Wednesday, September 17, 2008

nine lives.

1. She was less than a year old, and the vet had put some unnecessary drops in her ears for an infection (it could have been treated orally); she had an allergic reaction and went completely deaf. It was nearly unbearable - we had to hand feed her for weeks, she couldn't walk because her equilibrium was so off, she was confused and distraught and it was AWFUL. But she slowly regained her sense of balance and her appetite (although she became the messiest eater imaginable), and she is nearly as graceful and perceptive as any cat.

One of the side effects, though, was developing an utter fearlessness with machinery and people. So trucks and vans parked in front of the house aren't loud and scary, they're intriguing. We shooed her out of several when we caught her snooping around. (And don't even suggest that we should have kept her in the house. She was an indoor/outdoor cat, and once she recovered her faculties, she wanted NOTHING but to be outside. I debated for a long time, but finally decided I'd rather her have a short happy life than a long miserable one.)

But.

2. About a year later, she disappeared, and I knew she must have gotten into a truck or van, and the driver didn't see her, and she was gone. It's so strange how a tiny cat's presence is felt so strongly. I don't understand it, and can't explain it, but you can tell when a person or animal is in the house. You can't hear them breathing, necessarily, or moving around - you can just tell. And there is a definite silence when they're gone.

Drew made huge bright magic marker posters and hung them everwhere, and put cards in the files at all the local shelters. And then, six weeks later, we got a call from a very nice lady, many miles away, on the other side of major highway construction, who said a cat matching our cat's description had wandered into her yard and seemed a bit hungry.

That was two years ago - she's now four, and stays very close to home. Then.

3. Even through the chaos and her daily pilgrimages to our real house, she still returns and spends every night at the rental. Last Sunday she wasn't there by the time we went to bed, and we'd been through a heck of a weekend (emergency rooms + very little sleep + major pain medication + cake deliveries? I don't even know what that equals. Nothing good.), so I just let it go and we left the door cracked for her.

When we woke up she was there, but completely listless. Drew thought maybe she was just tired from her big night out, but it seemed weirder than that. And she didn't really move all day. So we spent the week in and out of the vet's office, monitoring her 104-105" fever, pumping her full of fluids (and sometimes food), taking x-rays and blood samples, and finding absolutely nothing wrong with her.

From Monday to Friday she didn't eat or drink on her own, and hid in her closet constantly. The vet called it a fever of unknown origin, which is ridiculously unsatisfying.

Saturday we came downstairs and she was on the back of her favorite chair, albeit a little lethargic. And now it's Wednesday and she's 100%. So. Three down, six to go. Let's hope she takes a long, long time to work through them.