Even when you know it’s the right thing to do, it still hurts

 

Even though Will got ten more years of doting attention by his keepers, than nature would have given him, it’s still hard to say, “good bye.”

 

When Will was found in August 2007 he was only a month old, but we knew right away that something was seriously wrong with him.  We hoped it was just that he was sick and starved; abandoned by his mother, and that with a little TLC he’d recover into the hissing spitfire that all wild bobcats are.  He gained weight and grew a glossy coat to match his beautiful, shiny eyes, but he never developed a bobcat personality.

 

We thought he was blind because of his docile, non inquisitive nature, so experts in neurology and ophthalmology visited with him over the years.  The function of his eyes was fine, but there was just something missing in the translation to his brain.  He would walk into walls and just always seemed to be in his own little world.

 

That worked for him until about a year ago when his health began to decline.  Vets tried every imaginable combination of drugs and supplements to keep him strong, but in these last few weeks, we have had to start poking him with needles to keep him hydrated and while he tolerates it, he doesn’t like it.  Who would?

 

If we keep him in the Cat Hospital he will eat enough of the watery gruel we make to keep him hydrated, but when he goes back outside he won’t eat well enough to survive.  We have been watching him closely, with CCTV, to make sure he isn’t suffering and what we have found is that we just can’t know how much pain he’s in because he just doesn’t behave like a normal cat.

 

What we do know is that we’ve exhausted every course of veterinary care for him and he’s never going to get better.  If his whole life is comprised of living in a small cage, where his irritable bowel syndrome results in soiled bedding every couple hours, then that’s just not a life worth living.  Coming to the decision that it was time to end his suffering was especially hard because he does eat OK, in that environment.  The issue is that we just can’t tell what his experience is because he doesn’t show any emotion.

 

To touch him was to make the final decision for him.  He isn’t grooming and he’s just skin and bones, despite his food consumption.   You could just feel the lifelessness in him and cutting the fine cord that bridged the difference in this world and the next felt like the right thing to do.

 

Will has always been “special” and like Mrs. Claws, who also isn’t quite right in the head, it makes us feel that much more protective of them.  Letting go is hard and leaves us all feeling like there must have been something more we could have done.

 

Why did we cooperate with a zoo?

This is Howie’s version of my letter, which became the public record.  Good thing I have such an excellent press secretary.

 

Some of you think I’ve lost my mind, or lost my way, and have asked me to explain why we would accept Manny Jaguar and Nat Leopard from a zoo and not require them to give up having any exotic cats.  I wish I could say this in a sound bite that’s easy to share with those asking you this question, but like most things that are important, it just can’t be explained without painting the full picture.

 

In the last issue of our Big Cat Times we published an article talking about the accelerating and exciting positive evolution of how society is viewing the treatment of exotic animals. We drew an analogy to the decades long struggle for women’s suffrage 100 years ago that started with a few “crazies” who were ridiculed, beaten, and jailed. Over a period of 72 years support at first grew slowly, then accelerated.  Finally their ideas became mainstream and they prevailed with the 1920 Constitutional Amendment.  The article talked about how this same pattern was repeating itself in the arena of animal welfare and gave examples. 

 

The AZA is slowly becoming part of that evolution. While there