He came as a stray, unfriendly and refusing me the privilege to touch him. Each morning, as I fed the other feral cats, I’d take him out his share of breakfast, only to be met with hisses, as if warning me not to get too close. Ignoring him, I’d set the food bowl down in front of him before walking away to give him space. He was truly a unique looking cat. Long black and white fur, his ears were small and rounded like a Scottish Fold and his eyes were small and yellow. That was my reason for naming him Mr. Peepers.
Mr. Peepers had major trust issues and no matter what I did, there was no changing him. It was obvious Peeps had experienced enough cruelty in the world to have learned not to trust any human. It was a cold, damp morning when I looked out my kitchen window and found him standing in the courtyard after a long absence and he was extremely sick. He was nothing but skin and bones and his nose was crusted over with dry mucous, unable to smell. Not wanting to spook him, I sat down on a porch step, encouraging him to come to me. Weak, he made his way to where I was and climbed into my lap as if knowing he had found a human he could finally trust. I cleaned his nose and face before wrapping him in a blanket, placing him in a makeshift bed, warmed with a heating pad.
I took him to the vets and was told that Peeps had a fractured palate and because of the injury, he’d always have respiratory infections.
This last weekend, Mr. Peepers got sick again and it was the worst I’d witnessed with him in the past. He had put his trust me and today I did the only thing left to do in order to ease his pain. I let him go. My heart is one huge hurt right now and I’ve cried most of the afternoon but my Mister Peepers is no longer suffering.