The feeder, Aunty S, suggested to prop the carrier vertically upright with its gate open so that when she's got hold of the tabby, she could put him in swiftly while I'd force the door of the carrier shut, in case the cat bolts its way out upwards. Our black-tabby with white socks is only familiar and friendly with his stray feeder, that's how wary he is.
So Saturday 4am, we decided to carry this out, perhaps in our final attempt, to catch black-tabby. I completely overslept and awoke nearly one hour after our stipulated time, drove to the feeding point, found the strayfeeder gone and drove to her home.
In good cheer, Aunty S carried out her post-feeding morning chores and with a smile, she told me there's no need to send black-tabby to the vet clinic anymore for he's recovered so much that he now eats twice the amount than when he was down with the injured lip. Thanks to Bonjela, the cream we use to treat mouth ulcers. Aunty gave it a try by dabbing a minute amount on tabby's lips, and it worked!
On Pommy's front: our Pomeranian look-alike is definitely looking good and doing well. It seems that after the infection on his wound, our boy has lost some weight, not just visually, but tactile-wise, when we felt his markedly protruding ribs.
In the clean, sterile environment of the clinic, Pommy's wound looks so much better and he seems to be adapting so well to the ward. Big thanks to J and Y for assisting with tending to Pommy; we took him out of his cage and cleaned him up a bit. The discharge around his eyes, [removed] a giant mother tick on his back, a few baby ticks on his ears, dirt in his dense pomeranian-like fur.
And probably with all the fingers and hands stroking him, Pommy almost fell asleep, droopy-eyed, tucked into J's laps. Ah, so lovely!
Even when his injury seems unsightly, Pommy is most powered up by boiled chicken shreds we fed him with. Eagerly, he moved about at the fragrance of the meat. Ambitiously, he ate from our hands, wolfing the shreds in nanoseconds.
On the same day, we phoned Uncle to give him updates on Pommy and the costs involved in this. Flatly, he told us he does not want to take Pommy back anymore for the sheer cost and time involved in taking care of him. In the long run of things, he doesn't see himself committing to Pommy.
Strange enough, he's happy that Pommy is alive and kicking for in bright spirits, he actually went around telling his neighbours (other farmers), "My dog didn't die. He is alive, he is alive!"
At times, we will never be able to make sense of how Uncle and his generation of farmers approach animals and animal life -- be it functional dogs to guard their farms or pet dogs to keep their grandchildren company. His is a generation of:
* It doesn't matter if dogs are chained up in the day. They are born to be tough.
* Table scraps of vegetable stalks, fish tails, prawn heads, mixed with porridge or wet rice -- dogs can survive on these.
* It's cruel and defies the order of nature to spay cats; let the mother cat give birth to her litters. I have use of these cats to keep rats out of my premises.
I'm still grappling with the chasm between them and the league of animal advocates I know of. And grappling with how to educate him on the ethical treatment of animals.
2 comments:
hope that Pommy is doing well...
glad that Pommy is fine now. Is he up for adoption?
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