Tragedy in Paradise

Not sure how to write this one, so I'll just come out and say it. Our peaceful (albeit crazy-busy) world was a little bit shaken on Tuesday by a phone call saying our Turkish kitty was in the pet hospital. He had been hit by a car sometime Friday night or Saturday morning and taken in by the police. We were thankful he was being taken care of, but concerned about his condition.

We left the house immediately, skipping lunch, to go check out what was going on. He had been there all weekend without us knowing, and we felt we needed to get there quickly to get more information. What we found when we got there was slightly disconcerting. I was so thankful my husband had taken the rest of the day off to come with us. I needed him.

The vet tech shared with us that Oscar didn't have any use of his back legs. He's a paraplegic kitty. Ouch.

So, we waited for the vet to come in and visit with us. The signs were not great. Some slight feeling in the feet and tail, but not much. No movement beyond the mid back. Not able to hold his urine or feces. Ouch.

We had them do an X-ray. It didn't show any breaks, but there's no telling how much damage had been done to the nerves and how much would repair itself. Thankfully, he didn't need any surgeries. Thankfully, the bill was smaller than I had anticipated.

Yesterday was a check-up. They put in a catheter and gave him a lovely cone of shame to wear around his head. That lasted until we got home. He pulled the cone off and started cleaning himself. He left the catheter alone until after we had all gone to bed. By morning, he had pulled it out completely. So much for that!

Today, a week later, he's still not using his legs. He has better feeling in them and some slight movement from time to time. He hangs out in the laundry room─living it up in his dreamy, drugged up state. He's pretty content there, but I wish he were content to lay up in the living room where we are during the day. It takes every ounce of my being to not drag him around with me all day long and try to keep him company. I know he needs rest.

Every night, when we relax on the couch, I bring Oscar up to snuggle. He always purrs when I sit down next to him. He can only get himself half into my lap and I have to help him the rest of the way.

I'm trying to keep my head about me. It's hard to love something so deeply and contemplate the thought of having to make a decision you don't ever want to have to face. Makes me think about people whose loved ones are in comas for weeks, months, even years. How could I possibly make the decision to pull the plug?

Oscar's not on life-support, but he's certainly not the same cat he was a week ago, either. He's a hunter to the very core of his being. We were looking forward to having a good mouser at the farm. Now, I don't know if he'll ever be able to go outside again.

There's a fine line between loving an animal and keeping it alive for your own comfort. I need to be able to weigh the factors that come along with being a pet owner.

Will he ever have a good quality of life again? 

                                  If we keep him, will we? 

Will he recover enough to be the Oscar that he wants to be?

         How much money and time do you pour into an animal before it becomes too much?

These questions are swirling in my mind and every once in a while they get the better of me. I'm so thankful it's not one of my children.

That's all for today. I need some chocolate.