Sad Lessons From a Dying, Feral Cat – Have You Ever Lost A Beloved Pet?
How Those Lessons Applied To Me — And Could To You
The Reflection In The Quiet: Some lives brush against yours in ways you never anticipate, leaving marks you can’t ignore. Mr. Piggy was one such beautiful soul—a tuxedo cat who tiptoed in and out of our world, just out of reach yet impossible to forget.
For Five Years: Mr. Piggy was a creature of shadows and moonlight, and fear and trepidation – appearing and disappearing according to an unspoken rhythm only he understood.
The Pattern of No Pattern: I first spotted him as a not-quite-kitten but not yet an adult, hiding in the bushes at the edge of our yard. Over time, he transformed into a sometimes nightly companion—visiting for an evening, gone for a month. Often he would appear just for a day or two, and then go, as quickly as he came. Sometimes he returned every evening for two weeks straight, sometimes he disappeared so long my heart clenched each night, wondering if I’d see his familiar silhouette once more.
I consoled myself by imagining he had another home, perhaps a warm nearby lanai. It eased the nagging fear that he might be fending for himself in the wild.
Peering Out, Peering In: Each evening, I’d stand at our back door, scanning the thick hao plants for that faint twin glow of his eyes. He’d watch me from the darkness, knowing he could see me, but thinking I couldn’t see him, all the while gauging whether it was safe.
I’d place a dish of food at the edge of the light and step back into our house, letting him slink forward to devour every morsel as if it might be his last. He’d emerge, sleek and silent, devouring, ravenously, every bite not only as if he hadn’t eaten for at least a day, but also as though it might be his last.
Mr. Piggy: That wild hunger earned him his name – Mr. Piggy.
The Injury: But the day came when I saw a raw wound on his cheek, ragged and swollen. I assumed he had been in a fight with another cat or mongoose.
A month later, when I saw him again, it looked worse: redder, angrier, a grim reminder that out there in the wild, battles are often fought alone.
The Disease: He returned less and less, thinner each time, until one evening he stepped fully into the light — something he’d never done before — and I finally understood – it was no mere wound. It was cancer.
He Wasn’t Ours But He Chose Us: The next day I borrowed a trap and that very night, he wasn’t hiding in the bush. He was at our door – something he had never done. He chose us to ask for help.
I set the trap added his favorite food, and went inside. Then a few minutes later hear the ‘clap’ of a the metal trap door slam shut.
The Capture: Capturing him felt like breaking our fragile pact and destroying our five year long relationship, but I had no other choice.
The Final Touch: I took him to the vet’s office, they did a private assessment of his condition, then brought him to me sedated—this once-elusive ghost suddenly still in my arms. I had never touched him before. My hand trembled as it rested against his dirty fur softer than I’d ever imagined.
“I’ve never been able to pet him,” I told the vet, my voice quivering. “This is the first time…” I paused and then added, “And the last.”
The vet looked down and slowly she placed one hand on his head and the other on his frail body, sharing a sorrow that needed no words.
You Are Never Ready: When she asked if I was ready, I answered, “No. But he is.” The needle slid in, and I felt him slip away, breath by breath, into a quiet beyond pain.
Shadows Without Light: I drove home with an empty carrier and a full cardboard box now holding my lifeless Mr. Piggy. A hollow ache that thundered in my chest. No more watchful eyes flickered from the bushes that night. Grief has a way of expanding into every corner; the absence of a small, feral cat felt unexpectedly massive.
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Sad Lessons—The Light From the Shadows: In the swirl of regret and relief, I realized I should have done more. Maybe I could have intervened earlier; maybe I could have tried to domesticate him. Yet beneath the “should haves” lies a harsh truth: sometimes, no matter how much we want to save them, creatures choose when—and if—they let us in.
Still, Mr. Piggy taught me that love doesn’t always need leashes or daily cuddles to be real. Sometimes love resides in a dish of food placed in the dark, or in the silent hours you spend watching for a glimmer of trust from the shadows. Sometimes the purest act of kindness is letting go before the suffering becomes unbearable.
An Ongoing Farewell: I still catch myself glancing at those bushes at dusk, half-expecting to see two golden eyes reflecting back. In that quiet moment, I remember the cat who only let me pet him once, and how a single act of compassion—no matter how fleeting—can shift the course of a life. Goodbye, Mr. Piggy. You were never truly mine, but I will always be yours.
Another Sad Lesson: A perspective to consider when deciding on your cat’s health – don’t do what is best or easiest for you. Do what is best for your cat. And, what is the best thing for your cat is rarely the best thing for you. Of course, easier said than done.
If Your Heart Stirs At This Story, Ask Yourself – Can I Help? Can I make room for one more fragile soul? The next Mr. Piggy might be out there tonight—watching from the shadows, hungry, hurt, and waiting for a kindness only you can give.
What You Can Do? Across the Big Island—indeed, around the world—there are countless cats (and dogs) living in the shadows. They didn’t ask to be born homeless or abandoned; people made those choices for them. If your heart aches at the thought of an animal left in the bush, consider what you can do:
- Feed and Care: Even if you can’t adopt, offering food, water, or shelter can be life-changing for an abandoned animal. If you are interested in helping to feed the cats of Kona, there is a group of volunteers that not only help feed and provide water, but also trap, neuter, and release to manage the cat population. Contact Stefanie at 808-Six Five Seven-7708 if you can help.
- Support AdvoCATS: Local Kona organization – AdvoCATS Hawaii, an all-volunteer 501(c)(3) non-profit located in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii, is dedicated to humanely controlling the homeless cat population through Trap/Neuter/Return (TNR).
- Adopt or Foster: If you can welcome a homeless cat into your life, you’ll find the love they return is immeasurable.
- Spay or Neuter: Prevent the cycle of unwanted litters that leads to more suffering.
- Support Local Shelters: Contribute your time, resources, or donations to help organizations that rescue and care for strays.
Mr. Piggy thanks you.
ps Yes, given my age and focal reference points, when Mr. Piggy would show up, I always said to my wife,
♫ “Who’s the cat that won’t cop out, when there’s danger all about… Mr. Piggy.” ♫
Then I would pause like the song, and add,
♫”Can you dig it?”♫
Of course, I got a serious eye roll from her, so I would then add,
♫”They say this cat Mr. Piggy is a bad…”♫
♫You’re damn right ♫
Lyrics queued up
