Atticus Finch

On Saturday night, I was headed downtown to meet friends for dinner when I got a call from the Emergency Veterinary Hospital, saying they had my cat Atticus and he had been hit by a car. Tears welled up in my eyes the second they said those words, and I drove right over.

When I adopted him as a kitten, the shelter I got him from implanted a microchip in him, so the vet was able to track me down as a result. The phone number they had was out of date, but luckily I had listed my mom as an alternate contact, so they got a hold of her first. As soon as I got off the phone with the vet, my mom was calling to say she was on her way over too.

They let us into one of the exam rooms and brought Atticus out. By the time we got to see him he had been given some pain medication, and was wrapped up in a purple towel and lying on top of a heating pad to bring up his temperature. He was in shock.

We got to wait with him for about an hour, all while waiting for a vet to do an examination and see what was going on. I knew from the second I saw him, things did not look good. I'll never forget seeing him lying on the table in that towel, all four legs splayed out, because he could not put any weight on them. For the hour my mom and I waited in that room, he just lied there, occasionally looking at me, and often times just putting his head down and closing his eyes. It was heartbreaking. I kept rubbing his head and trying to let him know I was there.

After what felt like forever, the vet took him away to do an exam. I knew not to expect good news, but when he came back and said "I have bad news for you" my heart sank anyway. I don't think I stopped crying for the next 2 hours. Atticus had shattered his pelvis, injured his spine, and was showing neurological symptoms that indicated there was nothing anyone could do.

A few minutes later I was alone in a room with Atticus saying my goodbyes. He had a tiny IV in his paw, and would be given an injection that would put him to sleep. I put my nose up to his, like I do when I'm carrying him in my arms, and tried desperately to let him know I was there with him. Then he was given a needle and taken away. My poor baby.

Atticus was an absolutely amazing cat. I know everyone says that about their cats, but that's because we all love them so completely. I have so many amazing memories of him.  Most recently I've been completely in love with the way he sits beside Doug on the couch, and always rests his paw over Doug's arm while he's playing xbox. Or how him & Boo will run beside me while I'm walking Pepper, darting across neighbours' lawns and through bushes.  Lately, Atticus had taken to catching birds & mice, and then waiting patiently with them for me to open the front door. As soon as I did, he would charge at the door, bird in mouth, and try to sneak past me.  This always resulted in me screaming and trying to shoo him away. Man, good times.

When I adopted Atticus, I had gone to the shelter because I saw a picture of his brother, Boo and fell in love. When I arrived, Boo was terrified of people and scared to move out of his crate. Atticus practically burst forth from the crate and climbed into my arms and immediately started purring. I decided to take them both home. From day one, that has been his personality. Scared of no one, constantly purring, and always looking to cuddle. He's also been an amazing brother to Boo, teaching him to hunt outside, fending off Pepper for him, and generally being adorable. I keep looking at Boo now, trying to figure out if he has any sense that Atticus is gone. I've been giving him extra special pets and cuddles.

It's been a rough weekend, made rougher by the fact that Doug is away in England until Friday, and was sound asleep while all this was happening. I'm so thankful the vet called my mom's house first, because I probably would have gone there alone otherwise, and been even more of a wreck. I am still a wreck, but at least I wasn't alone. Good friends have also been amazingly supportive throughout this super sad time.

Through all of this, I can't stop thinking about how lucky I am that my cats had microchips implanted in them. Atticus had only been outside for a couple of hours when this happened, and without the phone call, I wouldn't have even been concerned until he didn't return home today. By that time, he would have already been put to sleep and the animal hospital would probably have no record of him. I would have never known what happened to my poor kitty, and he would have been alone. I am endlessly comforted that I got to be there with him in the end.

P.S. I know people have very strong opinions about indoor and outdoor cats, but can I please please please ask that this not be to the time to leave comments about them.