Rus Articles Journal

Roadkill: a case from practice or how to help vagrant animals?

her yellow eyes, in fatally tired turn of the head, all on a fraction of a second caught my amazed look, still pursue, look in me, inside, there where there has to be still something once called heart, or still somehow so. I in vain drive away from myself these two yellow eyes, I try to think of something cheerful, about pleasant and ridiculous. For example, about casual sex or about spring weather, or about what. But they, this two yellow, louring fire, look strongly in me, unpleasantly pierce and remain as burns, forcing screws up the face from pain. I will feel ill at ease again. And again it is burningly sick, and unclear tears gather in the eyes … then it almost did not notice

Ya. As usual, ran for work, and only untidily white spot on the first spring grass absolutely incidentally caught my eye. I looked narrowly. Cat. Thrown out on a roadside by car. Strongly, fatally wounded. Obviously, she crawled away to a fence and was pressed in it by all the wounded body which is not able to move further. The hinder legs which are turned out outside, crimson naked meat, a clotted blood. And only eyes … the yellow, alerted and already covered by a muddy veil death … It was obvious that the wound is fatal, and the countdown already began.

Passersby, as well as I, ran by for work, only the most not fastidious of them for a moment glanced at the blood-stained lump pressed in a fence and, having frowned from an unpleasant show, hurried further. For work. On affairs. On affairs. On affairs …

you Will think, a cat! How many they perish under wheels of cars? Thousands! But if the dead far statistics of thousands of crushed and crippled animals almost did not disturb, then this, the unique, still holding the crippled body cat`s soul, concerned, revolted, tormented.

At business work quickly forced me to forget about a cat. I think that affairs, probably, would force me and the mother to forget, be they are wrong. However on the way back, approaching that fence, the exciting image recured to my memory again, and finally spoiled mood. I hoped that the animal already kicked off. Or that the wound was not so dangerous and it is possible … Or that someone already took care about is mute … Or, or, or … In vain. It was on the same place, and now, already attentively, I could consider its wounds. It was obvious that nothing will help it any more, and remains only hopes that god or who there, above, will take pity over a poor creature and will finish off it somewhat quicker. It was necessary to hope, as always, for someone …

This time all road I puzzled over how it is possible to help it. All forty minutes I consoled myself in search of rescue of her life, the help and relief of her suffering though from the very beginning understood that, except how to finish off it in the same place on the place, I can help it nothing. And I did not decide to deal shortly with her. Would not manage. Would not want. Would not dare …

Once, two years ago, almost on the same place, I picked up a wounded kitten and brought it home. The kitten was tiny, a wound not deadly and therefore he survived. Everything was simple. The nature itself took care of the one who was necessary to it. And now I understood that it is simple to help nothing cannot. Just because all late is also irreversible.

In the evening I got rid these thoughts, but for the morning having again appeared on that place, everything returned again. The cat though already also did not look the yellow eyes on going by, was still live! Its sides rose, and it even raised the head, having semi-opened eyes … I felt ill at ease. She did not want to die! There passed two days, and she still lived!

Having come to work, I first of all took an interest as it is possible to call service of rescue of animals. In the city I was recently and therefore did not know much. It became clear that there is no such service in the city. Then, having learned number of one of veterinary clinics, I called there. There I was not understood at first. “What? It not your animal? Fatally wounded? And you want that we lulled him? Sorry, we do not render such services“. And beeps …

Then I took the friend and tried to learn whether it has acquaintances ready for a payment to arrive and lull a cat. Acquaintances did not appear. And I had to postpone searches of the help until the termination of the working day.

In the evening, passing by a fence, I did not keep, and with fragile heart, approached that place, in hope again that it … was already dead. No, away! Home, why to me all this is necessary?! Home, there will also be enough snivels! You will think, some cat! Even not mine! Others, vagrant … And still I approached … The cat was live “again“! She did not want to give up in any way! Spoiled, eaten alive by spring ants, having pressed in a dirty concrete fence, it, not clear why, clung for the ninth, the last, cat`s life and did not wish to leave!

I dialed number of veterinary clinic again. And again misunderstanding of a question. Yes that they there, absolutely grew dull! That here not clear! The animal was hit by the car and that it did not suffer it it is necessary just to lull! To give an injection! Or to smash the head a shovel! Or still that! That here unclear!

“Sorry, we do not render such services“ … Pip - Pip - Pip … Services.

By there were people. Men and women. Children and old men. Some turned the head. Some are not present. Someone hurried home. Someone laughed. Someone, on the contrary, longed. And all passed by. By. BY. BY.

Passed by and I. Just went a quick step further, having decided never to come back there any more, and already in half an hour forgot about an event with me, about any there cat who slowly and painfully died under a fence, and could not die in any way. And only two yellow eyes looking fixedly to me in the face, through, still are remembered to me in the evenings. Also rise before me as fiery eyes - saucers of fantastic black cats from andersenovsky “Ogniva“. And again I feel ill at ease. And again I am the little frightened boy, and me as in the childhood, there is a wish to run and be stuck into warm mother`s hands and loudly, at the top of the voice, to begin to sob as once I sobbed about cine White Bim. To sob out all the unclear pain. The despair. The disagreement with dishonest death. Only there are no warm mother`s hands any more. And White Bim died long ago. However, as well as of that time I.