Last night we returned Henry to the shelter. It was probably the saddest thing I've ever had to do. But he can't stay with us, especially with his bathroom habits and tumbleweeds of hair that he drops.
So Sarah and I went to my house to get him in the carrier. Yikes! Not fun. He tried to hide under the desk in my office. Sarah crouched down to coax him out when next thing I know, she's jumping up screaming, "Owwwwwwwwww! Sh*t...!"
Henry bit her hand and bit it good. She had four deep puncture marks on her right hand. She began bleeding, so she went to the bathroom to clean it up. I didn't know what to say, I felt so awful. She still doesn't have much feeling in the side of hand and it hurts her a lot.
Henry refused to come out, so I had to resort to shoving him out with a boogie board. And, as I knew he would, he ran into the cat carrier to hide. As soon as he was in, I latched door and loaded him and a bag of food in the car.
It was a half hour drive to the shelter and I kept peeking back at Henry in the carrier. He was huddled in the very back, just peeking out at me. Each time I looked at him, it made me sadder.
Finally we arrived at the Second Chance shelter and I brought Henry up to the front door. I wasn't surprised when Sarah opted to stay in the car. She wasn't a big Henry fan.
I gave the poor little guy over to the owner and she set him up in a large cage with food, water, and a sleeper box. He refused to come out of the carrier, so the woman had to bundle him in the sheet that was in the carrier and pull him out. Once she did that, she set him in the cage. He refused to come out from under the sheet, just peeking out with one eye.
I looked at him sadly and said, "Good-bye, Henry."
Then I thanked the woman, turned, and left.
Poor little guy...