All winter we've been kind of leaving cat food out for the wild cats that live in the area. I felt so bad for them when it was so cold. One of the cats we named Fat Faced Boo - because it looked like our Bella (nicknamed Boo) but it had a swollen fat face. Anyway, we found FFB on our porch one morning laying in the sun. He stayed there for over a week, could barely get up. We wound up putting a box top and towels down behind a chair for him to sleep in. I was really worried that another animal would come and hurt him. All week we kept tending him, hoping he'd get better - but on Saturday he couldn't even hold his head up to eat. I gingerly fed him, made sure he had a full belly, then we took him to the Humane Society, where ultimately he was "put down".
Do our animals know how good they have it? Know how much they are loved and cherished members of our family? I think we gave FFB that feeling before he left us. I hope so, anyway.