Dear Collegetown resident,
I don't know if you still live in Collegetown. I know you left your cat behind. Maybe you graduated, and went on to your shiny and bright future, without a backwards glance at the cat you once professed to love? Was it his gigantic feet that made him an adorably goofy kitten? They are still long and lanky, but less cute now that they are crusted with mud. Or was it how fluffy he was? Without anyone to brush him, he became so matted that it hurt him to walk.
And that's how he was when we found him. Nose running like a faucet. Mincing along gingerly and in pain. Unable to fully stretch the way a cat should. There's no way he could hunt like that, so he probably mostly survived off of trash. Maybe that's what made him so sick. He was passing blood; maybe because his guts were full of garbage. There was no one to take notice of him with you gone. And what reason did he have to trust people now?
So today, I killed your cat for you. Because after too long on the streets, he was dying and in pain. Instead of living the rest of his life with a family that loved him, or passing of old age safe and warm, he was euthanized on a steel table that was probably the cleanest thing he's rested on since you threw him away. There's no sugar coating this. He hurt too much to walk a foot and a half to use the litter box, so he just peed where he lay. And I can say that now he's crossed the Rainbow Bridge, and is at peace, but the truth is, that you gave him no choice other than to die. And I cared more about his comfort at the end that you ever will.
With a sincere fuck you,
The Captain of Browncoat Cat is a self proclaimed crazy cat lady. Of course, we're all mad here...