RedBoy - In Loving Memory of a Forgotten Little Feral ~ Pawprints and Purrs, Inc.

March 6, 2000: Our neighborhood is over-run with ferals. Once, some twenty years ago when my parents first bought this place where Craig and I now live, one never saw a cat or dog unless the animal was in his own yard. Somewhere down through the years, some irresponsible person(s) decided it was "uncool" to spay/neuter or for some ungodly excuse, got rid of their cat by dumping him or her out here in the quiet rurals. And so, the feral population has grown tremendously.

Craig and I do what we can knowing if we feed them, they become our responsibility. We continue to reach deep into our pockets for food and vet care for these unwanted, unloved cats and their offspring. Here in the Deep South, kitten season has been upon us for a full month, so we know the cats who haven't yet been trapped, spayed, neutered, vaccinated, and released will be bringing more kittens soon to our food and water dishes. But it's something we MUST do - we cannot and will not watch these cats and kittens starve to death or die off frightened and alone with horrible, deadly diseases. It's our neighborhood: we pride ourselves in our property and we care enough about animals that we'll do more than our share to help control the feral population.

One little cat we've been feeding I'd dubbed RedBoy. He had been a shy, but cunning little man. He ran like a streak of greased lightning - he watched us from a great distance when we put out the food and water, but never had let us get within 20 yards of him. But patience and determination are the backbone of all feral cat workers. Without those two qualities in one's character, one won't last a first kitten season.

In the last two months, RedBoy had been slowly slipping closer to the feeding area, getting closer and closer in our presence. He gradually began to trust us. And in the end, trust of humans is what killed this beautiful, golden-eyed orange and white young cat. A cat who should have had years and years of good food, proper shelter, routine vet visits, plenty of catnip and toys, and much, much love.

Today, March 6, when I went to the mailbox after the postman had run, I found him on his side in the right-a-way of our property. He had been thrown into the drainage ditch, his battered little body badly beaten and broken. Somehow, somewhere, he trusted someone to get close enough to him to be beaten to death.

Craig was at work; the little cat had to be buried. I couldn't let him lay out in our yard waiting for Craig to arrive home late this evening. I don't know how I managed to dig his grave and get him properly buried with a few spoken words of love and little endearments he will never, never hear, but somehow I did. I only know now that RedBoy's at the Rainbow Bridge where there's no evil, cruel bastard to inflict pain and horrendous death on innocent cats; cats who never asked to be born into this world of self-serving humans.

Note - March 13, 2000: I wish to express my appreciation and thanks to the internet community who has read of RedBoy, taking the time to email me with words of consolation. You will never know just how your emails and cards have touched me. Thank you so much for your prayers and the thoughtfulness each of you have shown; but most of all, thanks for caring about a frightened, forgotten little feral who deserved a better life in our world. I'd also like to thank a very, very special lady and long-time friend, Franny Syufy for letting me borrow for RedBoy's memorial, her image of an orange kitty which looks so much like him. I hope that you stop by Franny's site to read a deeply moving article she wrote after learning of his brutal death. Thank you, Franny, for the love and support you have given Craig and me during the anguishing ordeal of RedBoy's loss.