So, a couple weeks ago I told a tall tale about my experience calling a shelter to get a kitty spayed.
That kitty was named Dip. I used to post photos of Dip last fall when I would let her into my house- perhaps ill-advised, as she vomited on just about every piece of fabric I own. She also would bump into stuff when she was trying to look cute, and fell off my couch more than once.
Dip is short for Dipshit. A loving, lovely animal, but kind of a moron.
I let her out one day in December, and then for a few months I didn’t see her at all. I assumed she had run off to find shelter, or maybe the winter got her.
Then, when the weather warmed up, who shows up on my doorstep but little Dip. A pregnant little Dip. With the help of a friend, I was able to schedule this sweet little baby for a vet check-up and a spay.
I had to cancel that appointment. Last night, my neighbors came up to me and told me they’d found her laying in the street. At some point during the day, Dip died. We couldn’t tell if she was sick, if she had complications with pregnancy (she was very small and had a lot of kittens growing inside her), or if the heat was too much, a car hit her, or some combination of the above. Jilly and I buried her in the empty lot across the street from my house.
I’ll never know what happened to her, but I do know that she deserved better. That was a good kitty. I’m going to miss her a lot.