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Jun. 27th, 2007 04:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
urocyonMy usual morning routine, of late: lurch out of bed, try not to fall over cats with all my motor skills at a 24-hr. low, fumble with a glass coffee pot, gulp antihistamines, turn on aquarium lights and feed fishies.
This (late) morning: lurch out of bed, head toward the kitchen, open the back door to let Punkin in, get concerned at the way she is moving, go into a gibbering fit as soon as I catch a good look at her face, call the vet and a cab, gently pull the injured cat out from under the bed, try to make sure I've got things like keys and trousers on me before leaving the house.
The poor girl must have been hit by a car. The vet concurs. I took her in ASAP, and they rushed her right in after we got there, hauling the carrier over the reception desk--even Mirrors had to wait for a few minutes last time, when the wound drainage made me think he had GI bleeding. I didn't see the Punkin after that; they were busy treating her for shock. When I left the vet's, she was not in serious danger of dying from the shock, at least. They need to get her more stable before they can do anything else, so I'm waiting for a call to see what else they've found out.
At this point, we know she has lost her left eye and has a broken jaw--fairly obvious, with her poor little tongue lolling out. They are going to X-ray her as soon as they can, to make sure her lungs are OK. She did seem to be breathing fine, if shockily, and she didn't have much trouble yowling in the cab. After that, she needs surgery on her head; we don't know yet what else may need fixing.
I am actually less worried than I was before getting her to the vet's (though that's not difficult). Punkin was relatively stable when I left, and she has the same vet who put Mirrors back together again after his fall. I trust him to do a good job. Heck, it's a shame he can't treat humans on the side, or I'd be seeing him.
Now, I'm still feeling irrationally awful about the poor girl's huddling on the patio for who knows how long, waiting for one of us to open the door. Between the allergies and fibro flare, I've been sleeping late. OTOH, at least she probably wasn't there when![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vatine got up, or he'd have seen her. I also feel bad about not persisting in trying to get her to come in last night. She has been playing Silly Punkins a lot lately, and refusing to come in for supper, trotting just out of reach and peeving at the twolegs. Last night I quickly got tired of her bratty behavior and decided she could just stay out there if she insisted. I know, rationally, that there is very little I could have done that would have prevented her getting hurt in the first place, but am definitely caught in Parent Mode here.
This (late) morning: lurch out of bed, head toward the kitchen, open the back door to let Punkin in, get concerned at the way she is moving, go into a gibbering fit as soon as I catch a good look at her face, call the vet and a cab, gently pull the injured cat out from under the bed, try to make sure I've got things like keys and trousers on me before leaving the house.
The poor girl must have been hit by a car. The vet concurs. I took her in ASAP, and they rushed her right in after we got there, hauling the carrier over the reception desk--even Mirrors had to wait for a few minutes last time, when the wound drainage made me think he had GI bleeding. I didn't see the Punkin after that; they were busy treating her for shock. When I left the vet's, she was not in serious danger of dying from the shock, at least. They need to get her more stable before they can do anything else, so I'm waiting for a call to see what else they've found out.
At this point, we know she has lost her left eye and has a broken jaw--fairly obvious, with her poor little tongue lolling out. They are going to X-ray her as soon as they can, to make sure her lungs are OK. She did seem to be breathing fine, if shockily, and she didn't have much trouble yowling in the cab. After that, she needs surgery on her head; we don't know yet what else may need fixing.
I am actually less worried than I was before getting her to the vet's (though that's not difficult). Punkin was relatively stable when I left, and she has the same vet who put Mirrors back together again after his fall. I trust him to do a good job. Heck, it's a shame he can't treat humans on the side, or I'd be seeing him.
Now, I'm still feeling irrationally awful about the poor girl's huddling on the patio for who knows how long, waiting for one of us to open the door. Between the allergies and fibro flare, I've been sleeping late. OTOH, at least she probably wasn't there when
vatine got up, or he'd have seen her. I also feel bad about not persisting in trying to get her to come in last night. She has been playing Silly Punkins a lot lately, and refusing to come in for supper, trotting just out of reach and peeving at the twolegs. Last night I quickly got tired of her bratty behavior and decided she could just stay out there if she insisted. I know, rationally, that there is very little I could have done that would have prevented her getting hurt in the first place, but am definitely caught in Parent Mode here.