I am pretty sad tonight. Max died today. Max is one of our cats that we had taken in about five years ago. He got along just fine until just recently when he started using the furniture as his litterbox. The vet said there was nothing wrong with him and I had had enough, so I decided that he would become an outside cat, living in the barn/garage at night. We live on 13 acres, but Max stayed close to the large back deck. Steve, my husband, kept threatening to take him to the no-kill pound, but it was full. I didn't really want that, because he would probably not be very happy living there.
This afternoon, our three dogs ganged up on him and killed him. I am really mad. Luckily, I was away and didn't have to see this destruction. Steve was mowing and couldn't get there in time to save him. These same dogs knew Max inside the house, but evidently he was not brave enough to put them in their place and ran from them. A fatal mistake. I feel awful that I put him at risk. He is now buried out in the pet cemetary out in the back forty along with Ginny, Dillon, Jake, Max and a few others. Steve is out in the barn with the dogs. He knows that it is not the night to let those mean animals in the house.
What more can I say, than I am so sorry, Max.