For now, though, my pets are my kids and I worry about them probably more than I should. Especially Reagan.
Meet Reagan (if you haven't already) - our little monster. He is about 5 1/2 years old. I acquired Reagan via adoption thanks to Alexis in college. Previously I had not been a cat person - take them or leave them really. I didn't HATE them, I just wouldn't have ever seen myself buying a cat or choosing to have one as a pet.
Until one rainy night at 1am when I was working on a floor-set change at the Gap and the phone rang. We weren't supposed to get personal calls during work hours, but on floor-set changes it wasn't really a policy. It was Alexis; "I found 4 kittens" "you WHAT?" "They are in my bathroom. It was raining too hard and their mommy wasn't around..." "what are we going to do with them?" "I don't know - they're so cute..."
I don't remember exactly what transpired in the rest of the conversation, but I do remember the following weeks fairly well. We kept 4 tiny kittens first in Alexis's bathroom, then in our spare bathroom, then in my bathroom. There were 3 boys and one girl; 3 black and one orange - and all together they might have weighed 2 pounds. They were TINY. The orange one was not the cutest, and he was certainly the protector of the litter. When we would try to get near them the orange cat would hiss with all his might (which was hardly audible, yet frightening to us nonetheless) Over the course of 2-3 weeks the cats grew to love us and became very playful little kittens. We weren't sure what we were going to do with them yet, but we knew we couldn't keep 4 kittens! Alexis called a pet store in college station to see how they handle adoptions, and the store said they had room for one kitten. The female was the least playful, and had been named after Alexis's boyfriend's mean sister, so we decided she was the first to go. That left us with Alfredo's favorite, "rascal", Emily's favorite, "pumpkin", and my favorite: a black fur-ball that we called Meatball.
Some events transpired that caused me to decide to move back to Houston for the second half of the summer, and my mom told me that I needed to get rid of at least 2 of the cats. I could not bring 4 kittens into her house, and on a college budget I couldn't really afford any. But I had grown attached to these little things! They all slept with me at night, Reagan liked to drag fluffy items such as make up brushes from Alexis's room to mine, they played with my hand under the blankets - they were each gaining so much personality. My mom said that before I moved back to Houston we'd take 2 of the kittens to CAP (citizens for animal protection) and we'd drop them there in hopes that they would find homes. Throughout this time I knew Meatball would be the one I'd keep - but then something changed. It was like "pumpkin" knew that he wasn't the chosen one, and he was doing everything in his power to win me over. He wouldn't leave my side! Meatball grew more distant as pumpkin grew more affectionate, so when the day finally came to take the 2 to CAP, pumpkin had successfully changed my heart.
I cried the whole way to CAP, cried as we waited in line, and then I went out to my explorer and cried with pumpkin while my mom handed meatball and rascal over to the volunteers at CAP. Pumpkin wasn't one for car rides and he had been persistently trying to escape from his box the entire ride from College Station to Houston, but when I sat in the explorer crying he calmed down and just sat there silently. He was calmer on the ride back to my mom's house, as if he knew that I had had enough for the day and he was being compassionate.
When we got home my mom and I discussed his name. We didn't really like the name pumpkin, but I hadn't cared to give him another name because I thought I was keeping Meatball. As we were having this conversation, we were watching Ronald Reagan's funeral on TV. The name just worked. I liked Reagan as a president, and I loved learning about his economic policy (that Bill Clinton takes credit for...oops, another tangent) and Reagan was a better name than pumpkin! So - it was settled. My new best friend and dependent was an orange cat named Reagan.
Reagan lived with me in Houston, moved with me into my duplex in college station, travelled with me back and forth, and eventually made the long journey to Denver (which he hated - and frequently told me so) He slept with me at night, annoying me well before my alarm was to go off, and ran around the house all day chasing strings and bugs and anything that happened to be on the floor. I don't think my roommates were thrilled that I had chosen to bring a cat into our house, but I think his weirdness grew on them. He's not a normal cat - we've known he's had issues since he was a few months old. He's just WEIRD!
But he's my baby. And a complete "mama's boy".
2 years ago Reagan started chewing on his tail until it was bleeding. We took him to the vet, got penicillin, and it went away. It didn't occur again so we never really thought of what may have caused the episode. Until over a year later when I was living in Houston and was out of town for 5 days. He attacked his tail so much there was blood splattered everywhere. The episodes became very frequent, and they were accompanied by what appeared to be paranoia. He would tuck himself into as tight of spaces as he could find (which isn't easy, for a 22 lb cat!) and he would wail at the top of his lungs. It broke my heart because I didn't know why he was doing this or how to stop it. I eventually determined that he only did it when I was out of town for work, which was often last summer, so I moved him to my mom's house so he wouldn't ever be alone and scared. He seemed happier there, and why wouldn't he be? His "papa" gives him treats and cheese and cooked chicken - Papa's house is like Heaven!
Since we've moved to Denver the tail chewing has been less frequent, but when it does happen it seems worse than ever. In February we went to the vet and were told (third diagnosis by the third vet, mind you) that it is either a neurological symptom or it is painful nerve damage from his tail that was broken at birth. The vet suggested we try putting him on Prozac to see if that would solve the problem. It was HORRIBLE. Reagan wouldn't come out from under the guest bed, wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink...it was terrible. After 3 days we called the vet and said no thanks on the prozac. IN that time, though, his tail healed and then he never messed with it again.
But this morning - he let loose in the bathroom and went wild. I was trying to take a bath and he joined me in the bathroom, which isn't uncommon. But his frantic running around, running under the vanity, around the toilet, INTO THE TUB even - that's not normal. There was blood everywhere. I had to end my bath because Reagan was trying to climb up the door to get out, and Austin came in to help me clean his tail.
We've decided, at this point, to go ahead and try the partial amputation. They will cut off about 4 inches of his tail. My concern is that he will just continue to chew on the new "end" of his tail, or find some other body part to mutilate. But, he may not - this may solve the problem. He is obviously in pain, obviously uncomfortable, and this is the only thing that we know to do to try to help. It breaks my heart to think of cutting his tail, but it is less painful for me than seeing the terrified look in his eyes when he has just reopened the wound. He looks so miserable, so lost, and so scared. So - to sum up an unbelievably long blog (that has taken me 6 hours to complete) - this has been my difficult "mom" decision - because there's no guarantee this is the answer. How awful will I feel if we amputate part of his limb and that doesn't solve his problem? And if that is the case, what then will we do? I'll feel so helpless.
So, let's just hope this is the cure. I just want my poor baby Reagan to be happy!!!
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