Hearts in Darkness: Cat Killed in Phoenix
Posted: Friday, December 30, 2011
by Jack H. Schick
When I was eighteen, I was hired to be the Conservation/Ecology director at a Boy Scout Camp for the summer. My lodging for the 10 weeks was to be an “Adirondack” shelter (an open fronted wooden building). After the camp staff orientation meeting we were assigned our bunks. I’d be ‘living’ with two other guys. I selected a top bunk on the left hand side of the shelter. When I threw my duffle bag up onto the hard boards I’d be sleeping on, I heard a ‘cheeping’ noise.
I had a bunch of ‘first-day-on-the-job’ obligations and was in a hurry. I knew there was not much chance of the mother tending to the babies after I did, but I had no choice. I dislodged the nest, with the peepers in it, and set it on a rock in the woods behind my shelter. I quickly changed into my swim suit for our qualification tests and ran off.
When I got back an hour or so later, I immediately went to check on the baby birds. They looked weak and were barely moving. One or two of them let out feeble ‘peeps.’ They were swarming with ants, which were, tiny bite by tiny bite, eating them alive. I was horrified. I picked up a heavy, flat rock, hesitated for a moment, and then smashed it down on top of the nest with sufficient force to assure myself that all of the baby birds would be instantly killed.
I did not check my handy work. I left the flat rock sitting on top of the nest on top of the other rock all summer. There were flies and ants around it for a week or so, but soon it was just an oddly positioned stone in a forest full of stones. Over four decades later, I can still see clearly in my mind that nest full of suffering, baby birds swarming with ants. I can still feel the emotions that ran through me as I slammed down that flat rock.
*
When I was a youngster, my mother would not let me watch the “Spanky and Our Gang” show on television. I wondered why, since my friends could. Many years later I watched an episode with my own kids and got my answer.
…The mean dog catcher captured the kids’ pet mongrel. He told them that unless they paid a $5 fine he was going to gas the dog at two o’clock that afternoon. The kids were heartbroken. They knew it was impossible for them to get $5. They cried and prayed….A well dressed, rich woman left a store with her arms full of bags. She dropped a $5 bill. It blew away down the street. It tumbled right past the kids who were a block away moping about their doomed dog. They grabbed the bill as it went by and praised God for sending them the money. They ran off to find the dog catcher….The woman noticed her money was missing and reported it to the police. The officer saw the kids come by with a $5 bill, accused them of stealing it and chased them. With much slapstick effort, they got away…The mean dog catcher as happy as could be when two o’clock came and no one had bailed out the dog. He dragged it by the collar and threw it into a drum like chamber. He closed the hatch and turned on the gas. His partner said “We’re out of gas,” but he was so delighted about being able to kill the kids’ dog he didn’t hear him…The kids showed up with their $5. He nastily yelled at them: “You’re too late! You’re dog is already dead!” He laughed, “You want to see him?” He opened the drum and, to his surprise and the kids’ delight, the dog ran out. His partner said, “I told you we were out of gas…The police with the rich woman showed up. The kids all ran off down the street with everybody chasing them, and the episode was over….
My kids just sat there watching. I was shocked and horrified. I wondered what my four-year-old might be thinking about it. I was the kind of kid who had to be carried crying out of the movie Dumbo because it was too sad. Old Yeller almost put me in the hospital. I realized why my mother wouldn’t let me watch “Our Gang.” They had the nerve to call them “comedies!”
*
My son couldn’t sleep. He was about 14. On his way home from school, he noticed that they’d cut down an old willow tree that had split during a wind storm. It hadn’t been cut up yet. It was lying there next to the creek in a tangled mess. On the creek bank, where it had been knocked out of a branch, was a nest with five baby flickers in it. They were almost old enough to fly. He knew that the mother would probably abandon them, and, on the ground like that, the neighborhood cats, or other animals, would soon get them.
At ten o’clock at night he and I walked the block or two up the street with a bucket. We could hear the birds still chirping, hungrily calling out for help. We got our feet muddy making our way down the creek bank with a flashlight. We picked it up, put the nest in the bucket, and took it home. The flickers were so hungry they eagerly took seeds from our hands.
We called the 24 hour phone number for the county wild animal rescue facility. My son skipped school in the morning so he and his mother could take the birds down to the rescue center where they could be properly cared for and ultimately be released to the wild--as far as we knew.
*
Daniel Dockery (49), had taken the first steps toward recovery from his addiction to heroin. He was sober now, and saw the devastation he had wreaked on his life. His therapist recommended he get a pet, so he would have something to love and something to feel responsible for. He acquired a tiny, doomed kitten. It didn’t even have its eyes open yet when he found it. It was as if it had been sent by heaven, just for him.
Daniel hand fed fresh tuna to “Scruffy,” as he named her. He let her sleep next to his head on his pillow. She survived when maybe she shouldn’t have, and grew with him. He’d hold her close against his chest. The purring warmed his heart. His therapist was right. Scruffy made him feel better and helped him to get through the first, tough months of his recovery and to open his heart and mind to the possibility of a brighter future.
One day Scruffy got hurt. She cut her self badly on a barbed wire fence. It extended from her abdomen to her knee and had cut into the muscle. She was not in immediate danger of death, but Daniel was naturally concerned for his friend’s health. He didn’t have money, but he’d heard that the Humane Society in Phoenix would help animals in need so he took Scruffy there.
After an evaluation they told him that it would cost $400 to treat the cat. Daniel was upset because he couldn’t afford it. He called his mother in Michigan. She offered to pay for the medical treatment over the telephone by credit card, or to wire money form her bank. However, the Society’s policy is to not accept credit cards over the phone. Too many times they've been defrauded. They also do not treat animals on just a promise that the money would be coming the next day.
The Humane Society staff told Dockery that if he signed papers surrendering Scruffy to them she would be treated and put in foster care. Daniel had no choice but to give up his friend to see to it she got the care she needed. But, instead of following through with their part of the bargain, several hours later, Scruffy was put to sleep.
A Society spokesperson said that they’d had every intention of getting Scruffy the help she needed but there were a lot of animals there that needed help. There just weren’t resources available. There was a lack of funds available and a shortage of veterinarians. There were patients in line ahead of Scruffy who could pay. If Dockery had been able to pay up front, treatment would have been begun immediately.
“There was no malicious intent to take Scruffy away from her father,” the spokesperson said. It is a prime example of why more funding and donations are needed at the Humane Society. A Society Facebook posting said, “Scruffy’s story is heartbreaking, and underscores the worst-case-scenario of need eclipsing resources available.”
Daniel Dockery is alone again. He said, “Now I’ve got to think about how I failed that beautiful animal.”
The Humane Society told Dockery that when he’s gotten over it, and is ready for another pet, he can come back and pick out any one they have available for adoption—at no charge. Inexplicably, he told them, “No thanks!”
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)Great stuff.not my best, but I keep plugging away. working on another Garbo one
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