We named her O.B. for Outdoor Beezy because she looks just like Beezy - she's all black. In fact, one day I came home and saw her in front of the rosebushes in my yard and freaked out, thinking that somehow Beezy got out of the house.
So, I asked Steve if I could name her Obi-Wan instead, and he said only if "O.B." 2 comes along - then it would be "O.B. 1" Well, if you put food out, the cats will come, and eventually we had a second cat - our O.B. 2. Steve named her Ari, and I called O.B. Obi-Wan.
But I digress.
Obi finally came around last night, and I grabbed the usual amount of food to put out - I told Steve I wanted some cuddle time with her. When I went to put the food out, I saw what I first thought was a straw stuck to her tail. On closer look, I saw the red straw was her tail - it had been stripped of its fur.
I ran back inside - Steve was about to crawl in bed. I yelled his name and said "Obi's tail is missing." He said it's OK, she's an outdoor cat, and she'll survive a missing tail. I said "No, it's not just missing - there's a lot of blood." I burst into tears, and I couldn't feed her. I asked him if he would feed her, then.
He grabbed some roast beef (a treat for Obi), and looked for his flashlight. I ran to the bedroom and grabbed it off of the dresser. He looked at it, and I said, "What do we do?" He looked, and he told me to call a vet office that our normal vet's office recommended for after hours. We looked for one that was close, but couldn't find it, so I just called the number that our vet's message gave for after hours emergencies.
They said it would be $75 to see her. I hesitated for a moment because she's not really our cat. I explained what happened, and they explained that most likely her tail would need to be amputated. Got the address, and then hung up and looked at Steve. He grabbed the computer while I called the Humane Society, who's message said to call the local law enforcement for animal control - that would be certain death for Obi. Steve thought for about 30 seconds, and told me to get the cat carrier.
We wrangled the cat into the carrier with a towel to give her some protection. I put her in the back seat and buckled her in (something both Steve and I firmly believe in.) I grabbed the GPS out of the center console to put the address in, but I wasn't successful the first time. Steve asked if I would like him to do it, so I handed it over. He got the address, and we headed on our way.
I could not stop crying. I had all sorts of thoughts going through my head. As we pulled out of the neighborhood, an ambulance went by with flashing lights. I thought, "It could be much worse - it could be a person close to me. Or even one of my own babies." A little bit further down the road, I said, "Well, I guess she's ours, now." Steve teased "If you wanted her that badly, you could have just said something - you didn't have to strip her tail." I said that if she had humans, I wanted to kick the crap out of them for letting her go outdoors. We both firmly believe in keeping cats indoors unless you live in a very rural area - there are a lot of sickos out here. He said, "We messed up when we gave her a name." I said "No, it was when we started feeding her. We're never feeding another stray cat."
More tears came as we drove on, and thoughts were racing through my head:
- At what point did we endanger her life? Was it when we started feeding her?
- What kind of a price limit could I put on this cat's life?
- How could someone do this to her? If it was a human (which I couldn't see anything not human related doing this to her) how could they just let her go?
- Are we losing this money that we are going to pay because I'm too compassionate? Am I doing the right thing?
- Does my husband know how much I love him - for being so compassionate, for being a "cat person" like me, for loving animals for all that they are?
- Can I continue to watch Ghost Whisperer after Jim dies? (I know - what does this have to do with the cat? Nothing - it's about my fear of losing my husband - one I don't want to face and can't seem to get over recently.)
Then a song came on the radio - I know it's silly, but it seemed to fit. It was the Killer's song, "Human." Are we Human, or are we Dancer/Denser - there's still debate on the lyrics. But anyways, it made me think: I am human. I was put on this earth for some purpose, even if I don't know what it is. And I have control over whether this animal is taken care of. Obi got silent, and Steve started meowing at her to get her to respond. He explained that the injury was called a "degloving", and that as long as she was meowing, she wasn't in shock.
When we got to the vet's office, Steve filled out the paperwork. A lady asked what was wrong with our kitty, and I explained that she's not even ours, but what had happened - and then I burst into tears again. She told the lady at the front desk that we could go first. Although her room was already set up, it meant so much that she would let us go first. It put a little faith back into humanity.
As we got into the room, I put my hand in to touch Obi's head. She started purring, which was a good sign, I kind of think - trying to comfort herself. I started singing that song, softly - and completely out of tune. I was a comfort to me, I guess - I am human, and I am doing the right thing.
The technician came in, and said that he'd like to get a weight and temperature - I said, "Good luck" - there was no way we were going to be able to stick a thermometer in her hind end when she was using it to to protect her tail. We got her weight, and waited a few more minutes (not long at all) for the Vet. He estimated the cost to be about $400. Steve said OK, and they took Obi in back.
Steve paid all $400 right there - he figured if that's the cost, we'll pay it. He said he would have been limited at $500 - for me, $300 was about where I was going to draw the line, but then that line came up way too soon.
As we got into the car, more tears came. I asked "Are we doing the right thing?" He responded "How can you even question that?" Good point. I realize that I question everything about myself lately. But that's another post.
Then he said, "It's one hell of a Karma deposit."
This morning, we got the call from the Vet's office that Obi was fine and ready to go home. And that she's a he. I think. We'll find out later.
In the meantime, Steve is getting some much needed sleep. I'll get dressed and clean out the downstairs room for Obi in a few minutes so she'll have someplace to recooperate. If it's a "he", we'll probably release him back to the outdoors and create a shelter for him. If he's been outdoors that long, then I'm sure he'll be a sprayer. If it's a she, I'll call my mom and see if she'll take her.
Steve asked Bailey if she told Obi the story of the kitty who ruined Christmas.
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