| Caution: This story is two and a half pages long, and has a happy ending.
A few weeks ago, we spotted Bailey in our backyard after a few days absence.
Bailey is one of the 7 strays we rescued when we lived in a city setting,
and moved with us to the country. We still have three of them. Bailey has
always been the shyest and wildest of the three. He is a lean, trim, grey
stipe tabby with soft down-like fur.
Bailey was crouched under a pine tree. I approached him and he didn't come
out to greet me: a sign of trouble. I crept closer, and saw that his
face, especially around the mouth, was swollen, bloody, and badly messed
up. I tried to coax him to me, but he ran. When he ran, he fell several
times, as if he had a severe injury. Even though he was weak and had gone
without food and water, he evaded me, running into the woods.
I spent the rest of the day trying to catch him. I set out a box and
blanket, soft food, and water. I could usually tell what area he was in,
because he would sometimes cry. I couldn't catch him. Without catching
him, I expected to have to retrieve his body from the woods after he died.
Later that day, I went to rummage through my shed to get brush cutting
tools so I could retrieve him. He was sitting on the seat of my tractor,
sleeping. He must have been reminded of where home was when he saw me and
I called to him all afternoon. I got a box, and put on heavy gloves, and
my cousin waited behind me with the box while I went in to get him. It
wasn't as hard as I expected; he must have been very weak. He struggled
wildly when we put him in the box.
We drove to the 24 hour veterinary hospital (there is only one in our area),
and called ahead to tell them we were coming. I prepared myself for my
first cat euthanasia.
We were rushed in. We pulled Bailey out of the box; he didn't struggle any
more. The vet looked him over. Now that I had a good look, It appeared to
me that his head had been hit by a car. After a few minutes, the vet said
"There's nothing terribly wrong with this kitty. He's dehydrated, infected,
and has a broken lower jaw, but I don't think it's fragmented. Let's
keep him here a day to get stabilized, get some X-rays, and go from there.
If you want to do that."
Of course I wanted to do that!
Two days later, we went back to see him and discuss his condition with our
assigned doctor. She seemed to know what she was doing. His lower jaw was
split down the middle. He would need a wire to set the jaw for healing,
some tooth surgery, and a lot of rest. It would probably be about $300. We
said do it!
We picked him up two days after that. He was still thin, weak, and now
that he'd been fed and hydrated, he was wild! We kept him in his own
bedroom to isolate him from being bothered by the other five indoor cats,
and to see if he could be litter-trained. We had to feed him a paste
of watered-down ground canned food. He would lay his head in the dish and
suck it in. He couldn't clean himself because if hurt his mouth. We spent
lots of time with him, and sponged him clean. He smelled awful from the
infection. We had to give him medicine three times a day. He got better
at eating, and learned to use the litter. You could see the wire: It was
looped under the jaw where we couldn't see it, up over each side of the
gums where we could see it, then down the inside of his jaw, thorough the
center of it, and the ends were twisted together protruding out his chin.
And the end was sharp. I got cut on it several times, since he began to
show his appreciation the way every cat does: give you a good stiff rub
of the chin.
After two weeks, he became more stable, and would get up and walk around.
Then I noticed him falling, just like when I chased him into the woods. He
seemed to fall to one side, abruptly, and without warning. He fell all the
way down our stairs when he wandered too close to the top. It seemed
serious. Just when he was beginning to recover, and we were getting used
to the idea of a sixth indoor kitty (set home/catmax=catmax+1).
We hauled him in to the vet again. I helped her perform a full orthopedic
and neurological examination (took a full hour.) If you've never done
this, you've got to see it. It doesn't hurt the cat, but boy does it annoy
him!!! First, I pinned Bailey down and the vet flexed every limb, checking
for reach, operation, bone position, etc. You could see the annoyance in
Bailey's eyes. Then, we poke at Bailey's face with a dull pen cap, and
then a needle, to see if he is sensitive to all locations around his head.
Just the sort of thing a four-year-old does to a cat, and you make them
stop because it teases the cat, but you laugh a little anyway. He survived
it, but it was inconclusive.
Without very expensive tests, we can't tell what sort of head trauma may
have been suffered. We took the chance that that was it, and gave him a
medicine designed to correct inflammation of the brain lining due to head
trauma (same kind of stuff used to treat arthritis, but very strong and
somewhat risky, as it leaves the cat prone to many other infections.)
After two days, of treatment, there was an 80% improvement. After the five
day full treatment, 99% of the problem was eliminated. Success.
He continued to improve. He began to go from room to room upstairs, and
even downstairs once in a while. The other cats would avoid him and hiss
at him because (a) he was new and (b) he smelled bad from the dead tissue
from his infection. He began to eat canned food without making it into a
paste. He would curl up in your lap for quite a while, but any noise (even
the TV) or challenge from another cat would send him running for "his"
room.
We went to get his wire out, expecting that another two days in the
hospital would set him back a bit in his emotional progress. In fact, he
was real glad to be home again, and got right back into his pattern again.
By the way, total cost of care: $550. Whew.
His recovery was now almost complete. The smell stopped, and he began to
establish himself in the social order, challenging everyone. He became
number two. Only Klaus refused to yield. He began eating tougher food,
even snacking on dry once in a while. And he became a kitten. Yes, at two
years old, he began to behave like a two-month old. Run, zip, zoom. Up,
down. Leap. Crash. Boom. Chase. A friend explained: One of his lives
was lost, now he's a kitten in his next life. Makes sense to me!
Now, he's just another indoor cat. He's the most affectionate (after being
the most wild!) and spends hours in our laps. He it very content to be an
indoor cat. He never tries to get out anymore. He still remembers,
though. Last weekend, he got the spray bottle and a loud reprimand for
exercising his claws on the new kitchen chairs.
A minute later, he was sitting by the door, as if he thought his welcome was
worn out. Tough to discipline when they do that to you. Despite the extra
load on the litter and space lost on the bed, I'm glad he's able to be an
indoor cat now.
Klaus, Katrina, Phantom, Nutmeg, Coconut, Bailey, Georgina, Bosco,
diane and i (bill)
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