Monday, December 5, 2011
Worry, worry, worry
After the ordeal with the little orange tabby, I'm left to worry about my little colony and the exposure they may have had to feline leukemia. I'm going to research the best course of action for getting them tested again - how long should I wait after possible exposure? On the plus side, they don't seem to have interaction with other cats that have occasionally come by. Tabby, the male, actually seems to go out of his way to avoid confrontation. I hope it was enough to keep them safe.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Not every story has a happy ending
We've seen a little orange tabby cat (not part of our colony) a few times over the last couple of weeks. Last night, when I was walking our 2 dogs (Rajah and Maya), little orange tabby came toward us and seemed to be injured. He was lifting his right hind leg and as he got closer, I noticed it was bloody as well. Why do things like this with animals and children always happen at 9:30 at night and not during normal doctor (or vet) hours? I took the dogs inside and came back with some cat treats. He limped towards me without any fear, so I petted him a little. He seemed like such a sweet little guy with pretty orange striping and a little pink nose. I placed some of the treats inside an old dog carrier we have in the garage and he walked right inside without hesitation. He wasn't too happy when I closed the door of the carrier and meowed loudly to let me know it. I brought him inside and placed him in a room away from our other cats (a decision I would be very grateful for later).
After making a couple of calls, I found a 24-hour emergency vet and off we went. The dog carrier is so large that it won't fit in the back seat of my car, so my 12 year old daughter, Emily, had to ride in back and the poor little meowing tabby road shotgun. Fifteen minutes later we were at the animal hospital and being shown to an exam room. We waited for what seemed like an eternity (apparently animal emergency clinics operate at the same pace as human emergency rooms) and finally the technician came in. Little orange tabby was perfectly fine being carried to get his weight and temperature checked. He seemed like a friendly cat who had at least had enough involvement with people to enjoy petting and being handled. After a few minutes, he was brought back to the crate and we waited for another eternity to see a doctor. He looked at us through the holes in the carrier and we tried to calm him with "Good boy" and "You're going to be okay, little guy."
It's always interesting to take a stray animal to a vet clinic. As much as they seem to appreciate the efforts of someone trying to care for these homeless little ones, there seems to be an equal amount of concern about whether or not you're going to pay them. I can only imagine that this happens a lot - some well-meaning person brings in an animal they find for help, but doesn't want to spend the money necessary for the treatment needed. So most of my conversation with the doctor on this night revolved around his giving me a cost estimate of the treatment and whether or not I was willing to pay for it. I assured them that I would pay for whatever was needed and offered my credit card and a hefty deposit.
Earlier in the evening, I noticed my stomach beginning to churn and the smells in the vet office were not helping that situation in the least. Finally a wave a nausea came over me that I could no longer fight, so I ran to the nearby dingy little restroom and lost most of my dinner. And that's how it went for the next hour or so. Little bits of information about orange tabby's condition would trickle in and I would head back to the restroom to get sick in between.
We finally went home after they told us some tests were needed to see if he had feline leukemia and they would call us with the results. After that, we could decide what would be next for this little guy. I tucked Emily in and tried to get some rest with Rajah and Maya on each side of me in bed. Sleep didn't come though between waiting for the call and continuing to get sick throughout the night. At some point I must have dozed off, because I woke to the phone ringing at around 7:30 am (I had already decided to let Emily sleep in and take her to school later in the morning after such a rough night). It was the vet and he let me know right away that the news wasn't good. Little orange tabby tested positive for feline leukemia. There were multiple sores on his body that weren't healing because of the disease and his leg wouldn't heal properly either. He was uncomfortable and they couldn't get him to stop tearing at the bandages. "We're recommending that he be euthanized."
It's strange that when you're in the middle of hearing bad news, you only hear these little bits and pieces of what's being said. "feline leukemia," "no cure," "euthanize." Just little sound bites of the conversation. I told the vet that I needed to talk with my husband and get back to him. What I really needed was to lie back down and try to get rid of the wave of nausea that was making a comeback.
I called my husband, Randy, and between sobs told him about the conversation with the vet. We agreed that we didn't want little orange tabby to suffer. I barely knew this cat, but here we were, making this important decision about his life and death. We knew it was best not to make him live in pain with wounds that wouldn't heal until he ultimately died, but it didn't make the decision any easier. Randy called the vet back with the decision since I was barely able to get out coherent words at the moment. It's moments like this when I truly realize how much he loves me.
And that was it. I couldn't save little orange tabby. Please let this dear, sweet little boy rest in peace. I just hope on some level, he knew that someone cared for him, even if it was just for a little while. Someone loved him enough to bring him in out of the cold and take him to the vet in the middle of the night. Someone fed him a meal that he ate like it was the best thing in the world. Someone petted him and told him he was a good boy and that everything would be okay. He was a good boy, and I hope that somewhere everything is okay.
After making a couple of calls, I found a 24-hour emergency vet and off we went. The dog carrier is so large that it won't fit in the back seat of my car, so my 12 year old daughter, Emily, had to ride in back and the poor little meowing tabby road shotgun. Fifteen minutes later we were at the animal hospital and being shown to an exam room. We waited for what seemed like an eternity (apparently animal emergency clinics operate at the same pace as human emergency rooms) and finally the technician came in. Little orange tabby was perfectly fine being carried to get his weight and temperature checked. He seemed like a friendly cat who had at least had enough involvement with people to enjoy petting and being handled. After a few minutes, he was brought back to the crate and we waited for another eternity to see a doctor. He looked at us through the holes in the carrier and we tried to calm him with "Good boy" and "You're going to be okay, little guy."
It's always interesting to take a stray animal to a vet clinic. As much as they seem to appreciate the efforts of someone trying to care for these homeless little ones, there seems to be an equal amount of concern about whether or not you're going to pay them. I can only imagine that this happens a lot - some well-meaning person brings in an animal they find for help, but doesn't want to spend the money necessary for the treatment needed. So most of my conversation with the doctor on this night revolved around his giving me a cost estimate of the treatment and whether or not I was willing to pay for it. I assured them that I would pay for whatever was needed and offered my credit card and a hefty deposit.
Earlier in the evening, I noticed my stomach beginning to churn and the smells in the vet office were not helping that situation in the least. Finally a wave a nausea came over me that I could no longer fight, so I ran to the nearby dingy little restroom and lost most of my dinner. And that's how it went for the next hour or so. Little bits of information about orange tabby's condition would trickle in and I would head back to the restroom to get sick in between.
We finally went home after they told us some tests were needed to see if he had feline leukemia and they would call us with the results. After that, we could decide what would be next for this little guy. I tucked Emily in and tried to get some rest with Rajah and Maya on each side of me in bed. Sleep didn't come though between waiting for the call and continuing to get sick throughout the night. At some point I must have dozed off, because I woke to the phone ringing at around 7:30 am (I had already decided to let Emily sleep in and take her to school later in the morning after such a rough night). It was the vet and he let me know right away that the news wasn't good. Little orange tabby tested positive for feline leukemia. There were multiple sores on his body that weren't healing because of the disease and his leg wouldn't heal properly either. He was uncomfortable and they couldn't get him to stop tearing at the bandages. "We're recommending that he be euthanized."
It's strange that when you're in the middle of hearing bad news, you only hear these little bits and pieces of what's being said. "feline leukemia," "no cure," "euthanize." Just little sound bites of the conversation. I told the vet that I needed to talk with my husband and get back to him. What I really needed was to lie back down and try to get rid of the wave of nausea that was making a comeback.
I called my husband, Randy, and between sobs told him about the conversation with the vet. We agreed that we didn't want little orange tabby to suffer. I barely knew this cat, but here we were, making this important decision about his life and death. We knew it was best not to make him live in pain with wounds that wouldn't heal until he ultimately died, but it didn't make the decision any easier. Randy called the vet back with the decision since I was barely able to get out coherent words at the moment. It's moments like this when I truly realize how much he loves me.
And that was it. I couldn't save little orange tabby. Please let this dear, sweet little boy rest in peace. I just hope on some level, he knew that someone cared for him, even if it was just for a little while. Someone loved him enough to bring him in out of the cold and take him to the vet in the middle of the night. Someone fed him a meal that he ate like it was the best thing in the world. Someone petted him and told him he was a good boy and that everything would be okay. He was a good boy, and I hope that somewhere everything is okay.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Welcome to The Cat Project
Over the last year, my family and I have become the caretakers of a small cat colony. This is a completely new experience for me as I've been allergic to cats my entire life and have always been a 'dog person.' The first time I saw the cats lounging outside (and tormenting my two dogs!), I could never have imagined the journey I was about to go on with these little guys...
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