About a month ago I posted about another cat who was turning up on my porch
now and then: https://www.democraticunderground.com/116165278 She (as it turned out) came around only intermittently, and I wasn't able to approach or touch her except for once. Usually she would scoot under the porch when I approached. I kept leaving food and water out at the spot where she'd go under the porch, and the food always disappeared. I thought maybe I could trap or catch her but she just wasn't around often enough.
I hadn't seen her for almost a week until this morning, when I heard meowing coming from somewhere. I looked outside, all around the house, but I couldn't hear anything until I went back inside. It was very strange. Finally, running out of ideas, I checked the basement, and there she was, curled up on the floor. The only way she could have wound up there is via a crawl space which opens into the basement; apparently the crawl space under the porch and part of the living room isn't as well sealed off as I thought. I have no idea how long she'd been there, since I don't go into the basement very often - it's just a cellar. But she was evidently in distress, so I got her into a carrier and took her to the emergency vet.
While we waited (a very long time; they were really busy), she howled a lot but also ate the can of food I put in the carrier, since I figured she hadn't eaten for awhile. I thought that might be a good sign. Unfortunately, though, after the vet finally had a chance to look at her, she determined that the cat was very ill. Her problem walking wasn't from an injured back leg but a serious neurological problem (not cerebellar hypoplasia, which is manageable). Worse, the vet felt what was probably a tumor in her abdomen. She said they could run more tests but that it was doubtful she'd get better without extensive care, and probably not at all.
At this point, being a sentimental old cow and having become intensely attached to this sick old stray cat in the few hours I got to be with her, I started bawling and apologizing for being a sentimental old cow, but I agreed that the best thing for her would be to send her peacefully across the Bridge. I got to hold her for about a half an hour, and she fell asleep, purring, in my arms, even before she went to sleep permanently. She needed a name, so I named her Sally. I'll pick up her ashes in about a week and add them to my back yard pet "sematary," where she will be with Charles, Alice, Teddy, Woody, Jeoffry and Milo.
Sentimental old cow is bawling again. RIP, Sally.
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She passed over to the bridge knowing that someone loved her and cared for her.
I feel your pain, though. 
But sounds like she came to the right place to find someone to help her. Glad you could give her that comfort.
What a good send off. She was lucky you found her. RIP Sally.
You gave her comfort and love in her final hours. 
could turn to, and you didn't fail her -- much as it hurts to have had to let her go right away, to not have been able to help her more.
Lots of nice strong shoulders here for you to lean on for emotional and moral support.
Whenever they leave us, no matter how long they hung around, it's STILL too little and WAY too short.
Sally knew you would help her to the Bridge. Ty for helping her cross.
