The Cassandra Complex

I had my cat, Melody, put down today.

I'd had her for fifteen years. She was an impulse purchase on my mother's part, a couple of months before Christmas - her and I were looking at the kittens in the pet shop window and I suggested jokingly that she buy me a kitten for Christmas. To my shock, she did. This despite the fact that she is allergic to cats; it seems that she's not allergic to kittens, so she thought when she didn't react to Melody that that meant she would be ok with her.

Of course, it doesn't work that way, and when Melody got older mum started to react to her. So did I. Seems I inherited the allergies.

I can't remember why I called her Melody. But it suited her for the most part - a dainty, petite little thing. It didn't suit her personality so much though; when she miaowed it was really loud, and she figured out early on how to scratch glass or rattle screen doors to get a reaction.

Despite the fact I am allergic to cats, she used to sleep on the end of my bed. But once I bought my own place and moved out, my allergies got worse, and Melody decided that she preferred to be an outside cat - if I had her inside, she'd ignore the litter tray. Not pretty.

I think maybe she might have liked to continue sleeping on the end of my bed in winter, though. It gets cold at night in Canberra. And I think she might have liked more frequent scratches or cuddles ... on her terms of course. But if I did I'd suffer for it later. And she seemed happy enough outside.

Yesterday I went outside to emtpy the bin and I saw that she'd somehow managed to get her front left leg stuck through her collar. It was one of those ones with elastic so that if the cat catches it on something it stretches and they can get out. Instead, Melody seems to have tried to go through it rather than backing out of it.

When I took the collar off I saw the elastic had cut quite deeply into her skin under her leg. It smelled bad. She didn't seem to be in pain - she wasn't limping - but it didn't look good. I also noticed that despite the fact she was getting fed twice a day, she was awfully thin. That scared me almost as much as the cut, because it didn't make sense.

So I took her to the vet this morning. They said that with surgery and a long stay there (because I couldn't look after her inside while she was recovering, because of my allergies, she'd have had to board), it was treatable. But it seemed cruel to me to put her through all that, and then just chuck her back outside, into the cold. Where something else could happen to her, and because she's an outdoor cat, I might not notice for a day again, like this time.

So I decided to have her put down.

I feel rotten about it. I wish that things could've been different; that Melody could've continued to sleep on the end of my bed at night, and bask in the sun coming in the windows in winter (they face north and get good sun; ideal cat basking territory). I did try and get the allergies treated - weekly injections for a couple of years. It didn't help.

If there's a kitty heaven, I imagine it consists of a huge bed in a sunny window, lots of small animals to terrorise, and a bottomless bowl of cat food.

She'll love it there.