Shelter Stories
In the cat shelter where I work, we’re surrounded by hard luck cases. Some are easier to deal with than others; some make me want to go home, curl up in bed with my head under the duvet, and never come out. Above my desk is a photograph. It was taken about two weeks ago, and sent into us. It is a grey and white tuxedo cat named Mylo. Mylo’s adoptive Mummy sent it in. She found him, covered in dirt and bite marks, and brought him in. Based on the bites, we think Mylo was used as bait for dog-fighting. We don’t have proof; of course, we just know what we saw, and what it looked like. He was then buried alive—we know this, because of the way he was completely caked in dirt. Poor kitty had to be shaved down almost to the skin to get all the dirt off so the vet could stitch him up and clean up his wounds. The lady who found him adopted him after his rather intensive recovery. He’s now making a home with her and her other kitty, and is happy as can be. Another