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WARNING: THERE IS A GRAPHIC PHOTO OF AN INGROWN CLAW BELOW. VIEW WITH DISCRETION.
Just when I think I understand cats, something happens that reminds me how wrong I am. Things here are about as terrible as can be. There's a complex territorial situation going on between the cats that results in urinating and defecating out of the litter box. It feels as though I'm Sisyphus. Instead of my task being that I must push a boulder up a mountain every day, only to have it roll back down the hill just as I reach the crest for all eternity; my task is that I believe I've finally worked out what's irking my cats and what will solve their issues, only to have them fight at 3am, urinate in more areas, ruin more things and turn my house into, literally a waste-land (hopefully NOT for all eternity). One day I would like to get up in the morning, walk down stairs and not have to look for, find, and clean up cat urine for an hour before I can do anything else.
As you also may recall, my finances are in horrendous shape. It took me a few weeks to get up the nerve to even write about it-then anther few weeks to work up the nerve to upload the post. I spoke of my humiliation in not being able to provide Vet care for one of my cats. Over the past few weeks I worked up the nerve to talk to Dr. Larry about it, figuring I had to try to do something to help Gracie.
There's a Demotivator poster that sums up how I feel. Perhaps the mistakes I've made will help others to do better? Right away I learned that I only have to ask and my Vet will tell me I can pay off Gracie's Vet charges over time-and take as long as I need. I have NEVER paid a bill late, always up front, always in full. Dr Larry knows he can trust me and because of that trust, I was able to bring Gracie in to see him yesterday and not worry about the bill.
The goals were: 1. Re-check the growth on Gracie's abdomen. Is it cancer? Is it worse? Does it require surgery as we thought three months ago? 2. Assess Gracie's teeth for dental cleaning-they NEED IT.
Gracie is a fragile cat. She's VERY timid, but also VERY sweet. She would never hurt anyone. She cowers in fear and trips to the Vet cause her to tremble.Gracie also suffers from Milliary Dermatitis which I have written about over the years. It's basically a rash of unknown origin…and trust me, we have tried to figure out what is going on with her. Her skin, which was once so covered in scaly, raised scabs that she felt like a reptile. She barbered (chewed off) her fur, vomited daily and bit herself raw and bloody. I ended up using homeopathy which helped her emotional state. We only feed her raw. If she has any canned food she gets worse. Her skin is not perfect, but it's much better. She doesn't vomit daily. She has a bald patch on her tummy, but it's not bloody. I would consider her to be mildly stressed, but overall in very good shape compared to how she was last year.
But Gracie is fearful and skittish..and very hard to give a pill to. She was abused before I ever got her to foster and the scars of that stay with her no matter how quiet and sweet we are with her. She's come a long way, but still tends to run off unless she comes to us. Lately she's been climbing on us at night and sleeping on the bed. Some times I hear her walk into the room. I hear a "click" as one of her claws tap onto the wood floor. I made a mental note to get her claws trimmed when we were at the Vet. I never heard a cat's claws make any sound on the floor before.
Little did I know that one observation and decision would later come to shock me.
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I don't trim my cat's claws. My eyesight isn't that good and the last time I did it I almost cut off a foster kitten's toe. I DO hold the cat and Sam clips the cat's claws-at least the cats we can handle. Gracie has extremely fluffy paws and fur between her toes. She's so skittish, we just don't bother her. I had NO idea there was anything at all wrong with her paws. She did not limp. She did not cry out. Perhaps that she has been climbing on us every night-maybe she was asking for help? I can't say.
All I know is I was holding Gracie while Vet Tech Amber was trimming Gracie's claws. Gracie trembled as usual, but didn't make a fuss. I didn't even have to scruff her.
Amber clipped the back claws, then began the front. She had to spread Gracie's toes apart to see past the fur. She stopped and quietly said; “Oh, she's got an ingrown claw. Let me get Dr. Larry we have to use special clippers for this.”
Before she left she showed me what was wrong. I gasped when I saw it. It looked unreal. There was her claw, turned into itself-a deadly pointy hook, jabbed deeply into her paw. How she was walking around the house, I had NO IDEA. I felt a nauseating flush of adreneline hit my gut. What the HELL?! All I could think of was how fast could we get that out of her paw and how much PAIN Gracie must be in right now-and that she isn't even making a fuss!
Dr. Larry came in and took a look. As I've heard so many times, his voice took a serious tone. There was no time for sedation. The claw would come out. Dr. Larry just had to make a few cuts to remove it from her paw. Because Gracie is so submissive, he was able to work quickly to remove the claw. Gracie barely struggled. Perhaps she knew he was trying to help. What relief it must have been when that claw came out after a few, quick snips of the nail cutter!
When I saw the claw laying on the exam table, I truly felt sick. I could see a line of blood. It indicated just how deep that claw was into her paw. This had been going on for a long while now-at least three months because that was the last time Gracie was at the Vet. Months of blinding pain. How did she not give me a clue? Or did she show me, but I didn't take notice?
I learned that the older the cat gets, the thicker their claws become. They grow faster as the cat ages and the sheath that usually breaks off every so often, does so less often and that's how ingrown claws can occur.
Gracie is not a polydactyl. It was her fourth toe on her front paw…I called it her ring-toe. She has a hole in her paw and is on antibiotics. She could benefit from a soak in DILUTED betadine solution, but with the meds on board it's not a must.
I looked for information on ingrown feline claws but didn't find much about it. I did discover a kooky looking poster with 3D illustrations of what to do if you discover your cat has an ingrown claw. If it's bad you MUST get your cat to a vet, but some times you can deal with it at home if your cat won't bite your face off when you handle him or her. Here's the info: Step by Step instructions from GoToAid-CATS Download a Poster to keep on hand-pardon the almost pun.
After thinking about it for awhile, I recall seeing Gracie chewing at her paw. I've seen cats do that before to remove the claw sheath. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but that's what I should have been looking for.
I hope ALL of you will take a look at your cat's claws TODAY-especially if they're older! Trim their claws if you can. Take them to the Vet and have it done if you can manage it. Get a friend to help you do it. It's also a good time to remind you to make sure you have plenty of adequate areas for the cat to scratch. You should provide vertical and horizontal surfaces for scratching. I have cat tress with sisal covered posts for vertical scratching. I use corrugated cardboard scratchers for horizontal scratching. I have a chunk of red cedar, too. Cats like it and it's aromatic. While it didn't help Gracie this time, it may have prevented the other cats from having a problem. In 30 years of having cats, I've never had one with an ingrown claw before.
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The biggest surprise was how Gracie acted not even a day later. For the first time in YEARS, I found her, not sleeping away from everyone on the bed, but sleeping right under my desk as I write this. She's not lightly sleeping, ready to RUN off at the slightest sound. She's asleep. Her posture is relaxed. She must be feeling so much better, though there is more to be done to help her feel really good.
The reasons I brought Gracie to the Vet in the first place, were eventually addressed. I discovered that Gracie's growth has reduced in size from 10 mm x 14 mm to 10 mm x 7 (still a nice size for a diamond, but even better size to show a shrinking cyst). Dr. Larry is going to drain it when Gracie gets her dental on Monday. He may send the fluid out for testing, but right now it doesn't look like cancer! Gracie's front teeth are okay but the back teeth are NOT. They're causing her pain, so between the antibiotics and dental cleaning she should be really feeling great in another week.
As for myself, I've never cared for the taste of humble pie, but I have a feeling I better acquire one soon.
King continues to amaze us. He was once just another hungry stray cat, but with a startling difference. He has no back feet, but somehow this cat survived for the past year on his own. He was dirty, scared and thin. Life at the Palette Factory meant dodging forklifts, trucks and fighting for scraps from the employee's lunch pails. But somehow, through all of that, King made a life for himself.
When our friend, Bobby told me about King, I knew we had to do something. There were plenty of risks taking on a cat like this. Would there be bank-breaking surgeries needed? Would he be nasty? Fractious? Did he suffer from other issues we were yet to discover? Who would adopt him if we DID rescue him?
There are times when although you're aware of all those questions, you have to do something no matter what and that's what we did. Bobby got King over to the Vet and had him spayed, got his shots and tests and went on to Mama-Maria's house to be fostered. Shortly thereafter he was taken to another vet to be x-rayed so we could determine what happened to his legs. We needed to do more tests so a final diagnosis would have to wait.
We had some trying times. King urinated quite a few times on his bedding. When his Palette Factory friend, Miss FP arrived to share the same space with him, he urinated even more outside of the litter pan. Maria thought he might be incontinent, but he was using the pan some times. Over a few weeks, King settled down and he hasn't urinated outside the litter pan after we got him a big cat tree that allows Miss FP to be up high and feel safe and King can stay on the floor on his pillows and feel safe, too.
Bobby took King to see an orthopedic specialist named Dr. Alan Cross. Dr. Cross examined King and reviewed his x-rays. He felt that it was likely that King's issue is due to a deformity and not an accident because if it had been an accident, King would have bled to death. There is either a callus or a bit of a paw pad at the end of each back leg. The legs are almost the same length, but the right one is a bit shorter. King is not a good candidate for a cart or prosthetics. They could do more harm, than good. King might benefit from some soft booties or leggings so we'll look into that. Bottom line-King needs to live in a home with rugs or carpeting because without it only his front legs reach the ground and the others swing freely in the air. On carpet he can plant his back legs and walk somewhat normally.
While all these tests and vet trips were going on, something amazing happened. King began to blossom.
His filthy coat began to shine. The white patches of fur glowed. King's eyes had a sparkle that wasn't there before. He gained some weight so now he has a fullness that was missing before. King made best friends with Maria's cat, Kahlua. The two of them “head butt” each other and even hold paws. Part of me wishes Maria would keep King so he could stay with Kahlua, but it also means that King cold be happy in a forever home that has another kitty already waiting to be his friend.
Sadly, Miss FP has not been interested in forming a friendship, but keeps to herself or enjoys pets when Maria's friends come over to visit.
The best thing about King is his love for everyone. He's an easy going, sweet natured cat. Considering what his life has been like, he has no reason to be affectionate towards humans, yet he loves people. He's a very special cat and I admit to having a crush on him from afar. I can't wait for him to join us here and I can't wait for the day to arrive when he finds his forever home.
This cat has been through so much, but his future is looking bright. I enjoy the privilege to witness his glorious transformation. It gives me great joy. In fact, I'm walking on air, too.
Are you ready for the 84th Academy Awards? Got your designer duds pressed? Zillion dollar jewels? Are you ready to ROCK the RED CARPET? If you've ever watched the Oscar's you know that before the awards show there are rooms set up, filled with Celebrity Swag Bags that can be worth into the thousands of dollars. If only WE could get into one of those rooms!
Gracey, of the Tiniest Tiger, preparing for the Oscars.
Thanks to The Tiniest Tiger, a popular blog about cats both big and small, we can walk the Academy Awards’ Red Carpet, too with our own Tiniest Tiger Hipster Bag that's FILLED with Oscar-worthy swag! How did we get so lucky? Here are the details from the Tiniest Tiger:
Joanne McGonagle, author of The Tiniest Tiger and co-owner of Triple T Studios, along with Jackson Galaxy, star of Animal Planet’s “My Cat from Hell” will be attending the Secret Room Events and Backstage Luxury Lounge where Celebrity Gift Bags are given to the nominees honoring the Academy Awards! Triple T Studios designed The Tiniest Tiger’s Hipster Bag filled with feline friendly products, which will be given to the VIP Celebrities at the event.
McGonagle spent last summer living among lions and the Maasai in Kenya as part of a Global Field Master of Zoology program. Her blog, The Tiniest Tiger, has raised over $30,000 to help both domestic and big cats programs. Proceeds from the sale of The Tiniest Tiger Hipster Bag benefits global conservation programs, with Lion Guardians getting the lion’s share
This one of a kind hipster features The Tiniest Tiger’s feline finesse quilted into the fabric creating a subtle yet cool cat appearance. The irresistible design combined with the hands free practicality of the cross body Hipster make this the perfect bag when you are on the prowl.
The Hipster is slightly padded, providing protection for your iPad, mobile phone, and other essentials. Handy front zip pocket keeps your ID, cash, credit cards and keys secure yet easy for you to access.
The bag's inside dimensions are 8 inches in width and 9.75 inches in length. There is also a zippered pouch in the front of the bag 6.75 inches in width and 6.75 inches in length. There are two inside pocket to help you stay organized.
The Tiniest Tiger Hipster Bag is made in the USA. See it being made HERE
It's also filled with $242.00 worth of swag! Check out the sponsors HERE
How do you get all this cool stuff?
You can PURCHASE a TTT Hipster Bag HERE for a special introductory price of $59.00 + $4.95 shipping, which is a savings of $10.00 over the cost of retail to non-tiny tiger-in-the-know-folks.
Part of your purchase benefits global conservation programs!!!
You also have a chance to WIN a TTT Hipster Bag in one of the two following ways:
1. RSVP NOW to Attend the #RedCarpetCat Twitter Party Wednesday, February 22, 5:30-7:00 pm Pacific
The 90 minute #RedCarpetCat twitter party is being hosted by Event Barkers and promises to be fun and feline friendly. They will be giving away The Tiniest Tiger Hipster bag packed full of feline fun.
Pre-Party Prizes:
• RSVP signup prize: $50 The Tiniest Tiger gift certificate
• Pre-tweet prize: 10 bundles of Tiniest Tiger books.
• Rafflecopter giveaway prize: $50 The Tiniest Tiger gift certificate
Party Prizes:
• 5:30 party begins with announcement of some of the pre-party winners
• 5:40 bag prize
• 5:50 bag prize
• 6:00 bag prize
• 6:10 bag prize
• 6:20 bag prize
• 6:30 bag prize
• 6:40 bag prize
• 6:50 bag prize
• 7:00 grand prize bag + $100 Tiniest Tiger gift certificate
2. We're Part of the Red Carpet Cat Walk Blog Tour!
Because we are one of the chosen cat-blogs to share the news of this event, the second way to win the Hipster is by leaving a comment here! I will have ONE Tiniest Tiger Hipster Bag w/Swag to give away! All you have to do is leave a comment on what was your favorite Oscar moment from any of the Academy Awards in past years or this year OR most creative excuse why you didn't watch the show! One winner will be drawn at random. Just about ANYONE can enter!
If you live in USA, Canada, Europe or Australia you can enter to win! Be creative! I might be swayed by a really good comment.
DEADLINE TO LEAVE A COMMENT HERE IS FEBRUARY 29, 2012 at 10:10 AM Eastern Standard Time-USA.
ONE COMMENT PER PERSON OR YOUR ENTRY WILL BE DELETED. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT I HAVE TO PERSONALLY APPROVE EVERY COMMENT ON THIS BLOG (to prevent Spam) SO YOUR COMMENT MAY NOT APPEAR IMMEDIATELY-but it WILL APPEAR EVENTUALLY!
Start preparing your acceptance speech! Good luck!
I was very disappointed when King and Miss Fluffy Pants's (is this her name? It was just a code name, but I think it might stick) reunion was not a happy one. It was clear they were never friends at the Palette factory, where they were both rescued from. Perhaps they even competed for the same scraps of food?
King was nonplused at the first meeting, but Miss FP was pissed. She hissed and growled when Maria let her out of the cat carrier, into the small bathroom that would be her new home. We didn't realize it at the time, but Miss FP had just had a terrible 48 hours. She was sedated, then the Vet realized she'd already been SPAYED! She had her blood drawn and we found out she may be FIV+. She was nose to nose with a big dog at the clinic and she was so distressed when she tried to attack him through the door of the carrier, the momentum of all that energy almost flipped her cat carrier over and onto the floor! With her life turned upside down, from the routine of living on scraps at the Palette factory, to a clinic full of scary smells and a big dog encounter, needless to say, Miss FP was not a happy camper to be yet at another strange place full of different smells.
If Maria had space in her home, she would not have put Miss FP with King, but we had no choice. We had to make it work until we could figure out what to do.
After Maria let Miss into the room, she let it be known that she did not want to be touched or be anyone's friend. She was so fractious that Maria was scared to go near her. Fearing for King's safety and with no other options we decided to put Miss into a crate so at least she couldn't bite King. With a disability to contend with, I didn't want King to be exposed to FIV+, too.
We were all very unhappy with the situation and I started to scramble, thinking of what I could do to make it better. Maria had to be at work. She couldn't stay home and monitor the cats so Miss was stuck in a tiny cage, probably getting angrier by the minute, while poor King started to cry and urinate all over his bedding.
A day passed and Maria let Miss out of her cage to stretch. She hissed at King, but didn't growl. It was progress, but not much. King was still urinating around the room to the point where we worried he had a urinary tract infection. Maria was very stressed and tired-and who wouldn't be from having to do a mountain of laundry and deal with her own cats and work, then come home to a big mess! I was getting stressed out because I couldn't figure out what to do and living 1000 miles away, I couldn't just come over and help-which I desperately wanted to do.
I realized I had to take it in small steps.
Number one: Western Blot test for Miss-ASAP. If she truly IS FIV+ then maybe she has to go to another rescue? I have two rooms in my home for fostering, that's it, and kitten season is almost here and it will be early this year since the weather is so warm. I can't bring an FIV+ cat who is nasty into my house and hope I will ever find her a home. I'll just end up not being able to help countless other cats if that happens. It was a terrible predicament. We even discussed returning her to the Palette factory now that she was vetted. At least we could donate some food for her and a new cat bed, but I knew in my heart that I'd never sleep again if I did that to her.
I had to find out how to reach this supposedly friendly cat. Bobby had told me she was very affectionate, but all Maria had seen was a cat who would swat at her hand or growl at her.
Maria sent me a photo so I could see some progress in the situation. All of a sudden, alarm bells went off in my head. I realized we had completely misunderstood Miss FP from the start.
The photo seems innocent enough. King sits near Miss's small cage. Neither cat is looking at the other. Maria interpreted it as King wanting to be close to Miss to be friends, but because he was ignoring her, I looked at it differently. Was King letting Miss FP know HE was in charge of the room-after all he's free to walk about and that HE could sit right up next to her crate and at any given moment, if he wanted to, he could pounce on top of the cage and get her, attack head on or get at her from any side of the crate. She was completely trapped and completely exposed. No wonder she was freaking out!
Maria also mentioned not being able to go near Miss FP. Then, I noticed the food dishes in the crate. They were full. Another alarm went off in my head-the food had to GO. Miss needed to be fed BY Maria, twice a day and that was it. No free feeding her. Miss needed to bond with Maria and see Maria as something good, not bad. Maria was the food provider, not the Dungeon Master!
Miss needed OUT of the cage ASAP. She needed a place in the bathroom to call her own. The problem is-where would that be in a such a small space? Of course…we needed a cat tree!
A cat tree would add a lot of vertical space to the room. Odds are, King would not be able to climb it, but Miss could. She could have the upper area to herself and feel safe. Perhaps that was what she needed?
In the middle of all this craziness, Maria and I are trying to help a pregnant Tortishell cat who was found by an elderly couple in the area! Maria was running around trying to get the cat some help, run Miss FP to the Vet to get her Western Blot test done AND she had to get to the pet store and find a cat tree ASAP!
I'm very lucky Maria is so devoted to helping cats or this would have been a complete nightmare.
Then, another puzzle piece fell into place. Maria warned the Vet Tech at East Lake Vet Hospital, to be very careful handling Miss FP. That she was nasty and might bite. The Tech said she would do her best and took Miss FP into the back of the building to do the blood draw. Awhile later, the Tech came out. Maria was worried something bad had happened and asked how it went. The answer surprised her and gave me a rush of hopeful excitement:
The Tech remarked that in all her years of working with cats, that Miss FP had been ONE OF THE EASIEST, NICEST and SWEETEST cats she'd ever worked with!
What was the difference? Was there a magic pill that she gave Miss FP? No. First, Miss FP was NOT in a room with another cat. Second, Miss FP didn't have to worry about territory. Third, the Tech probably approached her gently-not that Maria didn't do that, but Maria had grown fearful of the cat. All this adds up to-this cat is NOT fractious-she's ANGRY and SCARED!
Maria got a great cat tree and thanks to the donations we got for King's care, we could afford to get one right away instead of have to shop for one on discount, then wait a week for it to arrive. Maria set up the cat tree. I told her to take the cage out of the room. No more cage for Miss. We had to trust that she would not hurt King. She might take a swipe and him and claw him, but she'd calmed down enough for us to believe she'd not be a risk to give him FIV+. It was a very tough call, but for the sanity of Miss, we had to do it. Unfortunately, King cried with her out of the crate, then urinated on his bed. Was his sick or scared?
I can't explain how I knew what to do, but I can say that within moments of letting Miss investigate the cat tree, it was VERY CLEAR it was what she needed all along.
Miss FP climbed onto the top of the cat tree, nervously licked her mouth for a moment, then laid on her side and started to “make muffins” into the carpeting on the cat tree.
Maria didn't hesitate. She reached out to give Miss FP a pet. Her bravery was rewarded with a head butt into her hand. Maria overcame her reluctance to get close to Miss FP and had the simple joy of getting to know her as she really was all along.
Miss FP relaxed. Her eyes were soft. Her movements were slow and easy. Her tail did not whip around or even move. She was HAPPY and with her happiness came more surprises.
Miss loves to be brushed. She loves to be petted. When her anger and fear washed away; a sweet lady emerged.
King stopped peeing on the floor.
King stopped crying.
King is still lonely and still loves Maria's cat, Kahlua, who comes in to visit for a few minutes once in awhile. King has also perked up now that he has some toys and the cat tree base to play with!
Although Miss and King are not best friends, they both have safe spaces to live in and places they can call their own. I'm sad that King wants a friend, but can't find one in Miss FP, but with all the surprises we've had, perhaps there are more to come?
For now we wait for Miss's blood test results and we hope she is not FIV+.Tomorrow, King goes to meet Dr. Alan Cross, an orthopedic surgeon, who may help us understand what happened to King's back feet and what we can do to help him live a more comfortable life.
We couldn't have done ANY OF THIS if we hadn't gotten the support from so many of you. You honor King with your love and your donations. His success is due to your support, Maria's love and devotion to cats in need and my determination to unlock the mystery of what these cats are thinking and how to provide what they need.
Over the years, I've fostered many cats and I believe, that for those of us who take this on, we get to a place where we specialize in the type of fostering we do. I know people who take neonatal, orphan kittens and with a very serious commitment to a schedule of feeding, cleaning and nurturing, help the kittens survive those delicate early days. There are others who focus on Feline Leukemia positive cats, giving them a chance to live a full life, for as long as it may be.
For myself, I seem to take on mama-cats and their offspring. I don't know if I have the chops for bottle feeding kittens or the nerve to remain calm during the most trying of times, so I have the mamas there to take on the feedings and care and I step in when they're about four weeks old and help them make the transition to being socialized and ready for adoption.
I've never rescued a cat with a disability. I don't even know what the politically correct term for a cat who's missing his feet is called. Is he handicapped? Special? I don't know. I'm naive, but learning. I'm a bit uncomfortable and somewhat freaked out by seeing a cat without hind paws. It hurt my heart when I saw him take his first, stiff-legged steps. I wanted to turn away, but my desire to help him outweighed my own feelings.
I have other concerns, as well. Without a shelter, where adoptions of adults are easier to pull off, I'm wondering if having a disabled adult cat will be an even more long-term foster. Maize was here for 14 months and she had no physical issues. How long will this cat be with me? Am I crazy for rescuing him?
King has been in foster care for six days. In that short time he's surprising us at every turn. If we have a concern, he proves us wrong. If we have a worry, he gives us a lovey-dovey look and “makes muffins” on the bolster of his cat bed. It's easy to forget there are any challenges with this cat.
King is NOT feral or semi-feral or skittish. He must have gotten a lot of attention from the workers at the Palette factory because this cat has no wild beast lurking in his heart. King is all about LOVE.
King is NOT incontinent as we first feared. After passing the first day living indoors, Maria found King urinated all over his bed and the floor. He'd used his litter pan for moving his bowels but not urinating. We discussed it and thought we'd make sure the Vet would check him for neurological issues related to his back legs-which may have effected his ability to control his output. Another day passed and Maria found that King was using his litter pan properly, though with a bit of difficulty getting in and out of it so she made some adjustments.
The second Vet we took King to did an exam, but only after all the staff held, petted and cooed over King who was more than happy to get the attention! King's legs were x-rayed. The Vet felt it was likely his legs were deformed and this was not abuse. I think Maria and I were both relieved to hear that, but were also at a loss-NOW WHAT DO WE DO FOR KING?
The Vet was going to reach out to her peers to see if there was a specialist we could meet with-someone whose focus is on orthopedic issues. I also spoke with a woman in Texas who works with handicapped cats and she told me to forget trying a cart because cat's just don't like those. Dogs can use them, but cats, with their independent nature, need to feel free (and how does the cat use the litter pan in a cart?). I asked her about orthopedic devices and the answer, again, was the same. If you can get the cat to wear something, they get rubbed raw, they have to be adjusted all the time and frankly we'd be better off looking into a padded bootie to keep King's paws protected…AND to keep him on a carpeted surface.
Maria tried a soft dog bed under King and he took a few steps. He didn't get up much and after just a day of being alone while Maria was a work, King took a turn for the worse. Maria called me, worried that King was getting sick. He was eating ok, but was very “flat;” a sure sign something is brewing.
That night Maria's cat, Kahlua, scratched at the door to the foster room. Though I warned her not to allow King to meet her other cats so soon, Maria went with her instincts and opened the door slightly. She said that once King looked up and saw her cat it was like a light was turned on in King's eyes. When he saw Kahlua, he stood up and tried to walk over to her.
Maria allowed Kahlua into the room. What happened next blew us both away. Thankfully, Maria got some video of the meeting. I won't spoil it by saying more. Just watch and see…
It was obvious that King needed a friend. Sadly, Kahlua couldn't stay in the foster room with King all day. She just wouldn't like being away from Maria's other cats. The solution was very simple, IF it worked…have Miss Fluffy Pants join King!
Miss Fluffy Pants still lives outdoors at the Palette factory. Bobby made sure she had food over the weekend, but he told me that she would rather be petted than eat. Each day she lives at the plant, is another day we risk losing her to an accident or predation. We realize time is ticking, but we also have to factor in that Miss FP could be sick or carrying fleas, ticks, ear mites, etc. We must get her vetted FIRST before she can be in Maria's house-even if the cat is kept away from Maria's own cats. We can't risk sickening everyone.
Then there's the other question-one I have to tread lightly talking about. Bobby thinks Miss FP might be pregnant. Of course that's likely to be the case considering King wasn't neutered, why would Miss FP be spayed? It's very difficult to tell if a cat is pregnant until they are quite far along and the Vet could feel their heads.
This is where I get stuck like a deer caught in headlights. What do we do for Miss FP?
Something I didn't know about until just a few years ago that most rescues spay-abort pregnant females. Cat overpopulation is a very serious matter that effects all 50 states and each additional kitten being born takes away a family who might have adopted another cat who is already on death row at a kill shelter or digging for scraps on the street. I'm a very passionate advocate for spay/neuter laws and legislation and, in fact, it's part of my rescue group's mission statement to support this issue.
That said…I foster kittens all the time. If they're already in the “oven” and I can provide care for them and find them homes, I have a very very hard time taking those unborn lives. I realize this is a very hot topic, especially if I were talking about humans, but humans can make choices for themselves and I'm not going to take a stand about those choices one way or another. This is about cats. Cats don't have a choice. I was also told that spay-aborting really messes up the mom-cat's hormones…but if this were done for Miss FP, then we could place her with King and IF they recognize each other and are friends it's a win-win for them, but that's a lot of IF's.
If we allow Miss FP to have her kittens, then what happens to her? Where do we foster her and can Maria take that on? I doubt the kittens can be near King, though he is so friendly, perhaps they could be in the same room. I talked to a rescue friend of mine about this and she blurted out; “What if Miss Fluff is King's mom and she has more disabled kittens?” THANKS KATHERINE!
The short answer is-Bobby needs to verify that MISS FP IS A FEMALE, first. On Tuesday he'll take her to the Clinic to get snap tested. If she tests negative/negative they'll do an exam and determine what's going on. Then she'll either be spayed or she won't. If I take a big step back and try not to be emotional about it then I don't feel I should interfere in Miss FP's motherhood. It's not as if I'm breeding her and I've spayed or neutered every single cat I've ever rescued, so maybe that offset letting one cat have a litter or maybe I'm just fooling myself?
I can try to rationalize it all I want, but in the end it's going to be very difficult to find the right answer.
In the meantime, I'll start hoping that Miss FP is a boy.
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THANK YOU VERY MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO JUMPED AT THE CHANCE TO DONATE TO KING'S CARE & TO SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT HIS STORY. BECAUSE OF YOU WE COULD BUY KING A HEATED CAT BED, A RUG, FOOD & LITTER AND PAY FOR HIS BLOOD WORK AND X-RAYS AND WE WON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THE COSTS TO PAY FOR A CONSULT WITH A SPECIALIST BECAUSE THAT'S COVERED, TOO.
As soon as I have a better idea of what King will need, in total, I will adjust down our ChipIn goal. If you still want to help with King's care, because he may need more tests, perhaps orthopedic booties and transport to CT, just use the ChipIn widget in the right column, near the top of the page. Yes, that donation IS tax deductible!
There are times when you just have to do something to help rescue a cat. You can't sit idly by and do nothing. Even from 1000 miles away, my heart is breaking for one particular tuxedo cat I just learned about. Even if I don't have a shelter and know I'm going to have trouble finding a home for him, I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING and it can't wait until I can sort out details. I HAVE TO ACT FAST.
Our wonderful supporter and driver, Bobby, alerted me about a cat that's been living around a palette factory in Georgia. In the daytime it's okay to walk around there, but at night even Bobby does not feel safe. This is not a place where a cat will have a long life expectancy.
He'd seen the cat six months ago, but thought it had died so he never mentioned it to me. A few days ago he was surprised to see it again since the last time he saw the cat, he noticed it's back paws were either deformed or crushed and he was hobbling around the plant on his two front legs. The workers feed him scraps. They didn't provide him with proper food or vet care of any kind.
They simply don't have the funds or the interest to concern themselves about a disabled cat. How this cat survived this long is beyond my comprehension.
I told Bobby to grab the cat next chance he got. Maria, our beloved foster mom, said she would foster him. Her heart melted when she heard about the poor cat hobbling around and she wanted to get him off the streets as badly as I did.
A few days passed, then Tuesday afternoon I got a call from Bobby. He got the kitty! It took a bit of coaxing to get the cat into the carrier. He's lived outdoors his whole life and though he wasn't feral, he was probably going to be very skittish. Bobby was told by one of the workers at the Plant that some of the folks could rub his belly-so why didn't then TAKE HIM TO A VET? Didn't they NOTICE something was WRONG with him? Okay, at least he could be petted-or so we thought.
Bobby told me he was on his way to the clinic to have Doc Thomas take a look at him or her-he wasn't sure which. It's funny we all assumed it was a male cat for some reason, and turns out we were right. Bobby didn't get a good look at the back feet. The cat was too nervous to be approached. Bobby said he heard rumors that someone cut the cat's feet off, but he hoped it was not true. We decided to let Doc do the basics, for now and fill us in more the following morning. It was late in the day and she just had time to run his tests and get him neutered.
As always, I'm on pins and needles until I hear the snap test results-his were NEGATIVE/NEGATIVE for FIV+ and Feline Leukemia. Next he got his vaccinations and was neutered, but what about his FEET?!
Initially I didn't know what would be in store for King. I was told this boy is going to need a lot of socialization. At the clinic he laid in his litter pan and was covered with his own filth. He's never even used a litter pan before and with his short back legs, there's no telling IF he can use a litter pan. Maria would have her work cut out for her, but I knew she could handle it. In the meantime, I've been introduced to someone who works with handicapped cats and hopefully she will share some ideas of how we can help this kitty. I've never rescued such a severely handicapped cat before and though I'm a bit scared, he needs us, so our fears will have to be put aside. No matter what, he is safe now and we'll just take it one day at a time.
There's also a very friendly, fluffy little lady at the palette factory. I offered to, at least get her spayed, but when I heard how nice she was, I realized we needed to take her into foster care, too. Looks like Maria had all of a week-long break from fostering, but am so grateful she could and wanted to help! Bobby is going to go get Miss Fluff as soon as he can and we'll start the vetting process all over again.
We went through a long discussion of what to name the kitty. The options ranged from Ahab to Footloose or iHop but I wanted him to have something noble and brave. Maria and I chose, King Arthur. I liked the idea of calling him “King”-of course because of nobility, but also because my Mother's maiden name was King, and two of my good friends are also “Kings” (Ingrid and Marcia).
Late last night, Maria got King back from the Vet. She said she thought the problem was a deformity, but would need an x-ray to confirm it. We'd have to bring King to another Vet to get that done. Meanwhile, Maria prepared herself to foster a semi-feral cat she could not touch, who would probably be very stressed out. She was going to keep him in her bathroom, away from all the other cats. With Maria as his only connection to another living thing, hopefully he would learn to trust her and have less fear of humans. With his leg issues and fear, this was going to be a VERY LONG ROAD.
But the surprise was on us. King Arthur is more than just a brave kitty. From life on the streets into a stranger's home, this cat did not bat an eye. Instead of showing fear or aggression, he rolled over and showed his belly. Did he run off when Maria tried to pet him for the first time? No! He just wanted some love and she was more than happy to oblige.
This cat, who has suffered a painful and difficult life, loves Maria already. He has a soft, CLEAN, SAFE place to sleep-probably the first in his life; fresh wholesome food and clean water to drink. That he is friendly now will make our job of helping him feel better so much easier. I'm happy and hopeful for this kitty's future.
Our sweet handicapped friend needs a lot more vet care and x-rays. I don't know if he'll be able to benefit from prosthetics or if he needs surgery, so I'm going to start a fundraiser and leave the total open ended for now. I'll go back and adjust it down as soon as I know what he'll need.
Any funds not used for the care of these kitties will go to helping other cats in our program.
If you can't make a donation, you can help us by getting the word out. We're going to need a solid base of donations to help King walk again. Every dollar helps and every Re-tweet or FB Share does, too. THANK YOU for caring about this very special kitty!
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A special THANK YOU to Bobby Stanford for being willing to take action when he saw a cat in need-not only that, but he got King to the vet and oversaw his initial care without batting an eye or looking for a pat on the back. Without Bobby, King didn't stand a chance. And also another big THANK YOU to Maria for going above and beyond-again, opening up her home and heart to this wonderful kitty.
The past 36 hours have been nuts behind the scenes here at Covered in Cat Hair. Initially I was working on rescuing one kitty and within a few hours it turned into three kitties needing help. This is the story of one of those kitties.
Tuesday night I started getting text messages from Maria. Her sister-in-law's friend found an injured cat. They didn't know what to do and weren't going to take it to a Vet. His left front leg was DANGLING and he had a bloody wound under his shoulder. He was acting okay otherwise so they LET HIM BACK OUTSIDE since they didn't want an indoor cat. Fortunately, for him, he came back that night, but they had no intentions of helping him other than rinsing off the wound with saline.
Maria and I started a frantic dialog trying to sort out what our options were. Maria was already taking another cat for me, plus we are going to possibly take in a second cat who needs help, too. Maria started calling and texting everyone she could while I offered her suggestions about how we could get this cat vetted in the morning and what we were going to do next while I was trying to sort out how much money we had and how much it was going to cost to help this cat-without knowing if he needed delicate restoration on his leg or an amputation.
The kitty after the family found him.You can see his left front leg looks a bit odd and he appears to be uncomfortable.
MaryEllen at Winging Cat Rescue offered to foster him for a few weeks if we got the cat vetted. I wasn't even sure we had any funds to do this, but it can't wait. He needed help NOW. Maria sent me photos and they broke my heart. I won't share the gorey photo with you, but the cat was clearly going to lose his leg, we just needed to get him help before it was too late.
I spent the night worrying about what to do. How would I find homes for two handicapped cats? Well, I just would. It would work out. Worry about it later. The cats needed care right away so we would just focus on that.
Wednesday morning I got an update.The orange tabby needed to have his leg removed, including the shoulder. He had puncture wounds under his arm and was battling a massive infection. A DOG or WILD ANIMAL had been trying to rip his leg off. As someone still recovering from a cat bite to my hand, I understood the severity of the situation. The tabby hadn't had antibiotics for a few days. He didn't have much time left before the infection spread to his heart and killed him. I was told he was a very very sweet cat, which somehow made the news even worse. Even if they put him on antibiotics and let his wounds heal, it would be a week before he could have any surgery done to correct his leg and it was likely the nerves were severed and could not be repaired. I think it was just too far gone for too long.
Making the very difficult decision…
Winging Cat Rescue offered to take the cat into their program. In a way I was disappointed that we couldn't help him more, but they have much better resources than I do. They've named him Rawhide and once he's had time to recover from his injury he will be put up for adoption. If you'd like to know more about how to give this very sweet and mellow kitty a home, or help with his Vet care, please contact WCR or visit their website.
As for the kitty who is our latest rescue, get your box of tissues out. The next post is going to be tougher to read than this one, but also reveals some amazing surprises.
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Update: The family who took the cat into their home, who said they couldn't afford Vet care for Rawhide and let him basically suffer for a few days, said their child has formed a bond with the cat and they want to adopt him…but they have three dogs and they will let the cat go back outdoors since they don't want an "inside" cat. While I think it's very nice they want to adopt, I hope Rawhide finds a home with a family who can be sensitive to his needs and be able to provide for all aspects of his well being. This is a lovely cat who's been through Hell. He deserves a safe and loving environment and I hope he finds one soon.
While Bobette recovers from surgery, her boys have had some interesting adventures. Sadly, I had to separate them from her because she was very agitated with them in the same room. Since she arrived in Connecticut a few months ago, she hasn't been all that thrilled with them being around so it's better they're in their own space.
As you may recall, Teddy Boo was adopted at the very end of last year. He went to a newlywed couple who had a giant, 2 year old Great Dane named, Roxy, who “forgot her training” when she saw little Teddy running around (meaning, Teddy was in danger of to becoming a snack). They felt, and I strongly agreed, that Teddy should be returned to us to be re-homed. You can read more about Teddy's return HERE.
Teddy's return ended up being perfect timing for Jakey. You see, Jakey was all alone, miserable and not eating after the suprising and sudden adoption of his brother, Mikey!
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Last year I got an application for Mikey from a woman in Massachusetts. It was an amazing application, followed by an amazing Vet reference. I didn't worry too much that it was an out-of-state adoption partly due to the “wonderfulness” of the application, but also because we've had a very good track record with Tweetie and Chester, who also live with equally awesome families in neighboring towns. Maybe there's something in the water in MA that grows great cat parents?
Sadly, a few days later she changed her mind. She and her husband had just gone through a very bad adoption where the rescue group had lied about the cat's age, saying it was a kitten when it was a few years old. The cat's health was also in question. The couple ended up spending a great deal of money to provide care for the cat from the day she arrived. In the end, the cat, now healthy, was returned to the rescue, because she was not what they had very clearly asked for-and even if that had been the only reason, she was not a good fit for their family. They didn't care about the money they spent. They wanted the cat to have the care she needed. If the rescue had been honest, they would have chosen another cat right off the bat. Now the husband was pushing back saying he was too distressed over what happened-of course-he had a bond with the cat, then had to give her up. He did not want to trust another rescue group. I didn't blame them at all and felt responsible for proving to them that all rescues were not like that and assured them that I run a very transparent operation. Lying never works. It always comes back to bite you in the ass. I was very disappointed that the adoption fell through. This would have been a great home.
I got other applications on the Pumpkin patch boys, but none were a good fit. I kept hoping we'd get something in that just seemed right to me, had good Vet references and weren't going to be gone all day. These boys wouldn't do well if left alone for 8 or 10 hours a day. It was a lot to ask, but I decided to wait it out and hope for the best. It's always a risk to wait because the kittens grow so quickly and were already growing out of their super-cute-kittenhood-size.
Just after Bobette had her surgery, I got an email. I recognized the name, but couldn't quite recall who it was. Her note was short. “We're ready to adopt. By any chance, is Mikey still available? Please say YES!” It was Tereza. The woman who had written me over a month before-my dream adopter!
I said yes, he was here, but with Teddy gone that I really wanted Jakey to go with Mikey if possible. Tereza and her husband already have two other ginger cats and only wanted a third. I almost let the adoption fall through, but I realized that Mikey would not be alone, he'd have other kitty buddies and he's have a great home where he'd have everything he needed. As I considered letting Mikey go on his own, Tereza started to email me photos of her home and her cats-reassuring me Mikey needed to be with her family-that she felt it was “meant to be.” Perhaps this is something that might sound odd to most people, but I had a tickle in my gut that agreed with her assessment. Maybe it WAS meant to be?
I'd have to work out how to manage Jakey being alone. After thinking about it for a few hours, I wrote back and said YES, they could adopt Mikey.
It took a few days to get Mikey back to Dr. Mixon for yet another health certificate (his third), but by that evening, Tereza and her husband, Larry had driven down to meet Mikey. It was clear from Tereza's emails that she couldn't wait to get here.
Tereza works for an International Non-Profit Organization. Their mission is to “engage people worldwide in scientific field research and education in order to promote the understanding and action necessary for a sustainable environment.” Between driving a few hours to my home after a long day at work, she still had to make a call to China at 8pm to talk to them about how they're handling their baby panda program! WHAT?! Oh yes, and she'd probably be traveling to China to, you know…MEET THE BABY PANDAS! (Please stuff me in your suitcase!). Suddenly, I wished I'd combed my hair or put on makeup or even shoes.
Tereza's had the sort of life you read about in books. Since I don't know what's okay to talk to you about and what's not, let's just say that she's been to 193 countries-are there that many? And she's seen the worst in humanity, but somehow still smiles and has a love for helping others—especially animals. Yeah, I have a crush on her! Who wouldn't?
Then out of left field, comes Larry. Larry is Tereza's husband. Larry called me from the car to let me know they were about 30 minutes away. I remembered that the street sign was stolen (again) and when I warned him about it, he replied; “Well, there's no way we did it.”
I was so focused on preparing for their arrival, I didn't even realize he was joking with me. I'd find out a few minutes later that Larry was not at all what I expected.
The couple arrived carrying a HUGE soft sided cat carrier. Inside it was a plush cat bed and a toy. I think if I cut my legs off I would have fit inside there pretty easily and been more than comfortable, if you don't count the gorey part about my legs not being included.
They we're both dressed very nicely. It made me want to hide under a sheet. One of them smelled very good. I'm guessing it was Tereza. She also had a very blingy-sparkly wedding/engagement band set that was dripping with diamonds, but of course I didn't notice.
I showed them around and they met a few of my cats, but I realized they were in a hurry so I brought them upstairs to the foster room. Before they arrived I moved Bobette out. Sam was holding her in our bedroom. Jakey was in the bathroom by himself so they'd only see Mikey when they entered the foster room. We walked into the room and Mikey meowed and I picked him up. I put him into Tereza's arms and he started to purr. I said “here's your cat” and that was pretty much it. Larry said the room smelled like monkey butt, which made me sad that he knows what a monkey's butt smells like. Tereza chastised him, understanding that a closed up, small room with a litter pan in it-even if I scoop it out a few times a day, may not smell the best. Larry had a twinkle in his eye-even if he was telling the truth, he clearly was enjoying himself.
Normally I don't push ANY cat on an adopter, but this time I didn't even worry about it. We left the monkey-butt room and went downstairs to fill out the paperwork. Jakey started to cry and Tereza started to feel badly. Part of me wished they'd have a change of heart, but this was one thing I would never do-if they want one cat, they get one cat. Once in awhile adopters change their mind, but this time was not one of those times. I reminded Tereza that although it might be difficult on Jakey, that I would get him a great home, too and not to feel badly.
Meanwhile, Larry is telling me he used to write jokes for J.J. Walker, the guy on Good Times, remember that show? But wait…Larry has a PHd in something fancy and important and he worked for Pfizer-where my parents met and fell in love and because of that company, I'm here before you today. Later I found out that Tereza's Mother and my Mother have the exact same birthday. I told her not to tell me anything else because I'm wondering if we are related somewhere, somehow. I really clicked with these awesome people and was very sad they had to leave not long after they arrived.
I packed up Mikey, giving him a kiss before he left and bid the couple a fond farewell. Tereza and Larry will be renaming him, Churchill, or Churchy, since Tereza is veddy British, tut, tut!
That night I got an email from Teddy's family stating they wanted to return him. It would mean that Jakey would only have to spend 24 hours alone, then he'd be reunited with his other brother. This was all going to work out just fine. Maybe Tereza was right? It was meant to be all along.
WARNING: THERE ARE GRAPHIC PHOTOS OF BOBETTE'S SURGERY IN PART TWO OF THIS POST. WHILE THEY ARE NOT CLOSE UP OR VERY GORY, PLEASE VIEW WITH DISCRETION. THIS IS PART TWO-YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
The monitor attached to Bobette continued to beep in a steady rhythm as Dr. Mixon prepared to make the first incision into her left rear leg. I held my breath as he pressed the scalpel blade into her flesh. For some reason I expected a lot of blood to shoot out all over the room. I guess I've watched one too many horror movies.
The skin gave way, with little blood escaping from the opening. Right away I felt sick to my stomach. It was partly due to having only had some apple juice for breakfast; I first thought, but as the Dr. kept working the blade, it dawned on me that this thing he was cutting into looked a lot like a raw chicken leg. It was deeply disturbing to me to be hit with the mixed emotions of my brain recognizing “food” versus my conscious mind being completely DISGUSTED with myself for even thinking that. I wanted to throw up. It was clear to me why Dr. Mixon is a vegan. I started to seriously think about giving up meat, myself, but never thought I had the fortitude to stick with it. Maybe now I did.
Dr. Mixon was very focused on what he was doing. I focused on staying out of the way. The Tech was at attention, ready to hand him something or adjust the lamps. I learned that once the patient was draped, the area that was blue was NOT to be TOUCHED or even LEANED over. Being a chubby monkey, who is far from a limber ballerina, I was even more worried that any second now I'd crash into something and take the contents of a shelf down with me. The room just had enough space for all of us and the equipment. I also didn't want to distract Dr. Mixon so I just stood still and tried not to want to sit down. We'd already been on our feet for a few hours and had a long while yet to go, but my back complained. The Tech stretched her legs and arms. I guess I wasn't the only one who was already getting tired.
An alarm sounded on the monitor. Bobette's blood pressure was too low. This is the part in the TV show when someone yells; “Code Blue! Get the paddles!”
I asked what was going on. If Bobette was OK. Dr. Mixon looked at the monitor and said casually; “the monitor isn't always accurate…maybe Bobette's lines are kinked.”
Or maybe Bobette was going to DIE ANY SECOND! OHMYGOD!!!! I wanted to jump out of my skin while the Tech peeked under the layers of blue fabric to check on Bobette. She acknowledged that things looked all right, but Dr. Mixon quickly had her adjust the settings on the amount of fluid that was going into her IV as the monitor alarm kept going off. I bit my tongue, but I wanted to yell; “DO SOMETHING YOU'RE GOING TO LOSE HER!”
But again, this was not new to them as it was to me. Bobette's pressure went up very slightly. Dr. Mixon told me not to worry, but I worried anyway. Bobette wasn't his cat. (Of course this is where I start wondering what the heck I'm doing in an operating room in the first place.)
Eventually her pressure went up to with an acceptable range. I thought about how fragile Bobette was at this moment. The twist of a dial, a kink in a tiny plastic line into her front leg, could mean her death. Thinking about this put me on edge even more.
As Dr. Mixon teased some of the muscle out of the way, looking for Bobette's kneecap, he made some familiar sounds. I was transported back in time to my childhood, when my dad was trying to fix the faucet. I was to hold the tools and hand them to him when he asked. He must have realized he forgot a part or encountered something he didn't expect because he unleashed a torrent of profanity. While Dr. Mixon is far more reserved, I could tell from his sighs and grunts that he was having difficulty. As he worked, he began to describe what he saw.
Bobette was in far worse shape than we anticipated. Her patella, may never have been in place or was not in place for very long. There was no groove in the joint for her kneecap to float into. He had to use a small saw to shape a space for the kneecap to go. He also said her leg had twisted outward as she grew, so the muscles that wrapped around the leg were very out of place. Ideally, what should happen is her femur should be cut through and turned into the correct position-this was NOT something we could do in a few hours time and with only one tech. I imagined the recovery time from doing that would be very difficult, as well.
What he could do was after creating the groove for the kneecap, he would re-work how the muscles attached, pinning them down in places with nylon sutures, which would never dissolve and would permanently keep the muscles from popping back out and into their old position.
He used a chisel, then some sort of uber-nail clippers to trim away some bone. Each sound made me shiver. To me it looked like he was just carving up her leg and I couldn't imagine that what he was doing would help her at all. How would she ever walk on that leg after what he did? I also thought about Bobette. She was going to be in immense pain when she woke up. He kept teasing the muscles to release them in some areas. I didn't look too closely and just tried to take photos to get my mind off what he was doing.
It was nearly 2pm and we had started around 10:30am. Dr. Mixon had to pick his son up from school to take him to the Doctor. I offered to go get him, but of course, I can't due to security issues. Dr. Mixon said (thank goodness) that he did not want to rush the surgery so I left the operating room and got his phone. He had the Tech dial a number and put the phone on “speaker.” I guess he called his ex-wife who was not too happy to hear from him. I felt really guilty, but I also didn't want him to rush. He had done as much as he could, but needed time to suture Bobette's leg. As with everything else, it took a lot longer than I expected it would, but Dr. Mixon was very careful about making sure everything was done properly.
The monitor kept on beeping. I glanced over and saw that all Bobette's vitals were within safe limits. As Dr. Mixon finished suturing he swore. The kneecap had already moved out of place. He was able to get it back by pushing it in place, which he hadn't been able to do before the surgery. I asked him what her prognosis was and he wasn't very optimistic.
He thought it was likely her patella would pop back out. Perhaps it would not pop out too far and would pop back into place; he wasn't sure. I asked if she was going to lose her leg-soemthing I had feared all along. He said yes, probably, but not right now. My heart sank. After all this work to have it fail before she even got off the operating table was very disappointing. That said, we really had to wait and see.
The biggest hurdle now was to keep Bobette from bending her leg-at any cost. Bend the leg and the surgery was going to fail. She had to keep that leg straight for a week, at least.
But first things first-Bobette had to wake up from surgery. She'd been out for hours. We were all really tired from being on our feet for so long. Dr. Mixon left us to clean up the room. The Tech did most of the cleaning and I stayed with Bobette. We had to furiously rub her to get her to wake up after all the life support was removed. She was left her intubated until she swallowed for the first time. I don't know why that is, but I do know it took a long time for her to be ready for the tube to come out. I worried she wasn't going to wake up.
Once she was awake, she was very crabby and started moaning. It was difficult and frightening to hold her down. She started to thrash violently in her cage and I called out for help. I was so worried she would break her leg she was writhing around so hard. We wrapped her in a towel like a kitty-burrito. She quieted down, but moaned a great deal more earnestly. I held her paw and told her it was going to be all right. I could only imagine how terrible she had to be feeling at that moment. I wondered if it was all in vain. I prayed it would work out in time.
We gave Bobette another pain killer and she quieted down. The Tech said it was okay for me to go home-which I did gladly.
I got home around 4pm and finally had something to eat. As I started to unwind, my eyelids grew heavy. I dragged myself upstairs, took off some of my clothes and fell, exhausted into bed. I slept until 7pm-the beep…beep…beep of the monitor still ringing in my ears.
…up next…part three, Bobette's Post Op Life…stay tuned…
WARNING: THERE ARE GRAPHIC PHOTOS OF BOBETTE'S SURGERY IN PART TWO OF THIS POST. WHILE THEY ARE NOT CLOSE UP OR VERY GORY, PLEASE VIEW WITH DISCRETION.
THIS IS PART ONE SO YOU'RE SAFE.
It's rather ironic that there's so much going on in my life to write about, yet I don't have time to write any of it down. Meanwhile the days slip by and the details become a bit fuzzy around the edges.
Last week marked the first time I'd ever witnessed anything more than a spay surgery. It was time for Bobette to have surgery to (hopefully) correct her luxated patella. The poor girl couldn't walk without limping. Her kneecap was so far out of place it was a wonder she could run or jump at all. She mostly used her other legs for jumping and if she got really inspired to go after a toy, her back end would slip out from under her when she ran. Clearly, she needed help, but there was no guarantee she would ever walk normally again. Getting a kneecap back in place is one thing, but to get it to STAY in place is another.
There was much to do to prep for Bobette's life after surgery. Dr. Mixon, her Vet, wanted her to have cage rest for three weeks, so I got out my biggest dog crate and set it up, not realizing I was making a big mistake. I'd never had a cat with an invasive surgery on a limb to recover from-of course I'd cared for Bob after 1/2 of his liver was removed just a year ago, but all I had to do for him was make sure he was eating and staying quiet on his heated bed. With Bobette, I'd have to keep her from moving at all costs. I hated to lock her up in a cage, and force her to wear the “cone of shame,” but she had to rest.
In the first week, should Bobette be able to bend her leg at all, she would ruin the surgery and her kneecap would pop back out. We had to give it time to set in it's new position and that meant a lot of sitting around. For a year old cat, who wants to play, that was a lot to ask for.
The morning of the surgery I was feeling hopeful, but scared. I thought I'd be sitting in the waiting room until they finished up, but Dr. Mixon came out and asked me, or was it told me?, I should come back and see the surgery. My heart dropped into my pants. ME? Watch? Even though I watch all those ER “reality” shows on TV, I ALWAYS look away when they get into the gory surgery scenes. There was no looking away from this, but could I handle it without throwing up or fainting?
I didn't realize I'd have to help out, which is not a problem at all, especially considering Dr. Mixon was doing the surgery for about $2000.00 less than an Orthopedic surgeon would have charged. Dr. Mixon is a General Practitioner, not a specialist, but he admittedly enjoys doing orthopedic procedures and another friend said her dog did well after Dr. M. did a similar surgery on him.
Bobette was sitting in her cat carrier, her pupils dilated. She hadn't had breakfast-of course-because anesthesia can cause the cat to vomit and you don't want her to aspirate anything into her lungs and get pneumonia. It's better not to have a full tummy (but you tell that to the cat!). Two days before we'd been in this same waiting room together, but only to get Bobette's pre-operative blood work done so we could make sure she'd be healthy enough for surgery. With three people holding her down, there was no way to get her blood, so we had to hope that being so young she'd be fine under anesthesia-this is not something I'm happy to report. I'm sure as we sat together, Bobette was getting very tense, probably reliving what happened those few days prior and I wondered if she'd become so fractious that we'd be able to do the surgery at all.
I brought her into the back of the Practice and sat her on an exam table. The Vet tech was getting supplies ready and I asked her to walk me through what was going to happen next and what she'd want me to do. Mostly I had to just hold Bobette down and not lose any fingers in the process but I kept thinking' “I'm a Graphic Designer! I'm a Graphic Designer. I'm NOT A VET TECH! WHAT AM I DOING HERE?!”.
I took the lead and spoke very calmly to Bobette. I didn't restrain her very tightly. We were very quiet as we worked on her. It wasn't difficult at all to give Bobette a few shots. One was to relax her so we could insert the IV, which would be in place during surgery and provide her with fluids. The other was the dreaded Metacam, which I challenged Dr. M. on giving her because it's known to cause renal failure. He quickly pushed back and said it was safe if she was kept hydrated. I was really tweaked that he gave it to her after all I'd heard about it killing cats more than helping them, but what could I do? Now I'm thinking we'll have to do a post op-blood test to see if she's ok.
I held Bobette down so the Tech could insert an IV into her leg. I was really feeling like a traitor. Here is this sweet cat. I don't know her very well, but I still care about her. She's scared, drugged up and only at the beginning of what is going to be a very awful day. I couldn't blame Bobette as she pitched a fit and shrieked as the Tech tried to shave her front leg. Try as we might, we couldn't get her to settle down so it was decided she needed to be gassed so she would just konk out.
The Tech grabbed a plastic storage tub with holes cut into either end. One end was taped up and the other was open. She attached a hose to the open end, then had me place Bobette inside the bin. She barely fit. I started to realize maybe this is what they do to kill cats at shelters? I wanted to grab the box, get Bobette out and RUN for it. This just seemed inhumane, but what do I know about this---nothing other than it really bothered me to see this happening.
The Tech snapped down the lid and turned a dial allowing the gas to enter the box. Bobette didn't fuss at all and in a few minutes was slumped down, oblivious to the world around her. It's VERY UNNERVING to see an unconscious cat. They might as well be dead, because it's not much different. I kept wondering how anyone could do this to animals every day and not have nightmares each night.The Tech told me she was going to remove the lid FAST. I had to get Bobette out of the box, then run with the box into a back room and NOT BREATHE ANYTHING IN OR I WOULD PASS OUT, TOO.
YIKES!
I told her to do a countdown and on…“1” we jumped into action. I couldn't be distracted by Bobette being so limp. I put her down, grabbed the box and ran off, making sure the lid didn't come back off. I was weirdly tempted to open the lid and take a big sniff so I had a reason not to see the surgery, but I figured I would hit my head when I passed out, too. Probably not the best idea.
Then began a very long process of preparing Bobette's leg for surgery. I kept wondering how long she could be unconscious without it doing her harm. The Tech asked me to adjust a light or hold something or get this or that. She began to shave Bobette and we discovered she has very odd fur. It grows in different directions and was difficult to trim down close to her skin. I noticed that Bobette has a tuft of fur on her neck that reminds me of Alfalfa from the Our Gang show (It's probably before your time, so here's a link )
Poor Bobette. I just wanted to take her home, but the surgery hadn't even begun. She looked so helpless laying on the table. I whispered to her that it was going to be okay. I hoped it wasn't a lie. A monitor nearby beeped every time her heart beat. As long as we heard the beep, she was okay.
Bobette's leg was wiped down a few times. Dr. Mixon saw what the Tech was doing and stopped her. She missed a spot on Bobett's leg right under the tape that held her leg in place. She had to shave it down and re-do all the antiseptic wipes, which again, Dr. Mixon corrected, making certain that the area where the sugary was being done was NOT getting wiped over twice. Even though it took a lot of time, I was glad he was a stickler for keeping things clean.
Bobette was fine so far. I was fine, too, but was glad I wasn't attached to a heart monitor because everyone would know just how scared I was. Bobette's monitor kept beeping along…beep…beep…beep.
Then Dr. Mixon began draping Bobette with layers of cloth that would allow him to focus only on her leg and also to keep the surgical area cleaner. I kept thinking that surely he was done, but he'd add another layer. Then he slipped a small sock over Bobette's leg and cut a hole into it which was over the area where he'd be making the incision. After he created the opening, he quickly sutured around the edges of the opening so the fabric would stay in place. This was the final task he had before he could get started.
He was very focused and there was little talking. The only sound was the beeping of the monitor. Dr. Mixon looked up for a moment and said; “Now you know why these surgeries cost so much money.” And even before he made one cut, I understood. The prep work took at least an hour if not more. When he was done, Bobette the cat was gone and in her place was an alien leg sprouting from a field of pale green sterile sheets.
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