R.I. "Pee" Little "Bee"

Yesterday I had to say goodbye to my little black cat . Boston Blackie, known as Bee, was a tiny little girl with front legs that had never grown properly and were too short, so she always walked, and ran, at a tilt. She was my first foster-care baby, and like so many before me, I couldn't give her up. Coming from a feral background, she exhibited many of the traits of her wild ancestors, fearing strangers, and people in general. However, she loved my other cats and soon became a part of the pack, sleeping and eating, and playing with them every day. I could get near her at feeding time, always patting and stroking her to keep up a connection. Over the Fourth of July weekend I noticed she wasn't running into the kitchen to her bowl with the others. I soon discovered her hiding under one of the beds. This is usually not a good sign with any animal because when they're really feeling sick, they hide. As each day went by, I hoped for the best, that she'd be out and about, but by Monday I knew she was seriously ill. The big dilemma was: how to capture her and get her to the vet's. I called upon my good friend Carol, who is a cat caregiver herself, to try to shoo her out one side of the quilt so that I could grab her in a blanket and drop her into a carrier. Bee just screamed and ran. Then we knew we had to get the Animal Control Officer to come help. Sue King warned me that she would have to use a noose on a pole, and , wearing heavy gloves, she dragged Bee, yelling at the top of her lungs, and managed to get her into the carrier. There was no other way.......We drove to the emergency hospital in Buzzards Bay where they are equipped to deal with all kinds of situations. I had to put "she can't be handled" on the intake form.......When we got into an examining room with an ER vet we discussed our dilemma. (Bee was silent all this time, feeling safe in the box.) Dr. Robertson said that in order to determine what was wrong, a cat that was so wild would have to be sedated. All the necessary tests would be very expensive, and then we had the dilemma of how to administer medication if she couldn't be handled at all. Also, since she was very ill, it was most likely that she'd have to come back for re-checks. This meant calling the ACO again and terrorizing B. The decision to end her suffering had to be made, but it was very, very painful because I still didn't know WHAT was WRONG? I did remember that she'd had 10 happy years in my house that she never would have had outside with her mother. The head of Cause for Paws also told me that no one else would have adopted her with those bizarre legs. So, I just had to let go and keep remembering her funny little self. One final note. At this wonderful hospital they have a special way of dealing with the death of animals like Bee who are very frightened of being touched. They kept the carrier temporarily, and Dr. Robertson said it would very gently be tipped into a large glass enclosure where she would lie and fall asleep as gas was administered. Only after this, would the final anaesthetic be given to her. This kind of tender loving care and respect for shy Bee's need to be separate, though loving her caretakers for sure, is rare and wonderful. I am so grateful to the doctors and techs and my friends for all their support and wisdom at this time of sadness. A little black shadow flitted through my kitchen last night-just a glimpse......