it compelling, particularly in light of the fact that Beast, in the Wordless Wednesday photo in the previous post, seemed about to make that decision.
Beast started his life either as a stray, or neglected, nobody really knows and he’s not telling. He was terrified of people, but finally made his way into a warm, friendly house full of cat-lovers. These cat-lovers could not quite afford to have a cat but did their best to provide food and love. Unfortunately Beast did not get “fixed”. 
He came to our house on a Sunday, after leaving the only real home he ever knew, and after leaving his chosen human. Have you ever noticed that cats who have had a rough start will choose one person to love, while cats who have had a home full of loving humans will generally be quite social and willing to share their love with anyone?
Beast promptly found the tiniest most inconspicable little hole under the cellar stairs and made his way to the farthest reaches of the cellar BETWEEN THE WALLS. This was a nice cool finished off room that seemed to be the perfect place to store a frazzled cat for a few days until his scheduled surgery. We never saw that little hole.
Of course the logical thing to do was put out delectible food and water because everyone KNEW he would come out eventually to eat and drink. He did not.
By Tuesday, he had not had a thing to eat or drink and we were desperate. A friend came over and helped us remove the panelling, and with some squeezing between stinky moldy spider-infested walls I was able to pull him out and get him into a holeless room upstairs. Good thing I’m little. If our landlady, fondly referred to as The Wicked Witch of the West 
ever knew we had taken those walls apart she would have a major, broom-whacking, face-scrunching hissy fit. I hope they look like they have not been tampered with.
Tuesday night, it was clear that Beast was dying of dehydration. He could not go for his surgery. He absolutely refused water, milk, sardine juice, or affection. We told him that we would not let him die. He’d have to pick a different time for that, far into the future. We told him that we loved him and he would have a good home. We force-fed him drops of raw milk all night until he started drinking on his own. He finally ate a bit the next day, had a whooping diarrhea blowout, got moved into the bathroom (easier to clean poo off the bathroom floor) and has been hiding under the tub for three weeks.
He has been eating well now for awhile, he’ll let us hold and pet him and he purrs up a storm, and he uses the litter box (yay) but the tub is his refuge. His surgery is re-scheduled for 9/11.
I know he would have just let himself die that night, but it makes me wonder what goes on in his delicate little psyche that would allow him to just die. I’m infinitely thankful that we got through to him and nudged him back to life. He’s a good cat. A bit introverted. We now call him Emo-cat. You’ve got to have teenagers to figure that last one out.
