This is not a story with a happy ending and there's no knitting content, so if that's important, move along.
About 3 or 4 weeks ago I noticed a new stray cat eating at the outside bowl. She was a little black and white spotted critter, and seemed to have a deformed face. My guess is that she was 6 months old and she'd been dumped. She was terrified of me, and even more terrified of Mr. Ken. Those who know Mr. Ken will find that funny. He's the kindest-to-animals person I've ever met, and animals generally adore him.
(My thoughts about people who dump their pets rather than dealing with the situation are not printable. Dumping a critter for any reason is a crime, and people who dump pets are criminals.)
We called her Funny Face, and made sure to leave the food outside until she'd eaten each night. She came by later than the neighborhood cats looking for a snack and the feral we feed regularly. I told Mr. Ken that, if I could get close enough, I'd check out her deformity and decide if a vet visit was in order.
(Yes, we know all about attracting wild animals with cat food - that's the reason we bring it in before we go to bed. The occasional fox on the back porch is interesting, but the constant stream of raccoons, opossums and skunks gets old.)
It took almost 3 weeks for her to trust me, but last Wednesday she made the leap from hiding if I came outside to waiting for me to come out and pet her. She purred like a fiend, rubbed against my legs and climbed into my lap. She was filthy, and she wasn't deformed. No, it was worse. Something was causing her face to disintegrate.
If you're squeamish, skip the next paragraph.
She had no nose leather left (when we first saw her, she did). Her muzzle where the whiskers should be was gone. There were weeping wounds below her eyes and down to her chin. I could see her gums and teeth when her mouth was closed. The face she had was beautiful, but it reminded me most of the mask in the Phantom of the Opera posters. And it smelled - oh, my God, it stunk.
Last night she seemed ready to trust me and let me hold her and snuggle her. I told her that she needed to go to the vet, and this morning she was waiting on the back porch - the first time she was out and visible in daylight. I put her in a cat carrier and we headed to our wonderful vet. He took her in immediately, and came back with the news: it wasn't an abscess or a scarey bacterial infection, it was worse. She had a type of cancer, squamous cell carcinoma, which eats tissue. It was so advanced and moving so quickly that there was nothing to do for her.
The other stray, feral and outdoor cats in the neighborhood had been attacking her, and she'd been bitten this morning in a cat fight. The cancer had advanced a lot in the 3 weeks we'd watched her, and we feared she'd die a slow and painful death.
Mr. Ken and I decided to have her euthanized.
I held her while the vet injected the drugs. She purred and kneaded her paws on my arm until the very end. She will be buried with our other beloved cats in the backyard. I believe she knew we'd take care of her and do what was right. I hope we did.
Good-bye, Funny Face.