Uploaded June 2026 | Updated September 2026, 2 days ago
Rest in peace, little guy.
Last Friday, we got an emergency call about a wild ocelot who had ended up trapped inside a bathroom in someone’s home. By the time we arrived with a SINAC official, he had already gotten out. A short while later, he was found hiding inside a hollow tree.
It was obvious he was in bad shape, so we darted him and brought him back to the rescue center as quickly as we could.
Once he was with us, the full extent of his injuries became clear. He was desperately thin and weak. He had a large infected wound on his neck, bite wounds across his body, an exposed fracture on his right forelimb, and an older fracture on his hip. We ran X-rays and blood tests, and after speaking with a veterinarian who specializes in wildcats, we had to make the heartbreaking decision to euthanize him.
That never feels routine to us. It never feels clinical. And it never gets easier.
When an animal dies in our care, it hits us hard because we know what they have already been through before they reach us. Fear. Pain. Stress. Suffering that no wild animal should ever have to endure. You do everything you can to help, you hope for a different outcome, and sometimes the most compassionate thing you can do is spare them any more pain.
Run free.
Rest in peace, little guy.
Last Friday, we got an emergency call about a wild ocelot who had ended up trapped inside a bathroom in someone’s home. By the time we arrived with a SINAC official, he had already gotten out. A short while later, he was found hiding inside a hollow tree.
It was obvious he was in bad shape, so we darted him and brought him back to the rescue center as quickly as we could.
Once he was with us, the full extent of his injuries became clear. He was desperately thin and weak. He had a large infected wound on his neck, bite wounds across his body, an exposed fracture on his right forelimb, and an older fracture on his hip. We ran X-rays and blood tests, and after speaking with a veterinarian who specializes in wildcats, we had to make the heartbreaking decision to euthanize him.
That never feels routine to us. It never feels clinical. And it never gets easier.
When an animal dies in our care, it hits us hard because we know what they have already been through before they reach us. Fear. Pain. Stress. Suffering that no wild animal should ever have to endure. You do everything you can to help, you hope for a different outcome, and sometimes the most compassionate thing you can do is spare them any more pain.
Run free.
