December 20, 1997 - Problem child, er, cat

~~Problem child, er, cat ~~

Saturday, December 20, 1997, 10:20 a.m.

WillaBob left at some ridiculous hour like 5:00 a.m. to go goose hunting with some friends, and I went back to sleep, waking up at around 7:30. I laid there and thought about what I could do. The vet appointment is at 11:00, so I couldn't really go out and do any shopping or anything and get back in time to take her. I could get up and write, or wrap presents, or finish decorating the Christmas tree . . . What I ended up doing, of course, was going back to sleep. I woke up at 10:00, glanced at the clock, and started to roll back over and go back to sleep, then thought, "Yikes!" and jumped out of bed.

WillaWell, I didn't exactly think "Yikes," it was something slightly stronger than that. And I didn't exactly jump out of bed. But I did get up rather quickly, wash my face, get dressed, and carry Pyewacket downstairs for breakfast. She can hardly walk now. She spent the entire night, as far as I can tell, in the chair next to the bed, which has never happened before. I'm sure that it's pretty difficult to figure out how to walk on three legs, so it may look worse than it actually is, but it looks pretty bad. Poor little thing. I know I've been gently complaining about her rambunctiousness, but I'd much rather have her that way than limping around on three legs.

WillaBarb wrote this morning, "I hope she doesn't turn out to be a "problem" cat," but it's becoming apparent that she is, I think. Last night I was thinking that it was like having a tomboy who's always getting into trouble or hurting themselves, and really, that's what she looks like. She's so compact and sturdy. I like that. I think she's a great looking cat.

WillaOn Thursday night when we were having dinner with John and Leslie, Bob was talking about the cat and telling about how much we've spent on her over the last month. John said, "Well, you wouldn't have if you weren't using the Vet to the Stars."

1:00 p.m.

WillaJust got home from the vet's. It was a madhouse there, they were running late because of emergencies, the waiting room was full of enormous dogs--a boxer, a Wiemeraner, an Irish Setter. And a dachshaund. And a tiny, tiny black and gold kitten named Precious. And us. Me and Pyewacket, who are thinking of moving in up at the animal hospital, since we spend so much time there.

WillaShe has a broken leg. A greenstick fracture of the front bone in her right front leg. X-rays (two sets) and splints, plus booster shots and a check for intestinal parasites (all gone, finally). The receptionists give me sympathetic looks now when they tell me how much it is. I just sigh and write the check.

WillaSo Pye is dragging around a bright blue immobilized leg now, and it's driving her crazy. She keeps trying to shake it off, and she's licked it a little bit. I assume she'll get used to it, but right now she's very annoyed. She keeps trying to back away from it, she hasn't totally figured out that it's attached to her. I'm supposed to watch and be sure her toes don't swell, and take her back in a week from Monday for more x-rays. The doctor said that kittens heal really quickly because their bones are growing so fast, so he'll probably be able to take the splint off then.

YOUR VET WILL BE WITH YOU SHORTLY.

SIT. STAY.

6:00 p.m.

WillaPoor little Pyewacket is sitting on my lap now, with her splinted leg stretched out in front of her. When I got home from shopping this afternoon, Bob was already home and she was lying on his lap. "So what's the story with the leg?" he asked. I told him that it was broken, she had x-rays and shots, and the leg is splinted and wrapped for about ten days; he said, "Don't even tell me what it cost."

8:00 p.m.

WillaI went to WalMart today to return the cat window seat that wouldn't fit my window. I didn't figure the return counter would be too busy, but it was. I stood in line for about fifteen minutes, but I wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere, and it was okay. There was one thing I wanted to pick up for Bob in the sporting goods department, so I did that and then went and stood in the check-out line. There were a couple of young boys in front of me buying two pairs of house slippers--one men's and one women's. They were whispering among themselves and counting their money, and they also had something else that they were buying, but I couldn't see what it was.

WillaThe cashier rang up their purchases and told them the total--$23 and change. Their faces fell, they had another hurried, whispered conversation, and the oldest one, probably ten, said, "Well, take off the walkie-talkies, then. And the batteries."

Previous Entry | Next Entry