Brave, or known to me and my sister as 'Bravey-boy' had to be put down today. He was 13 and we had known him since we were little and he was little, too. His name is Brave because out of the three kittens he was born with, they all ran away, and he came back. That, and he survived two car accidents. An amazing cat indeed.
Basically the owner left him to rot away. He got cancer (which he had had for ages, but because she didn't ever take him to the vet we only found out a few days ago), his mouth got so badly infected he couldn't close it or eat anything, his tongue was swollen, he got mange, he got thin, and he was drooling blood and couldn't walk. We had been caring for this cat with my neighbours for the last three months but there is only so much we can do.
Me and my family brought him special food to eat, we repeatedly told the owner to take him to the vets, we brought him fur-spray to stop him itching and we gave him a blanket to sleep on. The owner did nothing at all to help him, ignored us when we knocked, and when we met her on the street acted hostile, saying she had taken him to the vets. We took pictures and reported her over and over again, and the people came to the cat over and over again, and she'd always lie, even when we told them and showed them pictures of the cats condition.
Today when we saw him covered in blood and sitting on the window sill, skinny as hell and crying, me, my mother and my neighbour banged down the door, and told her that she needs to have that cat put down. We love him.... but he can't live like that. And so we were the ones that called the vet because apparently, sleep is more important to her than her pet.
But then again, she used to take care of Brave years back.... until she got a Pit bull. Which has attacked her neighbours and is blatantly used as a fighting dog.
I remember, when I was little, he always had the cutest eyes. His expression was always like 'OwO' and he had little fear of anything. He never wanted food from us but we gave it to him anyway, and even then half of the time he'd prefer to sit on our kitchen floor. Me and Ellesse brought him his first collar when he was younger. He was a pure bred mackerel tabby too, his coat was always so damn pretty, we used to laugh and say to our old cat, 'Hey, Coco, why can't you be pretty as Bravey-boy?' And Coco would sit by him like two old men, staring. It was so cute. He always had this real cute meow too, it would be raining hard and at the front window we'd here 'MREEEEOOOWWWWW!' and we'd know it was him, and he could stay in our house until it was not raining. I am going to miss him. So much. He was like our cat more than hers...
I have the damn pictures of what condition he was in. I have them because we sent them to the animal agency so he could be taken away. I'd put them here... but they are distressing, and I'd rather not lot anyone see unless they REALLY wanted to see the cruelty. People are horrible things some times.
Well Brave, looks like you outlived my old boy by a year.
Congrats baby. Sorry we couldn't save you.