Dan and I recently adopted a little white cat. Because he's the only white cat in the pride of cats already living with us, we call him Cracker or Cracky for short. He came from the mean streets of Tucson and we packed him up in the backseat of my truck and brought him down to the pastoral paradise of Sierra Vista. Wait a minute, did I say pastoral paradise? I should have said COMBAT ZONE because last week Cracky came hobbling through the cat door on our back patio with what appeared to be some kind of wound on his back right leg. It was about 8 pm and he was crying really loud. I checked the internet and found a vet open until 9:30 pm and we wrapped him in a blanket and drove him over. The doctor immediately guessed that the little guy's leg was broken. What? There was a small wound on the top of his leg which Dan thought could be from a pellet gun or something. I was shocked.
Cracky was taken away to get an x-ray and we could hear his crying out in the waiting room...it was pretty horrible because the little guy was obviously in a lot of pain. The really sad part was that he would still purr if the vet tech or anyone (for that matter) would pet his head. He is one of those really sweet little animals that may be too innocent for his own good.
The vet invited Dan and me to go in the back and see Cracky's x-ray which confirmed that his little leg was indeed broken at the femur (or top part of the leg). We could also see a big piece and several little pieces of what had broken his leg. Dan asked if that was a pellet from a pellet gun and the vet said "No...that's too big to be pellet, it looks like a .22 caliber bullet to me." My cat got shot with a .22? Are you joking? They told us that they'd call the vet surgeon (who did surgeries that week) to get an estimate for the surgery but they thought he'd probably require a pin to put his little leg back together. Unbelievable. They gave us antibiotics and told us they'd call the next day about the surgery.
We got the estimate...and it wasn't cheap at all. Dan (my sweet hero) didn't hesitate to pay for it and the little guy went under the knife last Wednesday. We were both really worried and called the vet's office all day but finally heard that he was doing really well. They kept him overnight and we picked him up the next afternoon. Dan wanted to see the bullet they extracted but the vet decided to keep it in because he said it would have caused more damage if he had gone in there to take it out. He said that, based on the position of the bullet, it wouldn't harm Cracky to leave it in there. I took a picture of the huge scar this little guy has now.
So...Cracky is (of course) making us crazy because he insists on trying to jump onto things with his three working legs. We also have to give him an antibiotic pill every morning and every evening and Dan and I are completely traumatized by the experience. Cracky acts like we're putting a cigarette out in his eye and Dan is so worried about hurting his leg that he won't hold him tightly. We try to wrap him up in what I call "the Kitty Burrito" which basically bundles the little guy completely in a towel with only his head free. Then one of us (Dan) holds the bundle while I force Cracky's mouth open and try to jam a pill down his throat while he makes gagging sounds and tries to get it out with his tongue. A very pleasant experience. Dan has a little trouble with the "burrito" concept. He likes to put him in a "taco" with his little arms and legs open in the front....that doesn't work. I've also seen Dan misguidedly believe that the "quesadilla" will work...which is just lightly draping the town over Cracky's shoulders. I've had to explain that I need a full blown burrito and none of those other lose, tortilla-wrapped mexican dishes.
I should also explain a little about why we adopted our little Cracky. My mother told us about him because a friend found him. He had a collar and was plump and clean and would come up to their house and try to eat the food they were giving to some homeless cats it the neighborhood. They kept shooing him away because they thought he had a home. He would keep coming back and sort of linger in the periphery watching the other cats and they noticed that he was getting thinner and dirtier. Finally they called the number on his collar and it was disconnected. In other words, he was abandoned. He is totally a house cat not fit for the outdoors and was dying to be allowed back into someone's home. It pretty much broke our hearts. He is also one of those little fellows who loves to snuggle and purrs at the slightest touch. He's a real sweetheart. We felt so horrible that we brought him down to live with us and he gets shot. He's recovering really well though and he's even starting to use his broken leg a little. The vet is going to remove the pin in about 6 weeks, so we'll see. I know...we're saps.
We still don't know what idiot shot our little boy. We live in a subdivision where there are a lot of homes and not much open space so it is absolutely ludicrous that anyone is shooting a gun in our neighborhood (with all the kids that run around)...even here in gun-crazy Arizona.
Cracky was taken away to get an x-ray and we could hear his crying out in the waiting room...it was pretty horrible because the little guy was obviously in a lot of pain. The really sad part was that he would still purr if the vet tech or anyone (for that matter) would pet his head. He is one of those really sweet little animals that may be too innocent for his own good.
The vet invited Dan and me to go in the back and see Cracky's x-ray which confirmed that his little leg was indeed broken at the femur (or top part of the leg). We could also see a big piece and several little pieces of what had broken his leg. Dan asked if that was a pellet from a pellet gun and the vet said "No...that's too big to be pellet, it looks like a .22 caliber bullet to me." My cat got shot with a .22? Are you joking? They told us that they'd call the vet surgeon (who did surgeries that week) to get an estimate for the surgery but they thought he'd probably require a pin to put his little leg back together. Unbelievable. They gave us antibiotics and told us they'd call the next day about the surgery.
We got the estimate...and it wasn't cheap at all. Dan (my sweet hero) didn't hesitate to pay for it and the little guy went under the knife last Wednesday. We were both really worried and called the vet's office all day but finally heard that he was doing really well. They kept him overnight and we picked him up the next afternoon. Dan wanted to see the bullet they extracted but the vet decided to keep it in because he said it would have caused more damage if he had gone in there to take it out. He said that, based on the position of the bullet, it wouldn't harm Cracky to leave it in there. I took a picture of the huge scar this little guy has now.
So...Cracky is (of course) making us crazy because he insists on trying to jump onto things with his three working legs. We also have to give him an antibiotic pill every morning and every evening and Dan and I are completely traumatized by the experience. Cracky acts like we're putting a cigarette out in his eye and Dan is so worried about hurting his leg that he won't hold him tightly. We try to wrap him up in what I call "the Kitty Burrito" which basically bundles the little guy completely in a towel with only his head free. Then one of us (Dan) holds the bundle while I force Cracky's mouth open and try to jam a pill down his throat while he makes gagging sounds and tries to get it out with his tongue. A very pleasant experience. Dan has a little trouble with the "burrito" concept. He likes to put him in a "taco" with his little arms and legs open in the front....that doesn't work. I've also seen Dan misguidedly believe that the "quesadilla" will work...which is just lightly draping the town over Cracky's shoulders. I've had to explain that I need a full blown burrito and none of those other lose, tortilla-wrapped mexican dishes.
I should also explain a little about why we adopted our little Cracky. My mother told us about him because a friend found him. He had a collar and was plump and clean and would come up to their house and try to eat the food they were giving to some homeless cats it the neighborhood. They kept shooing him away because they thought he had a home. He would keep coming back and sort of linger in the periphery watching the other cats and they noticed that he was getting thinner and dirtier. Finally they called the number on his collar and it was disconnected. In other words, he was abandoned. He is totally a house cat not fit for the outdoors and was dying to be allowed back into someone's home. It pretty much broke our hearts. He is also one of those little fellows who loves to snuggle and purrs at the slightest touch. He's a real sweetheart. We felt so horrible that we brought him down to live with us and he gets shot. He's recovering really well though and he's even starting to use his broken leg a little. The vet is going to remove the pin in about 6 weeks, so we'll see. I know...we're saps.
We still don't know what idiot shot our little boy. We live in a subdivision where there are a lot of homes and not much open space so it is absolutely ludicrous that anyone is shooting a gun in our neighborhood (with all the kids that run around)...even here in gun-crazy Arizona.
Excellent work you two.
Posted by: Todd Lang | May 12, 2010 at 11:03 AM
Mr Lang....I hear that you think Ive become more conservative since moving down to the border of Mexico? You have got to be kidding me....Im probably more of a bleeding heart (getting closer to your status) since moving down here and becoming a public defender.
Posted by: Destructo | May 12, 2010 at 01:37 PM
THANKS FOR HELPING A DEFENCELESS ANIMAL
Posted by: DIANE FUSCO | May 14, 2010 at 11:17 AM