Friday, August 19, 2011

Freefall Cat Syndrome


Yesterday Marian and I were in my study (oh, I like having a study), when we heard a strange noise in the street outside. I said to Marian: 'That's the noise that kept waking me up last night, that sounds like a cat. I thought that Blini had fallen out of the window.' Marian said: 'It must be someone else's cat.' The noise came again. 'It really sounds like a cat, close by.' Stricken by sudden panic, we both rushed to look out of the window. Blini was in the street, having fallen off the windowsill. Havoc, running, panic. We got him back to the flat. The last time he fell out of the window was from a first floor flat and he chipped a tooth and hurt his nose and serve him right. This was a second floor flat, and it was immediately clear when we put him on the floor that he couldn't walk, his back legs were twisted and he was clearly in pain, hissing and yowling. The emergency clinic is the other side of town. Town was closed because of our historic visitor. The taxi had to take a detour. Our sang-froid took a beating.

The emergency clinic. They took him in, sedated him, X-rayed him and came to the conclusion that he had no broken bones, but a blockage that was paralysing his back legs (a slight pulse in one, no pulse in the other, the one that was hit by a car when he was a kitten). They checked to see if there was circulation by cutting off one of the claws on each back paw (checking for sensation by pulling out fingernails - seems a little brutal to me, but cats can't say why they say 'ouch'). The vet said that they would keep him in for twenty-four hours, but that there was only a 1% chance that he would show any improvement, and that we should be prepared to have him put down the next evening. We paid (roughly 50 cents for every day we've owned him) and left. We did not sleep well.

This morning we went back. Different vet, who suggested that there was improvement, and said, to our surprise and suspicion and joy and relief, that we could start to think about taking him home. The prognosis was bad, and we would probably have to put him down in the next few days, but he could leave.

This afternoon we went back to pick him up. Different vet, who told us that he was very aggressive (they had written ¡¡MUY AGGRESIVO!! [sic] on his chart, but if I were in pain and in a strange place and being manhandled round the clock by people I didn't know, I think even I might lash out a little), but that he had a pulse in both back legs.

This evening we went to our local vet, who ho-d and hummed and said he didn't want to question a colleague's diagnosis, but that the X-ray evidence (he took another X-ray) suggested that Blini was badly bruised and that his hips had been pushed up by about the length of a vertebra (X-ray evidence coming as soon as we get the CD back from the vet), but that he had sensation and reflexes in both legs and that essentially this was something that could be cured and that would, inshallah, cure itself with time. This is a diagnosis we are happier with.


So, Blini, stupid, soft, adventurous, brave and, yes, pretty aggressive at the moment is now under house arrest: he doesn't want to and shouldn't move, and can't really walk at all at the moment, and he will need to be taken to the sand tray personally and sleep on nappies for a week or so, but, but, but... we hope he'll be better soon.


Bapi is showing solidarity, which is touching.


He'll be stevemcqueening before long.

5 comments:

La Mancha said...

Cuánto lo siento, James y Marián, por el pobre y aventurero Blini! Solidaridad de nuestro Siro desde aquí, que tiene unos tornillos en uno de sus fémures...
abrazos para los dos!
Juan Carlos Ch.

Branislav said...

Gute Besserung, folks!

Btw, does Blini´s name anyhow connect to the Russian word блины ;)

James Womack said...

Juan Carlos, muchas gracias.

Braño, vielen Dank, and yes, Blini is named after блины, because when we first adopted him he smelt of pancakes. We later found out that this was because of a bacterium.

James.

Rafa Huelga said...

Saludos de parte de Rilke, que ahora comprende mejor por qué está la terraza cerrada y yo por qué tengo que estar pasando calor: por la p*** manía que tienen los gatos a creerse que pueden volar.

P.D.: La próxima vez me compro una tortuga.

James Womack said...

Gracias Rafa, Rilke. Hemos comprado un ventilador de un chino, así que podemos tener las ventanas cerradas, los gatos a salvo, y ayudar al régimen comunista todos a la vez. Un abrazo (y no hace falta comprar la tortuga: en Atocha hay todo un lote). J.