Baby Boy Bengal (unknown birth day - May 15, 2009)

So sorry this had such a sad ending. He surely knew he was loved in that
short time. Purrs and good thoughts for you.

On May 15, 1:09*pm, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:
Actually, he wasn't a baby. *I have no idea how old he was. *I tried
to catch him, all winter. *Tried to show him he could trust me. *He
had begun to allow me to get near, but not close. *He ate after
sundown, because he was terrified of some of the other Tom cats
around.

My neighbor, who speaks nearly no English, came to me this morning.
She tried to tell me there was a sick cat at her house. *I understood
'gato', but not much else. *Her son came over and said that there was
a cat, he seemed very ill, and no one would come and get him. *I went
over, and there was my Baby Boy Bengal (who I called Bengi because I
could never get close enough to see if he was a boy or a girl). *He
was breathing, but just lying there.

I picked him up. *This tiny thing (he was probably 18 months old) that
had been such a full bodied cat, less than 3 months ago. *He'd been so
cared for, I thought maybe his slaves had found him, when I stopped
seeing him around. *He couldn't have weighed 4 pounds now. *I could
feel his little bones, and he obviously had a respiratory thing.

I called my own TED, and asked if I could bring him in. *Thinking, URI
and some dehydration, and I'd have the Bengal cat I've been wanting.
I wrapped him in a clean, soft towel, and off to the vet we went. *Me
crying, asking *whoever* to please protect the little one, to not take
two from me, within three weeks.

We waited in the room for her to finish her surgery. *I was given a
bowl of water, and a little 'dropper', to see if he'd (we realized he
was intact) drink water. *He would. *Everytime I moved my hands away,
he'd crawl over to lie on my left hand, while I droppered water into
his mouth, with my right.

He had the eyes of my Tuppence (RB 05). *He looked so tired. *I knew,
even then. *I hoped, I cried, I begged him to be alright. *I begged
him to just have an infection that I could treat. *I told him that I
would take care of him, and I'd treat him the way he appeared to
deserve.

The vet came in. *She told me that he was very anemic (his gums were
nearly white). *She said it's a kindness to let him go. *I said,
please do blood work. *I want to know if it's beyond help before I
decide to send him on his way. *She did as I asked.

I sat with him, and talked to him, told him how beautiful he was, how
much I would love him, if only he would be alright, so I could take
him home. *The vet came back. *Bad news. *His red cells were so low,
that even an infusion would probably not save him. *His clotting
factor was non-existent (dont' remember what she said it was). *She
said, again, it's a kindness to let him go.

We sat for a time. *I told him what a good boy he'd been. *I told him
how I looked for him everyday, because he was so handsome. *I told him
that I wanted to pet him from the moment I first laid eyes on him. *I
pet him, and I held him close to me. *When the vet came back in, I
told her we were ready.

As she shaved his leg, I told him that Tuppence, Nicodemus, Madison,
and Piewackett (to name a few) would be waiting for him. *I told him
to look for Pretty Face and Chief and Sam and Snuggums and Pookie and
Big Mouth and too many other ferals and strays to recall. *I told him
that I would be looking for him, when it was my turn to walk that
way. *I asked him if he saw Little Foot to tell him that I tried very
hard to protect him, and I was so sorry I hadn't, but that I loved
him.

I held his head, off the cold steel table, so that he wouldn't have
some that hard as his last memory. *I stroke his back and tummy as the
vet sent him on his final journey. *I told him that I would miss him,
even though I hardly knew him. *And I cried. *Harder than I have every
cried for any of the others. *Maybe because I knew the others had been
shown love and caring by me, because they all knew that I wanted to
protect and keep them warm. *He didn't know those things from me.

It was a long, hard ride in, with worry. *It was a long, desperately
sad ride home, without him. *My spirit is broken, I can do no more.

Smokie Darling (Annie)

Speaking to myself, as I do that alot (and claim it's the cats I'm
talking to)...

I simply wanted to thank everyone, for the kind words, the care, the
candles. It still hurts, but I can now look back and not immediately
burst into tears, that's a plus.

My vet's assistant (Bonnie) called me yesterday evening. She had been
very worried, and had been fighting with herself whether to access my
file at the office for my number or not. She did, and it was such a
kindness. She had never seen me cry before, not even tears for my
beloved Tuppence (until I was alone, and it was 24 hours later). She
wanted to make sure I was alright.

You have all been so wonderful, and you have no idea how much I have
appreciated your care and concern (particularly *you* who wrote to me
at me email, you know who you are). Whilst my husband thinks I'm
stupid because I barely knew Bengi, you all understood how and why I
felt the way I did. That has been particularly helpful. At least I
know if I'm a bit crazy (okay, alot crazy), I am not the only one.

Thank you, all, so much.

Smokie Darling (Annie) - the spirit is still broken, but I hope now
that it will mend, where Friday I didn't care if it ever did

Smokie Darling (Annie) wrote:
Actually, he wasn't a baby. I have no idea how old he was. I tried
to catch him, all winter. Tried to show him he could trust me. He
had begun to allow me to get near, but not close. He ate after
sundown, because he was terrified of some of the other Tom cats
around.

My neighbor, who speaks nearly no English, came to me this morning.
She tried to tell me there was a sick cat at her house. I understood
'gato', but not much else. Her son came over and said that there was
a cat, he seemed very ill, and no one would come and get him. I went
over, and there was my Baby Boy Bengal (who I called Bengi because I
could never get close enough to see if he was a boy or a girl). He
was breathing, but just lying there.

I picked him up. This tiny thing (he was probably 18 months old) that
had been such a full bodied cat, less than 3 months ago. He'd been so
cared for, I thought maybe his slaves had found him, when I stopped
seeing him around. He couldn't have weighed 4 pounds now. I could
feel his little bones, and he obviously had a respiratory thing.

I called my own TED, and asked if I could bring him in. Thinking, URI
and some dehydration, and I'd have the Bengal cat I've been wanting.
I wrapped him in a clean, soft towel, and off to the vet we went. Me
crying, asking *whoever* to please protect the little one, to not take
two from me, within three weeks.

We waited in the room for her to finish her surgery. I was given a
bowl of water, and a little 'dropper', to see if he'd (we realized he
was intact) drink water. He would. Everytime I moved my hands away,
he'd crawl over to lie on my left hand, while I droppered water into
his mouth, with my right.

He had the eyes of my Tuppence (RB 05). He looked so tired. I knew,
even then. I hoped, I cried, I begged him to be alright. I begged
him to just have an infection that I could treat. I told him that I
would take care of him, and I'd treat him the way he appeared to
deserve.

The vet came in. She told me that he was very anemic (his gums were
nearly white). She said it's a kindness to let him go. I said,
please do blood work. I want to know if it's beyond help before I
decide to send him on his way. She did as I asked.

I sat with him, and talked to him, told him how beautiful he was, how
much I would love him, if only he would be alright, so I could take
him home. The vet came back. Bad news. His red cells were so low,
that even an infusion would probably not save him. His clotting
factor was non-existent (dont' remember what she said it was). She
said, again, it's a kindness to let him go.

We sat for a time. I told him what a good boy he'd been. I told him
how I looked for him everyday, because he was so handsome. I told him
that I wanted to pet him from the moment I first laid eyes on him. I
pet him, and I held him close to me. When the vet came back in, I
told her we were ready.

As she shaved his leg, I told him that Tuppence, Nicodemus, Madison,
and Piewackett (to name a few) would be waiting for him. I told him
to look for Pretty Face and Chief and Sam and Snuggums and Pookie and
Big Mouth and too many other ferals and strays to recall. I told him
that I would be looking for him, when it was my turn to walk that
way. I asked him if he saw Little Foot to tell him that I tried very
hard to protect him, and I was so sorry I hadn't, but that I loved
him.

I held his head, off the cold steel table, so that he wouldn't have
some that hard as his last memory. I stroke his back and tummy as the
vet sent him on his final journey. I told him that I would miss him,
even though I hardly knew him. And I cried. Harder than I have every
cried for any of the others. Maybe because I knew the others had been
shown love and caring by me, because they all knew that I wanted to
protect and keep them warm. He didn't know those things from me.

It was a long, hard ride in, with worry. It was a long, desperately
sad ride home, without him. My spirit is broken, I can do no more.

Smokie Darling (Annie)

How very sad. Now *I* am crying.

--
Jean B.

On May 17, 7:49*am, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:
*Whilst my husband thinks I'm
stupid because I barely knew Bengi, you all understood how and why I
felt the way I did. *

I never saw a picture of Bengi, in fact never knew he existed until
the other day and I bawled my eyes out. I've only ever seen one
picture of KFC and a forntight later I still have to wipe my eyes when
I read Tweed's posts about her. Dave can sometimes be wise, he comes
in and sees what I am looking at and just hands me the tissues and
asks me the details. When he read about Bengi he claimed to have a
sudden outbreak of hay fever but I am not fooled (and was slightly
annoyed as he'd taken the tissues). He also couldn't believe what
happened to KFC (and had another sudden outbreak of hay fever)

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs

On May 17, 11:17*am, wrote:
On May 17, 7:49*am, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:
**Whilst my husband thinks I'm

stupid because I barely knew Bengi, you all understood how and why I
felt the way I did. *

I never saw a picture of Bengi, in fact never knew he existed until
the other day and I bawled my eyes out. *I've only ever seen one
picture of KFC and a forntight later I still have to wipe my eyes when
I read Tweed's posts about her. *Dave can sometimes be wise, he comes
in and sees what I am looking at and just hands me the tissues and
asks me the details. *When he read about Bengi he claimed to have a
sudden outbreak of hay fever but I am not fooled (and was slightly
annoyed as he'd taken the tissues). He also couldn't believe what
happened to KFC (and had another sudden outbreak of hay fever)

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs

Your Dave sounds like a keeper. Mine read what I'd written, and just
shrugged.

There *are* times I'd like to be that blasé about things, over the
short term. Don't see it happening anytime soon however.

I understand my being as upset as I was over KFC. I adored her from a
distance. Loved her by osmosis (or something like that).

On May 17, 10:58*am, "Smokie Darling (Annie)"
wrote:

Your Dave sounds like a keeper.


As I say after 31 years I have to keep him since the guarantee has
long since run out so I can't get a new one!

I mean he'll make a big show of "it's my hay fever playing up" but
given what he's just read/been told about you just have to conclude:

1. So you're allergic to bad news about cats even if you know because
Lesley just told you- maybe you're allergic to her voice

2. You're a big fraud really aren't you Dave?

Lesley

Slave of the Fabulous Furballs

but he does know now, he is where he does know you and your love, Lee
"Smokie Darling (Annie)" wrote in message
...
Actually, he wasn't a baby. I have no idea how old he was. I tried
to catch him, all winter. Tried to show him he could trust me. He
had begun to allow me to get near, but not close. He ate after
sundown, because he was terrified of some of the other Tom cats
around.

My neighbor, who speaks nearly no English, came to me this morning.
She tried to tell me there was a sick cat at her house. I understood
'gato', but not much else. Her son came over and said that there was
a cat, he seemed very ill, and no one would come and get him. I went
over, and there was my Baby Boy Bengal (who I called Bengi because I
could never get close enough to see if he was a boy or a girl). He
was breathing, but just lying there.

I picked him up. This tiny thing (he was probably 18 months old) that
had been such a full bodied cat, less than 3 months ago. He'd been so
cared for, I thought maybe his slaves had found him, when I stopped
seeing him around. He couldn't have weighed 4 pounds now. I could
feel his little bones, and he obviously had a respiratory thing.

I called my own TED, and asked if I could bring him in. Thinking, URI
and some dehydration, and I'd have the Bengal cat I've been wanting.
I wrapped him in a clean, soft towel, and off to the vet we went. Me
crying, asking *whoever* to please protect the little one, to not take
two from me, within three weeks.

We waited in the room for her to finish her surgery. I was given a
bowl of water, and a little 'dropper', to see if he'd (we realized he
was intact) drink water. He would. Everytime I moved my hands away,
he'd crawl over to lie on my left hand, while I droppered water into
his mouth, with my right.

He had the eyes of my Tuppence (RB 05). He looked so tired. I knew,
even then. I hoped, I cried, I begged him to be alright. I begged
him to just have an infection that I could treat. I told him that I
would take care of him, and I'd treat him the way he appeared to
deserve.

The vet came in. She told me that he was very anemic (his gums were
nearly white). She said it's a kindness to let him go. I said,
please do blood work. I want to know if it's beyond help before I
decide to send him on his way. She did as I asked.

I sat with him, and talked to him, told him how beautiful he was, how
much I would love him, if only he would be alright, so I could take
him home. The vet came back. Bad news. His red cells were so low,
that even an infusion would probably not save him. His clotting
factor was non-existent (dont' remember what she said it was). She
said, again, it's a kindness to let him go.

We sat for a time. I told him what a good boy he'd been. I told him
how I looked for him everyday, because he was so handsome. I told him
that I wanted to pet him from the moment I first laid eyes on him. I
pet him, and I held him close to me. When the vet came back in, I
told her we were ready.

As she shaved his leg, I told him that Tuppence, Nicodemus, Madison,
and Piewackett (to name a few) would be waiting for him. I told him
to look for Pretty Face and Chief and Sam and Snuggums and Pookie and
Big Mouth and too many other ferals and strays to recall. I told him
that I would be looking for him, when it was my turn to walk that
way. I asked him if he saw Little Foot to tell him that I tried very
hard to protect him, and I was so sorry I hadn't, but that I loved
him.

I held his head, off the cold steel table, so that he wouldn't have
some that hard as his last memory. I stroke his back and tummy as the
vet sent him on his final journey. I told him that I would miss him,
even though I hardly knew him. And I cried. Harder than I have every
cried for any of the others. Maybe because I knew the others had been
shown love and caring by me, because they all knew that I wanted to
protect and keep them warm. He didn't know those things from me.

It was a long, hard ride in, with worry. It was a long, desperately
sad ride home, without him. My spirit is broken, I can do no more.

Smokie Darling (Annie)