Kitty Trauma

Kitty trauma. It had to happen and when it happens, oh wow, it happens. Again, attempting to leave the soap box under the stairs and simply share my stories rather than rant and rave about the heart wrenching maltreatment of animals here. Oops, almost managed to keep it under control. Almost.

Most of the teacher houses here have a cat or two who has been rescued by a soft hearted teacher and inherited by the cleaning girls after that teacher leaves. These cats have very good lives and are very well cared for. Thankfully. The cat at my first house, tiny black & white Chico, playfully wriggled his way into my heart with his howling hellos and his super social I-want-to-love-everybody personality. Just adore him. He, however, is a “he” and as he grew, his balls grew, and I knew that soon there would be more unwanted kittens around. I had promised the cleaning girls, who take very good care of him, that once I got settled into my new house, I would be back to have him taken in for a necessary neutering, sadly, far too uncommon here. Checked with other teachers, borrowed a cat cage, and brought him in for his consultation appointment.

The vet hospital is part of a university so several keen students came to check out a shivering, shaking, clingy Chico, and me, of course. Sweet students and it was encouraging to see that in a country where there seems to be little concern for animals, the veterinary program appears to be thriving. Consultation was a Thursday morning, “castration” was scheduled for Monday morning. Sorry Chico, but it has got to be done.

Thursday night, Hannah gets me out of my bed at around 1am. She and some friends had just gotten in. She had found OUR cat, a beautiful orange and white, slightly aloof but lovely Chica (yes, an “a” instead of an “o”) stuck on the security gate – she had fallen on one of the wrought iron stakes and had impaled herself though the leg. Hannah had gotten her off the stake but she had a good sized hole through her leg, had ripped off a bunch of skin, and was in an obvious state of panic. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Chico, cuddles up and wants to be with people when he is scared, Chica, wants to be alone. So I crawled under the bed where she was hiding and tried to see what the hell she had done to herself. She was in a lot of pain and tending to her injury as best she could; luckily not bleeding . There are no 24 hour vet hospitals and we knew the university hospital would be open in the morning. We tried to make her as comfortable as we could and hoped she would be okay through the night.

The next morning I packed a scared and injured Chica into a cardboard box, as the carrier was at Chico’s house, and got her to the hospital. Strange looks from the familiar staff as I unloaded a very frightened and weak but different cat. Oh, as they exchanged worried looks, oh poor kitty.

Side note. We’ve always had cats growing up. Our last cat, my sweet Petrie, we had for 19 years. 19! We got her my senior year in high school in Germany and she was part of our family until January 2010. I still get teary thinking about her. Anyway! Any time I had to take her to the vet, just for routine vaccinations or minor check-ups, I was a basket case. In tears, melt down, no reason at all. Just cried. My poor baby scared and in pain… I cried. A source of entertainment for the vet, no doubt. Remember my stories of trying to save little Chicken, the newborn kitten we found in Thailand? Yeah, hysterical tears. Now here in Indonesia, why should it be any different? Seriously.

I managed to NOT cry when I brought Chico in for his consultation, got a little choked up but was able to hold it together, but to see Chica in so much pain, yeah, it was over. Trying desperately to hold it together, the students spoke with a vet, who I saw for all of 3 seconds, and they whisked her away to do “surgery”, which meant stitch up her leg. I heard her screaming from down the hall and I had to leave.

The vet hospital is rough, basic, dirty, and there were goats grazing out in the construction / garbage dump area out back but still, better conditions than the people hospitals in Mozambique that I had a chance to see. I kept telling myself that it would be okay, it would be okay, she would be fine. She just needed some stitches, she would be fine.

When she was out of “surgery”, a limp and anesthetized cat was lying on the table. Okay, okay, I’ve seen this before. She’ll be groggy but soon, she’ll be fine. I can take her home and she’ll be fine.

Oh how it all went terribly wrong. As she woke, she was in complete distress. She kept flopping over but was frantic to move. The cleaning girls stayed with her all day as I had to go to school and when I came back at night, my heart leapt from concern to panic. She was still trying desperately to move, but couldn’t, and oh holy shit, she was blind. The poor cleaning girls didn’t know what I was talking about so I brought Hannah down and she agreed with me. What have they done to her?!?! I had the phone number to the vet who was scheduled to do Chico’s neutering on Monday, it was around 9pm and I had to do something. He spoke wonderful English and told me to bring her over to his house, where he has an office as well, right away.

Poor Chica, in so much distress and blind, me useless and emotional. Not a good combo. The vet was lovely but seemed to keep missing my point that I wasn’t concerned about her LEG, but that she was BLIND! He redressed her leg and looked in her eyes, saying that they looked fine. Her pupils were completely dilated, as they had been since the stitching up, but he said they seemed fine. He didn’t know what to tell me as he would have to wait until Monday to talk to the vet who treated her. He gave her another sedative (noooooo!!!) but said it would help her relax as she had been so distressed all day. He said to bring her back to him should anything else change but for now, just give her time. I’m not good at just sitting and waiting, especially when there are no answers! What am I waiting for? How much worse can it get? If she is going to get better, WHEN will it happen? Arrrrrgh!!!

A long, long night of zero sleep as she fought to come out of the second sedative and threw and flopped herself blindly around my bed and room. The sun came up, no improvement. We kept her in one room that was sparely furnished and over a few hours, she seemed to be able to figure her way around it without bumping into things but still couldn’t see. Hannah and I talked about a blind cat living where we live… impossible. I’m an emotional, over-tired wreck. A google search shared several stories of sudden and irreversible blindness due to an overdose of anesthesia… I’ve killed this cat. Tears, tears, tears.

The day passed, then another and slowly, slowly she recovered. Thank every star in the sky, she has regained her sight and her spirit. She is actually seeking out the company of people as I think she has had quite a fright. She has been spending her nights sleeping on my bed and I am A-okay with this. We still have to get those stitches removed but you can be sure, I’ll take them out with my teeth before letting her be sedated again. Oh Chica, thank you for not dying on me!

The story’s not over yet. You didn’t think it was over yet, did you? It couldn’t possibly be over yet!

Remember, I had an appointment to get Chico neutered? Oh yeah, back to the hospital we go. I am in a VERY fragile state come Monday morning. The vet whose house I had taken Chica to on Friday night assured me he would be the one to do Chico’s neutering. He had studied in France, his English was excellent and he was extremely compassionate. He had offered several apologies at his house and at the hospital again on Monday in reference to what happened to Chica. I stood there as he attempted to get information out of the students as to what actually happened to her but he got nothing. He shook his head after talking with them, offered me another apology, and said that while it was his colleague who stitched her up, no one seemed to be able to give him a clear story on dosages, what happened, or why. Scary.

Okay, so Chico. A shaking, clingy boy and yep, of course I’m in tears. In an attempt to ease my anxiety, the vet allowed me to bring Chico into the operating room and I was there as they tied him with ropes, spread eagle on his little back and gave him an injection. The vet ordered and administered everything just to be on the safe side. I watched as Chico’s pupils grew enormous and black then glass over – oh no! Oh no! Oh no! He assured me all was fine. I looked away and paced.

Why am I in this room? I can’t handle this! This shouldn’t be about me but I obviously can’t handle this! Just before he sliced into poor little Chico’s balls, the vet looked up at me, smiled, and said “Be calm.” Too late, buddy, too late.

This poor cat wriggled despite being unable to make a sound and was obviously able to feel what was happening. 30 minutes dragged on for hours. I was thoroughly nauseous at the thought of this sweet cat being needlessly tortured and I was responsible for it. While they all assured me that this was the safest way to treat him, all I could think of was grabbing him and running. I’m sorry, I kept whispering to Chico, I’m so, so sorry.

By the time I got Chico back to his house, he was already starting to wiggle about and seemed to be in a much better state than Chica was. When I came back to check on him that night after school, all was right in his world other than a sore bottom. Follow up visits and reports have all been incredibly positive. He is a very strong little cat and has recovered exceptionally well despite being awake when his balls were sliced off. Oh Chico cat, I’m so, so sorry.

And as I write this, Chica is laid out flat on her back on my bed, four paws in the air, sound asleep. She can run, jump, and see perfectly well. It has been a long week but a shaved and stitched leg are all that remain from her trauma a week ago. Amazing, amazing, amazing. Please, please, please let that be the end of our kitty traumas, my heart can’t take much more.

As for anyone who is interested in becoming a vet, please feel free to set up shop in Indonesia. Wow, are you ever needed here.