The summer of 2003 was hot, suffering from a heatwave that hit Britain. The meadow that we live opposite looked like the Plains, as the cattle grazed upon the ill-looking grass. Everyone was in their shorts and thin tops, trying to shelter from the sweltering heat. Our cat was loosing his fur, trying to mault, so he could be cooler.
Our houses' colour was looking white and flaky, and as we walked past a painted in our nearby town, we had given in, and asked him if he could paint out house. He came over the next few days and started work. It looked great at the start; it reminded me, and still does, or rich vanilla ice-cream, excluding the black bits.
Whilst the painted was around painting our house, Charlie kept leaving out house longer and longer each day, to chase all of the rabbits and mice in the field. He sometimes wouldnt come in until early morning
for half an hour, before trotting on outside again. We barely saw him.
It came to a friday, when my parents came down the stairs with some posters. I asked what they were for, as I was puzzled, and couldnt work out why it said 'Missing' and a picture of our beloved cat on it. They explained to say that he hasnt been in and touched his food in four days. We all hadn't seen him since a tuesday evening.
for half an hour, before trotting on outside again. We barely saw him.It came to a friday, when my parents came down the stairs with some posters. I asked what they were for, as I was puzzled, and couldnt work out why it said 'Missing' and a picture of our beloved cat on it. They explained to say that he hasnt been in and touched his food in four days. We all hadn't seen him since a tuesday evening.
It took time to sink in - I mean, how could our cat be lost? He usually always comes back, he isn't that sort of cat.
The time flew by, as we were worrying more and more each day. On the following sunday, me and my step-dad, Paul, went for a walk around the whole of the village, whistling him (we have a special whistle, that everytime we do it, he rushes to us, because it means food!) and called his name, but no reply was heard...
However, day eleven reached, and as wesat at home, we lost hope. We didnt know what to do really. You never know how much you love something until its gone... We were talking about getting cute, white fluffy female kittens, with bright ble eyes to die for. But it wouldnt of been the same... But a man, came legging it up our driveway, and when he reached our door, he was out of breath. He had found Charlie! At first, we dismissed the idea - he wouldnt be alive now... But he was.We ran as fast as we could back down to the man's house, and into the garden. He led us over to his flowerbed, and under a big tree. It was the most awful sight. It was absolutely horrible. His back left leg was trapped in a ginge trap (one of those traps that catch rabbits and foxes, they have been illegal for over 30 years). No one knows how on earth it had gotten there. His leg was completely shattered, and his other back leg nearly had a hole in it from the stones he was lying on. Also, the whole of his body was beeing eaten alive by maggots.
Since it was a sunday, we still phoned the vet. He was so good, he came in from his sunday roast, and at the vet, they were trying to work out how to get the trap off. After ten minutes, it broke free. Charlie's leg was as g
ood as gone. He still got up and walked around though, even though there was nothing of it, he hopped.
ood as gone. He still got up and walked around though, even though there was nothing of it, he hopped. We didnt think there was any way to save him, but there was - he sacrificed one of his legs. We didnt care, we all just wanted our baby back. But the operation was a success. They had to shave from halfway up his body, down to the tip of his tail, to rid of the maggots. he was such a sorry sight.
He stayed in for two more days, and when he came home, he would not leave our side. This story is bringing back painful memories to me. The moment he saw me for the first time, he meowed and meowed and came running over, hobbling on his feeble back leg. I cried and cried and hugged him, never wanting to let go. he didnt want to either!
We bo ught him lots of toys, and he got up and down the stairs easy peasy. Every night was hard, we wouldnt let us go or anything. After quite a few weeks we let him outside for the first time, which he loved! His little stump looked like a Cornish Pasty as he jumped about, pleased to be outside again!
His fir grew all back eventually, and now he is as good as ever, catching birds, and mice, scratching his scratching post... He doesnt care he only has one back leg. Infact, he is as happy as ever, and I doubt he misses it!
His story is famous around all of our village, he is probably the most pleasant cat you have ever come across, too. I love him to bits, even if he is a bit of a freak! :-)
