Snatched from the jaws of death…
So basically, if you threaten a cat with euthanasia? They get better. That’s what happened to Steve. One day at death’s door … Me checking in on him every two hours overnight as he was sequestered in our main floor bathroom. Him just lying there – near flat as a pancake and all glassy-eyed. And I’d basically prepared myself for taking him in the next morning and giving the order. The “put him out of his misery” order. Except that the next morning – there he was sitting up and when I called his name, he actually looked at me, all clear-eyed and on the cusp of being alert.
Apparently, each beast we own gets one funding of extraordinary measures. We give them that one brush with death. That near-cross on the River Styx. It’s happened with a bunch of our cats. Nym – $900 who then managed to live another couple of years. Bardolph – $1800 – for a month I had to feed that frickin’ cat through a tube in his neck because he refused to eat – and then he was all better and lived another 4 years. So they each get their one episode. They either bounce back, or they get put down. We prepare for the worst – know when to cut our losses and they sense it. They know that if they want to remain on this mortal coil they perk the fuck up and live.
And for that I’m thankful. Because Steve is the greatest cat. He is a cat of epic personality and snuggliness. It would have sucked to put him down. And now? After a 1/2 dozen visits and re-checks from our amazing vet team, he lies on the foot of our bed and purrs. Yesterday, he started playing again – chasing after toys, cavorting under my feet. He’s back.
ps – We are the human parents of a feline rock star. Every single person working at the vet clinic knows and loves Steve. “STEVE!” “Hey buddy!” “Hiya handsome!” “How’s Mr. Steve?” Nobody there knows my name, but by God they were pulling for my orange tabby. My cat. My goofy and personable cat had everyone in that clinic wrapped around his paw – that positive psychic energy may well be what saved him.
AW!