It Takes Two to Heal

It takes two to heal

Thanks, Kate, for getting my butt in gear and back on the blog. Duncan is…OK. But this is still really hard.

I brought him home Tuesday night. He was so glad to see me. I was less shocked than I thought at the sight of his minus-one-leg. He’s bandaged up in a compression bandage, so it just looks like his arm is hidden. But he is so much lighter. That felt weird. And not just hasn’t eaten in two days lighter. This is something-is-missing lighter. The car ride was long. I had to go through Hollywood because the rains had made traffic a nightmare. It took about an hour and 15 minutes to get home. Duncan was so glad to be home. I carried him in and he struggled to get out of my arms. I set him down and he tried to walk. He looked like a fish in a boat, flopping around and so desperately trying to get somewhere. Anywhere. He finally gave up and just lay there, panting. It broke my heart. He glared at me. Something is terribly wrong. I picked him up and carried him to his food. He couldn’t stand, but he ate almost an entire can of food. I was relieved his appetite was good. At least we wouldn’t have to deal with upset stomachs and kidney issues. He lay on the floor to eat. Then he dragged himself over to the water. Paxton was very confused. He puffed himself up, big tail, the works. He didn’t recognize this floundering fur ball. And it smelled like fear and hospitals. Paxton lost his appetite and left. Duncan looked so confused. Later, I was in the office and I heard a thud-scoot, thud scoot. Duncan was determined to get himself from the food to the office. He couldn’t walk; it was more of a scoot. But he made his way to the litter box, stepped in and did his thing. But then he was so exhausted, he just lay there. At that moment, Russ came in from being on the road for a week. It reminded me of the moment Russ met Duncan. We had been dating for 2 months. I had picked up Duncan at a grocery store where a little boy was selling kittens for $5. I called Russ and told him to come over, I had a surprise. He walked in and Duncan, who had been hiding under a table, slid out. All 10 ounces of him. He was a skinny little runt kitten only six weeks old. And he stole our hearts.

We carried Duncan around some. And Russ kept trying to get him to walk by himself. He learned how to rollover. But walking is still difficult. Yesterday, I was still so sad and depressed. I stayed home most of the day and napped with him. He continued to eat and use the box. We all watched part of a movie all snuggled together. Today, the patch is starting to wear off. Duncan is in pain. This is killing me. I willfully decided to put my cat through this! Right now he’s under the bed hiding. He still eats like a champ. But he often crawls a bit, stops and then cries. It’s that plaintive loud cry that he uses when he’s in the car. I pick him up and cradle him. He purrs and cuddles and falls asleep.

I talked to the hospital and they offered to put on another patch. I was hoping to get some pills so he’s not drugged for another 3 days. They said as long as he’s eating, he’s OK. I’m going to let him sleep a few more hours. If he’s still miserable, I’m calling our regular vet tonight. I can’t let him be in pain. And I still think the owner should get a patch as well. Or at least some valium.

This feels like it will never end. I want my cat back.