My life revolves around my family, home, and our businesses. I think of myself as an average person, even though in reality, I'm probably not. But the things that set me apart are simply a point of perspective about what to focus on. The things that I share in common with most people in any culture, are the basics. Love for Family, love for home, and working to support that.
Yesterday, I got to experience being at the veterinary clinic, something I would give almost anything to avoid. But while there, I had the opportunity to observe the family dynamic that we as human beings create with our pets. And here, I found another common connection that I share with most people.
Everyone in that building had a deep relationship with an animal as a family member. I saw expressions of tenderness, empathy, joy, tears, guilt, relief on human faces. And we connected with our eyes, and without speaking a word recognized each other as members of the same tribe. We had all opened our hearts and our homes to embrace an animal as family.
My cat friend
Zoë, was the reason for the visit. I have done everything possible to create a safe outdoor environment for them, by building a high fence, that keeps them in and mostly keeps other animals out. But it seems that she had been attacked by something, and had a large gash in her very small body across her abdominal area. It went undetected for about 3 1/2 days, because the wound had folded in on itself, and there wasn't even any blood. So even though I heard her scream in her angry girl fighting voice, I've heard her use it to warn off other cats passing by, outside of the fence, and so I put it down to the neighbor cat getting too close to her turf. Especially, since I could find nothing obviously wrong with her. She was angry and upset, and continued to curse at everyone. I guess I should have known.
She spent the day hunkered down and didn't eat. I still couldn't find anything wrong with her. But I gave her some energy medicine, and she seemed to be fine the next day. Appetite was back and she was moving around again.
Over the next 2 days she got better and better. She seemed like herself in every way except that she was careful with her movements. But I continued to be worried. We talked about taking her to the vet, but our experience with that has mostly been, expensive tests that show nothing, and then the vet says they can find nothing wrong, and the animal gets well on their own. On Friday night, I was doing a BodyTalk session on her and found lumps on her stomach. The shape of it reminded me of intestines and my fear was a hernia. I wouldn't even let my mind dwell on the possibility of tumors. I just knew I needed to get her to the vet.
The next day husband and I drove Zoë
into
town for her appointment. I watched with horror as the vet's assistant
pried open the folds of skin to reveal a wound that most likely would have been
slow poison to my small friend. So much of the tissue had already died.
My poor dear girl.
And
through all of that handling, she didn't utter a sound. And she held as
still as possible. Which has definitely won her a spot in the tough girl hall of fame.
They
did surgery to repair the wound and I was able to keep the promise I had made
to her, before we set out, that no matter what, I would bring her home that
same day.
She's
sleeping next to me right now as I write. Somehow, I've made her
understand that it's not a good idea to try and get at the wound while it
heals. I've used words and sent her pictures in my mind to help her
understand. And as added incentive, she knows about The Cone. The
dread 'cone of shame'. She's worn one before, and I sent her pictures and
stimulated her memory about how it felt. Never the less, I will be
spending the next few days watching her. Which will allow me a good
excuse to plant myself in one spot and write.
