Rolo was a stunning four-year-old pedigree chocolate British Shorthair who came to us from Cornwall. We never learned much about his early life, but what we do know is heartbreaking. In December 2024, Rolo was shot with an air rifle by his next-door neighbour. The pellet shattered his spine and hips. Incredibly, he was still able to walk – albeit in pain – and he could control his bladder and bowels. His devoted owners spent thousands trying to help him, and the pellet was eventually removed. But something went wrong during surgery.
After the operation, Rolo could no longer walk. He had lost all control of his bladder and bowels, and his world had completely changed. His owners tried everything – including physiotherapy and swimming sessions – but by March, a new baby had arrived. The emotional and financial strain became overwhelming, and the heartbreaking decision was made to find Rolo a new home.
A young couple, both paramedics, offered to take him. Despite being told Rolo had been shot, they hadn’t been made aware of just how serious his condition was. They were shocked to discover he couldn’t walk and was completely incontinent. Still, they quickly fell in love with him. But with long working hours and no practical way to manage his condition, they turned to Feline Network for help.
The couple made the long journey from Cornwall to Devon to bring Rolo to Lynn, one of our fosterers. Lynn was shocked by what she saw. Rolo could only drag himself along using his front legs, and he dribbled constantly. We knew we needed expert help – and fast.
We called on our trusted animal communicator, Karen, to visit him. Her insight was invaluable. She sensed Rolo’s deep anger. Before the surgery, he had been in pain, but he could still walk and go to the toilet unaided. After the operation, that independence was gone. He couldn’t understand why everything had stopped – the therapy, the hope. Karen suggested that although some gentle physio might help, his left back leg might need amputation. Even then, his incontinence might never improve. His right leg worked but was extremely weak. It wasn’t clear if Rolo could cope emotionally with any more treatment.
Still, we weren’t ready to give up on him. Our plan was to have him assessed by our vet before deciding whether a referral to a specialist physiotherapist was the right next step. But the car journey proved to be too much. Rolo became extremely distressed and could barely breathe. Our vet confirmed what we feared – his heart was under too much pressure, and just getting him to sessions would be damaging. Even if a further operation could help him walk, he was unlikely to ever regain control of his bladder or bowels.
We had to make the most difficult decision of all. With heavy hearts and tearful goodbyes, we let Rolo go. To continue trying would have been for our sake, not his.
Rolo is now buried in Lynn’s garden, in her cat cemetery, surrounded by many other much-loved souls. He will never be alone, and now, finally, he is free. Free from pain, free from fear, and able to run as he once did.
Rest in peace, beautiful Rolo. Though your life was unfairly cut short, you were deeply loved by many.
