As you’ve gathered, we live on a small rural farm; my husband and fellow farmers have an informal co-op whereby everyone looks after land, crops and animals on an as-needed basis. So Husband went to feed the two farm cats for a co-op member this morning – and found Spot beside his pickup, meowing and carrying on, obviously upset. (It’s about a third of a mile for four little cats’ paws to walk to our farm/house.)
Husband jumped in the pickup, taking Spot along, and rushed to the greenhouse on the other farm – where he found Spot’s brother, Slim, very badly injured. Came back for me and a soft, padded box to rush Slim to the vet. He also still had Spot along, as he climbed into the box with brother Slim and tenderly washed his brother’s face during the 12-mile trip to the vet’s office. He wasn’t leaving his brother’s side.
Slim, as the vet found out, had been shot.
He’s in surgery now to amputate his badly shattered left back leg, with weeks of recovery to come, as Slim learns to maneuver on only three legs from now on. But he did reach the vet in time, hopefully, thanks to his brother Spot. I’ll post updates in the future as Slim begins his road back.
A very cruel act of malice showed a bond of love that only death will ever temporarily break. Bonded brothers, indeed.