December 19, 2009
I rushed Boots, my 11 year old cat, to the emergency vet on Saturday because he was hiding under the bushes all night, in apparent pain, his eyes wild and crazy. His left ear was swollen out like a golf ball. It was soft and felt like a bat’s belly. I have never felt a bat’s belly, but I absolutely know a bat’s belly would have felt like Boot’s left ear if I could feel a bat’s belly.
The vet told me Boots had a hematoma and recommended surgery. She aspirated the swelling and found blood, a good thing, she said, because this meant that it was a hematoma. In my upset (I had to get to my hair appointment), I neglected to ask if this ruled out any underlying condition, like tumors or abscesses. And I ruled out the surgery, because it cost as much as six hair appointments And it was mostly cosmetic anyway, and well, those of you who know Boots, I mean, well, really….Cosmetic surgery on a guy who looks like that?
We arrived back from the vet, Boots all drooly and goopy eyed, and I let him out in the garage. When I came back from my hair appointment to give him his pill, he was nowhere to be found. Nor was he found yesterday (Sunday). When I finally caught a glimpse of him in the garage, he was bedraggled, unkempt, and he was howling. He had not eaten for two days, nor had he had water. He was clearly dying.
My denial and grief took me immediately to childish turnarounds:
- His incredible fatness would keep him alive for weeks
- It was ‘okay’ that I had overfed my cat. After all, bringing up three tempestuous girls (Chrissy, Julie, and Lisa) and their incipient eating disorders , coupled with my subsequent Jewish mother tendencies and subsequent frustration over not being able to make them eat, was being gratuitously acted out on my animals. The fact that Boots had gained over half his body weight in the last two years (from 6 pounds to 13.4 pounds) because of my tendency – nay – downright need – to overfeed the fellow, was absolutely justified because of my past. I was a victim of teenage refusal disorder (“TRD”)
- If a coyote, God forbid, got the feline, I wanted him to be sated so as not to come back for the other animals.
I was inconsolable. The stupid vet. She clearly missed the underlying condition. It was a tumor so hideous I would eventually see my cat look like the Elephant Man. Or should I say the Elephant Cat?
So, imagine my surprise last night, when in the middle of my hopelessness and grief, as I sat in my encampment in the middle of the garage, the LA Times at my feet, the phone handy, my journal in my hand, wanting to console the Elephant Cat in the last moments, the air was suddenly stirred and the lights actually dimmed by a huge shape – a flying squirrel ??? – and a clatter bang boom! – from the rafters and debris falling all about my feet as I looked up with a blood curdling scream! BOOTS?! How could this be? My cat had reincarnated as a flying squirrel?
No! It was the cat, Boots! His ear looked even worse. Folded in half, propped up by the swollen golf ball, all furry, the translucent bat belly. His eye was dripping, his nose running, his hair matted. His eyes were psychotic. I backed away as the apparition approached. What demon had possessed the once tranquil cat?
The thing approached the plate of food on the garage floor and slurped up some Fancy Feast on the good side of its mouth. It was eating. This had to be Boots! My belly relaxed somewhat!
This morning, I went out into the garage and boxes and old clothing and dust has fallen from the rafters. He was alive!!!! More food had been semi-scarfed and slurped!
Boots is alive, not well, his ear is hideous, his eye is goopy, but he managed to eat more food, and I even got a pill down his throat! Furthermore, I managed to read about cat hematomas, which are not as uncommon as all that, and he will end up with a cauliflower ear, but will probably make it. I could have done my reading on Saturday, but it was more essential to have my hair done and complain.
Anyway, the important thing is:
My Fat Lump, My Matted Cat, My Cat Who Soars His Heft Through the Air is alive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We all have our Christmas miracles, and I wanted you to know about mine.
Love, Boots Mama, and the One Who Longs for the Bat Belly
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