Scaredy cat

Our lovely little kitty got herself in a bit of  scrap last Thursday night. Having spent her whole life as an indoor kitty she is a bit overwhelmed by OUTSIDE, and usually contains her forays to the back yard. She loves to roll on the warm concrete porch and chase bugs in the flower beds, but always comes in when it looks like she may be in danger of getting locked OUTSIDE. Somehow or other, Thursday night found her OUTSIDE when we all went to bed. Here’s a picture of our little princess on my, I mean HER, chair:

As I lay reading Thursday night, I heard the unmistakable sounds of a cat fight – except, this wasn’t the normal territorial yowling that the neighborhood toms usually serenade us with. This was pain and terror, pure and simple. I jumped out of bed and ran outside, but the noise had stopped and there weren’t any cats to be seen. I waited a few minutes, then figured I’d better make sure our cat was in the house. She was not.

I called her from the back door and she eventually peeked out from the carport, eyes wide as saucers. She slowly made her way towards the house but kept her distance from me, so I circled around behind her to shoo her into the house. When get got nearer, I saw blood.

A lot of blood.

Her white feet and belly were coated in it, and there were large drops of blood falling from her with every step. My heart skipped a beat and I reached for her, but she scooted away and through the house, trailing blood behind her. I grabbed a towel from the laundry basket and managed to toss it over her, scooping her into my arms. She was terrified, shaking, and bleeding.

I calmed her down for a couple of minutes and then tried to assess the damage, but there was so much blood everywhere I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. I put her in the kitchen sink and rinsed her off, thereby adding insult to injury. Despite the angry yowls, I was able to see that the wound was in her upper arm, and not her belly like I had feared. I wrapped her in a clean towel and just held her for awhile, before letting her down to see what she did.

Her gait was slow, and she kept her tail low to the ground, but she was walking and the bleeding had stopped so I decided she would be Ok through the night. In the morning, she was sleeping on a footstool but she got up and had a few bites to eat. I’ve seen my share of injured pets, and the fact that she was both mobile and hungry made me feel a lot better.

When I got home from work, I took her to the vet to be checked out. Cat wounds have a tendency to become nasty abscesses, so I figured a round of antibiotics were in order. The vet agreed, and when she shaved her arm to examine the wounds I was shocked to see the extent of the bruising. It was bright purple from armpit to paw. No wonder she was walking tenderly. (her skin is normally a creamy white)

So, we headed home with a round of antibiotics and a few doses of anti-inflammatory / pain relief.  It would be a gross understatement to say that Snickerdoodle isn’t fond of the medicine…

It’s liquid, so it entails wrapping her in a towel and holding her down with the help of a sturdy house member while forcibly opening her mouth to squirt microscopic bits of medicine past her razor-sharp teeth (too much at one time and she just spits it out) all while avoiding her Houdini-like ability to free the weapons conveniently located on four limber legs. Twice a day, for two weeks.

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About wonkydonkey

You want random? You got it. Mostly knitting and gardening, with some home improvements, pets, baking, family, and the occasional bad joke thrown in for good measure. This blog is mine; it is a place where I can insist upon proper grammar or break my own rules and degrade into slang on a whim. Either way, it's still mine. I love the Internet.
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