15 January 2014
When we got up this morning, the big white cat, Schrodinger, was acting strangely, he was wet, with his fur plastered down as if he'd been out all night, and Dave spotted a wire sticking out from his waist. We worked out he'd got himself caught in a wire snare, been trapped all night and freed in the morning by whoever set the snare cutting the wire. Not good for poor Schrodie. He was frantic. But he did come to me, anxiously, sidling and fretful. Well, we did the obvious, Dave got the wire cutters and I held onto the cat. But we didn't allow for how distressed he was. At the first touch he yowled and scratched and clawed, drawing blood on Dave. I didn't hold him, and he shot out into the rain.
We spent the day anxious and feeling we'd betrayed him, unable to settle down, we kept putting on oilskins and searching the land, going further afield each time we ventured out into the drizzle between cloudbursts.
By dusk, we'd given up any expectation of finding him, but emerging from our bedsit, I found him back on his cushion, obviously in distress and unable to settle comfortably. The wire was still round him. During the day we had analysed our mistakes, and had a plan ready. I coaxed him to have some food, just to settle him down and make him trust me. I was able to pick him up under his shoulders, and by now he was getting exhausted.
We laid him down on towels on a straw bale, both in big gloves, I took hold of as much scruff as I could grasp, wrapped his head and foreclaws in towels and laid on him. Dave got a finger under the wire, avoiding the scrabbling back claws, and snipped. Phew. Schrodie limped off into the night, grudgingly grateful, probably to empty his poor strangled bowels.
When we got up this morning, the big white cat, Schrodinger, was acting strangely, he was wet, with his fur plastered down as if he'd been out all night, and Dave spotted a wire sticking out from his waist. We worked out he'd got himself caught in a wire snare, been trapped all night and freed in the morning by whoever set the snare cutting the wire. Not good for poor Schrodie. He was frantic. But he did come to me, anxiously, sidling and fretful. Well, we did the obvious, Dave got the wire cutters and I held onto the cat. But we didn't allow for how distressed he was. At the first touch he yowled and scratched and clawed, drawing blood on Dave. I didn't hold him, and he shot out into the rain.
We spent the day anxious and feeling we'd betrayed him, unable to settle down, we kept putting on oilskins and searching the land, going further afield each time we ventured out into the drizzle between cloudbursts.
By dusk, we'd given up any expectation of finding him, but emerging from our bedsit, I found him back on his cushion, obviously in distress and unable to settle comfortably. The wire was still round him. During the day we had analysed our mistakes, and had a plan ready. I coaxed him to have some food, just to settle him down and make him trust me. I was able to pick him up under his shoulders, and by now he was getting exhausted.
We laid him down on towels on a straw bale, both in big gloves, I took hold of as much scruff as I could grasp, wrapped his head and foreclaws in towels and laid on him. Dave got a finger under the wire, avoiding the scrabbling back claws, and snipped. Phew. Schrodie limped off into the night, grudgingly grateful, probably to empty his poor strangled bowels.
The removed snare -with coins for sizing - very tight for a big cat's waist
a few days later, back being a happy cat, no apparent ill-effects
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