Orange tragedy.
My sweet, docile, loopy cat Clementine is dead. Butch and I left her at his parents' house, ready for her to acclimate to being an outside cat while we were away. The plan was to take her back to New York with us in October.
She never got the chance to come to New York. The Hoffmans' dog killed her yesterday. They found her in the front yard with a hole in her side.
I don't know what to say. I feel responsible for her death because I knew in my heart that leaving her at that house was a bad idea, the assurance of Butch's parents aside. I feel like a bad parent, a bad guardian. She trusted us and needed us, and we abandoned her to be killed.
I feel as though I'm not fit to own a pet.
Butch and Mike and I are all very, very sad.
She never got the chance to come to New York. The Hoffmans' dog killed her yesterday. They found her in the front yard with a hole in her side.
I don't know what to say. I feel responsible for her death because I knew in my heart that leaving her at that house was a bad idea, the assurance of Butch's parents aside. I feel like a bad parent, a bad guardian. She trusted us and needed us, and we abandoned her to be killed.
I feel as though I'm not fit to own a pet.
Butch and Mike and I are all very, very sad.