January 23rd, 2009


(no subject)

Oh God, I found the cat and she was still alive. Not good but alive. So I woke Finn up and we stood there staring at her in the bushes not knowing what to do and I suddenly felt sick of being the one who always has to know what to do. But that doesn't stop, so I got Finn to hold her basket and we put her in it and brought her in. She clambered out, lay under the table, wet the floor and started gasping. So I made a decision and the boys (Christy left at five this morning for Parachute) said goodbye to her and I took her to the vet. It was a different vet, a really nice one, and she was quite positive about our tough little cat. She promised to keep charges to a minimum, put the cat on a drip and a heating pad and give her some antibiotics (which I think she would have needed all along). She said the cat was very pale so maybe she has some internal bleeding from the teeth removal? I made her promise that the other vet wouldn't touch Shyler

*shrug* I feel better that the cat is being looked after with dignity. Now - I'm so tired. And it's only half past nine in the morning. OMG!