My lil Thistle was run over this morning. He must have been knocked down in the night – and whoever killed him didn’t stop. No-one checked his collar to find his home. Thanks to a neighbour who saw his body by the road and let me know, I can bury him. He was hardly even three years old.

Thistle was part of RAWR’s TNR on Whiddy Island. He’d 80% lung damage, probably as a result of untreated flu, and they felt he was too vulnerable to be returned to the island. So he came to me in May 2011. Semi-feral, he was absolutely terrified at first. But he turned into the most snorgalicious puss ever, loving his lovins, and dribbling with pleasure. Born feral, roaming free, he’d have hated being kept indoors, so the road was always a risk.

He got on great with all the other residents, especially his playmate Scrabble. Loved him to bits. Am gutted.

Posted in Fosterees 2011, In Loving Memory.

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