It was a quiet Saturday, spent entirely at home playing video games and loafing around on the internet. There were no events worth noting; no unusual sounds or moments of conflict between the cats (tension had been high ever since we brought home Fang-A-Lang. My cats did not view this interloper with friendly eyes). It was a day completely without remark.
Which made it all the more shocking that night when I noticed my tiny black cat Shy had blood all over her nose and mouth.
I had gone into the bathroom to wash my hands and Shy had followed me, hoping for love and pettin’s. I saw what looked like a large bump over her nose which seemed out of place. I looked closer and noticed it was a build up of dried blood. There was more blood all around her nose and mouth and it was definitely hers and not from something else.
Shy is my baby. (Well, my fur baby now that my uterus is working on an actual people baby.) I’ve had her ever since she was a tiny kitten and my mom adopted her on my behalf from one of her neighbors whose cat had had kittens. I still remember getting the text message that had a picture of a small, kitten no bigger than a blob of ink, with the words, “I adopted a kitten for you! I named her Chicago but you can call her Shy.” For the record, I NEVER call her Chicago. She has always been Shy or more frequently, my little Shy Guy (named after the adorable masked Mario villains).
There is little point in arguing with my mom when she has decided something and honestly the kitten was so cute I didn’t really want to argue it all that much. With no protests from me, I was driving down to pick up the little gal, cat carrier in tow.
Yeah, she lasted maybe five minutes in that thing. Her miniscule pleas and tiny, outstretching paws reaching out of the carrier wore my heart down instantly. I released her from the carrier before we even made it down the street and we drove the rest of the way home with her either asleep in my lap or perched on my shoulder, looking out the window.
She has been my baby pretty much ever since. To this day, I am the only person she routinely cuddles and gives affection to. I am able to hold her on her back, in my arms like a baby and she utters no cries of protest. But woe be to those who see this display and decide to imitate my hold on her. Then the claws come out. And the teeth. And the hissing. And rowling. General asshole behavior.
Needless to say when I saw the blood I flipped. My. Shit. Frequently. Until it was evenly toasted on both sides. I was the perfect example of a hyperbolic reaction and probably would have made a wonderful poster woman for Hysterical Cat Ladies: The Movie.
And of course we discovered this at 11:00pm on a Saturday night, when the vet is closed and won’t be open again till Monday. We looked her over from all angles and since she could breathe and was eating and drinking regularly we decided we could probably hold off on the emergency vet and their $500 walking in the door fee.
Shy was still looking and acting like she was totally fine. She seemed ignorant to the fact that her nose looked like it had lost a fight with a rock. Even though she was acting fine and healthy, I was still unable to relax and slept like crap that whole night. All of us were completely baffled on what could have happened to Shy. We had all been home all day and had heard nothing to suggest pain or injury to anyone. Surely an altercation between cats would have created some sort of sound? The fact that we couldn’t tell if she was wounded externally or if the blood was bubbling up out of her nose was also worrisome. Monday could not come fast enough for me.
Fortunately I was able to score an early appointment with my vet and brought Shy in quickly. It was not a pleasant visit. Shy is not a very tolerant cat when it comes to new people and she hated being touched by the vet or the tech. Whenever the tech held Shy so the vet could try to look at her face, Shy scream-rowled at the top of her lungs until they let go. As soon as they let go she shut up. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so humiliating to be honest.
In the end I had to hold Shy on her back, like a baby in my arms and then the vet was able to get close enough to look at her nose. We still don’t know how she did this, but it seems that Shy somehow scraped her face; the area starting from her upper lip all the way to the top of her nose had apparently been scraped open. We don’t know if she tried to jump somewhere stupid and ended up biffing it or what. However she cheese-grated her face she managed to do it quietly since Friday night she had been completely uninjured.
Fortunately the wound was over all mild and required no special care other than to keep an eye on it and bring her in again if it started looking infected (it never did, thank goodness). Shy was brought home and immediately passed out from the stress the whole visit had brought onto her and I have to say I ended up joining her in that nap because damn, being worried about your pet is exhausting.