Five years ago, I was in our back yard watering the garden when I heard a faint little meow. I turned to see an almost full grown kitten. She was pretty. A calico. She cautiously came closer, and as she came closer I could see how skinny she was. Starved nearly. Bony.
I brought her to the front porch to a bowl of water and bowl of tuna. She lapped it up. Purring. Then leaning her head into my hand to let me rub her fur and purring some more. It was love at first sight.
She stuck around, fattened up, grew a thick, furry, beautiful coat, gave and received love.
She's not like the typical cats you hear of. She loves attention. She loves to give love. We whistle for her to come just like we do our dogs, and she comes every time. She's inside and outside. She meows when she wants to go outside, or if she sees us up walking through the house, she will give a little meow, like - Hey, if you could, I would like to go outside, please. Then when she wants to come in, she pecks at the window to our living room. She loves Jolie and Jolie loves her. When I'm typing away at this computer at my desk in front of the window, she's atop the printer on the desk. She's good company. She's got us wrapped. We are cool with that.
She's best buds with our big dog, Middy. Middy is a lab mix, and extremely awesome and extremely smart. Today, she has been looking to me for an answer. Where's she at? I know something's wrong. I was here, remember? I saw and heard the scene going on in the kitchen last night...
Tyler had just come home last night and said he had seen KittyKat lying in the driveway two doors down. Strange. It was dark outside. We went to see about her and there she was. Trying to push down the bubbling fear as I walked toward her. I whistled and she meowed. She twisted her body towards us, but she couldn't get up. Oh My God. I got to her and she was still trying to get to me and meowing loud. Jolie started crying. I picked Kitty up the best I could to keep her even and secure and she howled louder and Oh My God the panic was boiling over now.
I carried her into the kitchen and lay her on a towel on a kitchen chair. I sat in the floor beside of her. Searching for the number to our vet. Why isn't her number already in my phone?! I find it. I call. It's after hours and we wait the nearly THIRTY MINUTES for her to make it to the clinic.
For thirty minutes I talk gently to her, sitting in the floor beside of the chair. Jolie cried and I fought very hard to not cry. I'm so sorry you got hurt. What happened to you? It's going to be ok. Petting her softly and slowly and trying to keep her calm and still.
Tyler took my place in the floor to watch and console her while Jolie and I ran across the street to our neighbor who works as a vet tech with another veterinarian. She graciously came over to see about Kitty. She told us what she could, but agreed that she needed to get help.
Finally it was time to take her to the clinic. We live very near there so we waited at home until the last minute to go. I frantically looked for something secure for her to make the ride. An open basket that stores stuff on a shelf in the utility room was immediately dumped into the floor with a flick of the wrist and a towel, with the smell of us, the smell of home, was placed inside and then I, as gently as possible, laid Kitty inside.
We are there and Kitty is on the table and the vet is trying to see what she can tell, deciding that x-rays will be done in the morning (which was this morning). Medicine was given for shock and pain and we had to leave her there in their care and come home. We gave her kisses and sweet rubs on her head and cheeks, told her good night, and that it would be ok. The towel with the smell of home stayed with her.
Jolie cried and cried and cried. Eyes swollen and red. At one point she told Tyler, her bub, that she didn't want to be in the room, and so he led her back out into the waiting room while I listened the veterinarian, to ... the grim.
Jolie lost a tooth yesterday. She wrote in a letter to the Tooth Fairy that all she wanted was for Kitty to be better. That letter wrenched my heart. Ten years old, from the heart, never before wanting anything so badly.
I talked to the vet today. From the x-rays she could see that her pelvic bone was "knocked a little loose from her spine.". There is nerve damage. It's serious. She will stay there through the weekend so they can manage pain and look for any progress.
I want her to get up. I want those nerves to heal. They can and I want them to. I want her to climb the trees, race after birds, sharpen her claws on the roots coming through the ground. I want her to come home and sit in my lap and nuzzle under my chin. I want her to knock on the window to come in. I want her to curl up to Jolie in the bed. I want her to get in my way of the computer screen. I want her. I love her.
I want her to get up.
I don't like, at all, the decision that may lay before me. I hate it. I HATE IT.
We have to wait and see.
We have to wait and see.
I wrote this post yesterday. I'm going to bring Kitty home tomorrow. They have showed me what they have to do for her, and I can do that for her at home. Maybe she will do better being at home with us instead of a strange place. Nothing has changed yet.
Still have to wait and see.
Get up, Kitty.