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007- Heaven

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September 11th is always a sad day, each and every year. It's filled with sorrow for those who were lost due to the terrorist attacks... but September 11th has become so much more special to me now... because now it holds the memory of my beloved friend, Pasha.

We all know that I work at an animal shelter. We are NOT a no kill shelter... but we do have regulations on what animals we humanely euthinize. Those who are "unhealthy" by county standards are the ones who are put down... this means that the animal is either sick to the point where it's better for them to be put down, rather then suffer; or it means the animal is overly aggressive, and there's just no way for us to rehabilitate it to the point where we could put it in our program and have it adopted out.

Pasha was neither of those things.

Pasha was a wonderful, 2 year old, male cat whom had been with us for months. I loved him dearly, and although he could be a pain in my hind sometimes, I treasured every moment I spent with him. I get attached to a lot of animals at the shelter, but Pasha was truely special. I realized this when he was adopted. His trip home meant that his cage would be empty for a while until another cat came in; and it was odd how much I noticed his dissapearance. When a cat goes home, or any animal for that matter, I'm normally filled with joy to see their cage is empty, because that means they've got someone who will love them... but not with Pasha... I missed him, and I felt empty each time I entered the Cat Room to find he wasn't there.

2 days later he returned to us.

His owner brought him back as a "bite case".

I don't know the whole story, but I do know that Pasha was NOT a bite case. I had spent plenty of time around Pasha, and he had never growled, hissed, flicked his tail in annoyance, or even pinned his ears back at me, any cat, or any other person whom had ever entered the Cat Room.

Pasha bit when he played, and he gave love nips. And that was it. That was Pasha, it's what he did; it's what many many other cats do.

But we, as a shelter, had to listen to the owner, just in case there was a 1% chance that Pasha could have gone home and acted differently then the way he behaved in the shelter.

So Pasha sat in holding, alone, for 2 weeks. Sure, there were some other cats back there, but Pasha was a social butterfly, and he loved being in the Cat room where other people would walk by; where he could stick his paws out, and roll over, and beg for attention. No one walked through holding... he was in Isolation, away from everyone unless his cage was being cleaned in the morning.

I could see how he was different in holding. Sure, he was the same old Pasha I grew to love; he was still playful, he was still loving, and his eyes still glowed with the brilliance that just told you he loved every minute of his life, no matter where he was. But he was still upset that no one came to visit him as often... you could just see it by the way he spent half of his time sleeping. In the Cat Room, Pasha never slept (not while there were people to love, anyways).

Monday, I went into holding to help Joelle clean back there. She gave me the task of cleaning the cat cages, which I was very happy about; because it gave me a reason to take Pasha out. Of course, Pasha had to wait his turn, but when I got to him, I made sure to hold him, and cuddle him; pet him, and love him with all of my heart, just like I would do on any day I had the chance to see him in the Cat Room.

He loved every minute of it, and I held onto him for as long as I could before I had to put him in his box to clean his cage. Once I took him out again, I gave him one last hug, a quick kiss, and a quiet "I love you, Pasha", before putting him back. He gave me a few kisses and a quick nibble on my finger before I moved on to the next cage.

Little did I know that it would be the last time I'd see Pasha.

I had begged my grandparents for 2 weeks, ever since Pasha came back to the shelter, to let me adopt him... but they told me strictly that they didn't want another cat in the house. No matter how I begged, the answer was the same each and every time.

And when I went into work on Tuesday, I realized as I went to visit Pasha, that his cage was empty. I quickly asked Brin, whom had been in Holding when I walked in, where he had went. "Is be being put down... or... did he go to a rescue?"

"The first one..." She said, seemingly a bit ashamed by the answer.

I didn't even have time to see him again... the light to the quiet room was already on, which meant no one was allowed to go in... his box wasn't even in the hallway anymore... it had been done, and there was nothing I could do to save him.

I wanted him so bad... I wanted to bring him home, and there was nothing I could do. He sat in holding for two weeks, two long weeks, waiting to be reevaluated; but because we're so short staffed, he never got the chance. Instead, Maria decided that a 'bite case' couldn't be in our program.

He wasn't a bite case, and I hope his god damned owner goes to hell for what he did to Pasha. Pasha was a beautiful, beautiful soul, and I know he did nothing wrong. He lost his life because some fucking idiot couldn't tell the different between play-biting and a vicious attack. So instead of going home to a family who would love and adore every second of his life, Pasha was put down in his prime.

I loved Pasha, and I only wish I could've had more time with him... if he could've stayed around for another two days, I may have had the chance to convince my grandparents that he should come home with me... I may have been able to save him...

Instead, all my grandmother can say is "I'm sorry."

In Loving Memory of Pasha
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digipinky75910's avatar
::hugs::

Nothing more I can really say. Beautiful art.