The one Monday we had a dog, things didn’t go so well.
Mae was supposed to go left, instead she went right. My bedroom door was supposed to be closed, instead it was open.
An epic chase ensued.
Wink climbed walls, bounced off windows, ran through tiny spaces and bounced so high off Addie’s bed he nearly touched the ceiling.
Had I not been terrified for the well being of Wink, it would have been quite hysterical to watch. Wink puffed out like an electrified cartoon as Mae’s lanky legs tried to keep in line behind him.
Mae got him by his belly at one point, tossing him in the air. Wink escaped only to get his foot caught in one of Vivi’s toys. He dragged the toy with him, finally shaking it loose as I managed to get a gate between him and the dog.
When Cody found out what happened he asked why I didn’t just grab Mae.
Somewhere over the past 12 years of marriage Cody somehow got the idea that I am capable of stopping out of control freight trains with my bare hands.
Mae went back to the shelter after our vet told me a tragic story about a dog she rescued that ate her beloved cat on day one.
For those of you with cats who are considering a rescue dog, a lot of people will tell you “Oh! It just takes a couple of weeks! Everyone will be thick as thieves before you know it!” I’m here to rain on your parade and say sometimes a dog will do in a cat in before they are ever able to even acknowledge the existence of one another. I’m all about rescuing animals that need homes, but I’m also all about keeping the rescue pets I already have alive.
Wink has been on edge ever since Mae left, he hides in the closet, only comes out at night and flinches at the slightest noise. Earlier this week as I was changing the litter I noticed blood.
Blood is never good.
Veterinarian Google convinced me I needed to take Wink in RIGHT AWAY. Cheapskate Cody insisted Wink would live through the night. (Which he did. BARELY.)
First thing in the morning I took a very sad Wink to the vet where he was to undergo a urine sample, an x-ray to rule out stones and while I was there I brought up a clump of poop in his paw that I wasn’t brave enough to get out given how little Wink likes his toes touched.
The vet dug at it a bit then gasped as Wink’s ENTIRE TOE FELL OFF.
“That’s! That’s bone. He has managed to rip off his entire toe. I mean, there’s no toenail, it’s GONE. It’s simply scabbed over. There isn’t even enough skin for me to close this, he’s going to have to have surgery!” (In case you’re curious about what a ripped off cat toe looks like, here it is. While it’s not bloody, you can certainly tell something is very, very wrong.)
Suddenly the epic chase came back to the forefront of my mind, that toy he was caught up on.
I texted Cody with the results and $417 veterinary bill.
“Did the dog do this to him?”
Apparently the crystals Wink has in his bladder (and I guess there are a BUNCH) are brought on by stressful situations. In this case, that situation was named Mae.
When I came home I went straight to the toy Wink dragged behind him and sure enough, in one of the crevices was the other part of his toe.
Yesterday we found the toenail he ripped off.
Poor cat. He’s got one eyeball, he’s missing half an ear and now he’s down a back toe. If he was born with nine lives he’s easily down to his last two or three.
Cody claimed it gives him “street cred” and that “Ladies love a guy with scars!”
I think it’s his way of dissuading his guilt over the dog nearly doing in his lovercat.
Wink still sticks to the closet 80% of the time, it’s the only place the dog never ventured so I assume he feels safest in there.
Or perhaps he’s trying to make an equal rights statement about coming out of the closet.
Regardless, I love that cat so much it’s stupid.
I’m really glad he’s okay.
What’s the weirdest injury your pet has ever had?