The good news is that there not that much wrong with him! He had a bad case of mites, which left his skin rashy (and must have been awful for him), and the bald patch was all that remained of a wound that had abscessed and healed. (Amazing – that alone can kill a feral cat.) So he’s been through the wringer, but is now on the mend! The bad news is that he is FIV+, which means I can’t in good conscience release him back to the ravine. Oy.
Oddly, FIV+ seems kind of minor, compared to the last two cats I trapped: Big Mike (life-threatening leg wounds that took six months to heal) and Ginger Rogers (terminal mouth cancer.) So I held my breath during his appointment, for fear he would also have something terrible and long-term. Thanks for the break, Saint Francis! Now I just need to figure out what to do with this sweet boy once he is back to health. This inn is FULL.
Here he is just now, sleeping like a stone on his new plush pad. I feel bad he’s been so worked over in recent days, but know it’s the first block in building his better future.
“Someone get the license number of that truck that hit me!!”
