Kitty is progressing. Oh my goodness, I'm so hopeful for her. Every day there seem to be improvements.
She has and is:
stretched her back toes.
moved her tail.
watched a bird in the tree outside my bedroom window.
licked her fur. sat up on her rump. drinking water that I give her through a medicine dropper every hour.
eaten some super nutrient packed soft food, that I got from a vet, from the tip of my finger.
takes a pain pill, lathered in butter or food, once a day.
At first I told Jolie to try and not get her hopes up too high. We have blown that all to bits. My hopes are so high and there is no controlling that. I can not control the rising hope. And why should I, really? Hope is sometimes all we can hold on to. Maybe we should let it excel. Maybe we should tell our hopes that the sky is the limit. No boundaries. Dream big. Maybe we should expect exactly what our hopes are hoping for and nothing less.
|toys from jolie with well wishes|
I'm sure, absolutely sure, that Kitty was losing hope when she was at the vet clinic, in that cage, with no windows, door shut, only strange animal doctor people there to check her here and there, throughout the day. She was giving up. We brought her home and all of our hopes have grown together. We can't help it.
|kitty's first morning back home. she was on a heating pad for the first day or so|
|middy was glad but concerned to see her buddy back home|
During the day, Kitty is on my bed, where she can look out the two windows that are the headboard. Daylight shines in on her, and she can see the birds in the tree just outside. She is confined to a very roomy crate at night, that she can see out of all sides, but right now, she lies beside me sleeping.
Last Friday was a nightmare. I called to check on her. She was still at the vet. They told me things were worse. She would probably have to be put to sleep. Jesus. After that conversation that morning, I got Jolie out of school to give her the option of seeing Kitty once more. I planned to let her see Kitty, then to take her to my mom's, and then I would to go back to the vet for my own last goodbye. That's a brutal thing to go through, and I already knew that Jolie didn't need to be, nor did she want to be there for that.
So, we did go for Jolie to say goodbye. That decision had actually been made! It was terrible. We cried. Jolie didn't want to leave. Her eyes, filled with tears, looked to me, pleading. Kitty looked really rough, almost lifeless, but did raise her head up a bit to see us. She was so weak. While speaking with the vet though, my mind changed. Someone had told me on the phone that morning that things were worse. Game changer. Blood in her urine, straight blood. However, while we were there to love Kitty one last time, the vet said that while things were in fact bad, this blood in the urine was a common thing. My mind had completely changed. I told them not to do anything. I would be back. When I told Jolie that she didn't have her final goodbye at that moment, she bubbled up with a laugh, really kind of a weird hysterical laugh. Man, what an emotional roller coaster ride, for sure. The worst.
Fast forward - We brought her home Saturday morning. Her eyes immediately opened back up into the round, marble, full moon shape, instead of the squinted, dull, groggy, rolling around we had seen. I have watched her breathing. Given water every hour through the medicine dropper. Smeared a finger tip of food into her jaw that she gradually licks down. The first time she stretched her toes, purred, twitched her tail, meowed just to say hello, instead of crying out a meow of pain because I had/have to move her from one side to her other... these were big deals. These were very hopeful moments.
If you were to see her and didn't know that she was hurt, you wouldn't think anything about it. She's just snoozin' on the bed looking totally fine. I hope that she will be totally fine. Some promising things have happened.
I get up with her a couple times a night. She meows and I greet her. Her kennel is within arms reach of my bed, so I can see her, but I get on the floor beside her and whisper to her and love on her and give water. Night before last she woke me with a meow, and I was amazed to see that she had gotten on her other side, back legs and all. Hopes rise.
The main thing here is can she control her bladder? Will she be able to walk? Will those nerves heal enough? I believe the answer is yes. She is gaining more feeling in her whole back side every day. I have witnessed her as she stretches and tries to get up and seems agitated. to then calm down, and it's because she had to pee. She knew it was coming, she feels her bladder! I think this is very hopeful.
I clean her fur with a warm, wet cloth, and dry it with a gentle rub down with a dry one. She seems to actually like this. She held her back leg up for this! She. held. it. up!
Also, I know some excellent people! I have excellent friends! The first or second night that we were home with Kitty, I didn't know/I couldn't tell if I was doing anything right. So many questions and second-guessing everything. I was scared and worried. I called or texted five people, and at one time or another, they all answered. A good friend showed up at my door, with two vet techs, within ten minutes of me calling her. Another good friend showed up a few minutes later just to offer love and support. Awesome.
There is something about our furry babies, isn't there. The look in their eyes. How they are always there for us. Their sweet spirits are pure, and honest, and trustworthy, and loyal, and full of love and adoration. They give unconditionally. There really is nothing like a pet that is a family member. Ours have let us lean on them and they on us even when our hopes were small, but growing big.