(Posted by Bill Schafer)
Bill Schafer here.
We lost Ben earlier this week, to some unforseen cardiac difficulties. My business partner, Tim, found him downstairs on Tuesday night, stretched out peacefully. Into the freezer Ben went for the night, a final trip to be cremated the next morning.
Ben came to us seven years ago. (He was only eight when he died.) He was hanging around my brother’s in-law’s barn, one of his hind legs so severely infected and damaged that it hung there, like rotting meat. The in-laws would check on Ben every day to see if he was still alive, but didn’t see fit to feed him or give him any care.
When my brother mentioned the stray, I saw Ben to my vet’s, credit card in tow, with the words “fix him.”
He gave us seven great years, of purring and playing, soft fur and an even softer miaow. He killed regularly when he was allowed outdoors, a privilege he demanded every few days. I imagine there are squirrels and chipmunks breathing sighs of relief right now.
Be kind to our furry brethren. Sometimes they’re not with us as long as we’d like.