Life can be hard for a cat. Sure we’re good at marching around like we own the place, but just because we can survive on our own doesn’t mean that we should.
I spent almost a year living out on my own. The leaves were changing when the students came back from their vacations and settled into school. This was a good time because they would feed me. They called me Hobbes. I made my home under a partially collapsed shed. It kept the rain off, but during the winter it was very cold and lonely.
One night while I was roaming around town I was hurt. I’d been hurt before, but this was worse than anything I’d ever felt. I remember the lights and the impact, but that’s all. I figured that it would just heal like all the injuries before.
My leg didn’t get better like I thought it would. It smelled funny and I couldn’t put any weight on it. Trying to get to food and water was tough. Even walking around hurt and I started to run on three legs.
One day there was a bunch of food left out for me like usual, but when I went to eat it there was a huge BANG and I was trapped in a cage! I tried to escape, but there was no way out.
They took me to this place called a vet clinic where a nice lady named Gina and some other people checked me over. They said it was a good thing those students had been feeding me otherwise I would have been even skinnier. I was neutered so someone had loved me at some point. They cleaned me all up, gave me some medicine and took some weird pictures with a big machine of my hurt leg.
Everyone was very happy when my FIV/Felv test came back negative (whatever that means). I was happier when they put even more food in front of me. I didn’t even have to guard it from anyone!
Over the next little while they fed me, gave me attention, and tried to stop my back leg from hurting. They put a big heavy cast on it which I didn’t like too much…hard to be fast with that clunking behind you.
I got to go home with Gina and meet her cats and the dog. I don’t mind the other cats, but that big drooling beast needs a few lessons from me to figure out who is in charge.
After all that time at Gina’s I finally had my cast off. I felt great and I was ready to go back to my life living on my own. I ran out the door a few days after it was taken off. It was a lot harder than I remembered to be out there and I used my hurt leg a lot. After 12 days I hadn’t been able to find much food and my leg ached so much.
I found the students who had originally been feeding me and they got me back to the vet clinic.
Gina took me home to recover and fatten me back up again. Once I was feeling better, they brought me for surgery.
I woke up confused, but the first thing I noticed was that my back leg didn’t hurt anymore. It was gone! I purred and purred to let them know how much better I felt, but it was a lot to get used to.
Instead of a fallen down shed, I now had Gina’s son’s room. Michael was very kind and patient with me while I gained confidence and learned to work on three legs. Once winter was over he started taking me on the porch so I could learn how to enjoy outdoors again.
Despite a strong determination, Gina and her sons adopted me into their home. Through all the fostering and care they tried to not get attached before I went to a new home, but here I am now a 3.5 year old orange tabby named Minou (male cat in French). My new sister’s name is Minette (female cat in French) so we’re both cats named cat. She was supposed to be a foster too, but once you name them… you know how it goes. Only problem is the dog, but I keep her in line.
I might have lost a leg, but I gained a whole family!