You might remember that a few weeks ago I mentioned that, while I was at the beach with my amazing girls, The Guy found a dying cat and set up a Cat Hospice on my back porch. Or you may not remember since my blog is not the most important thing in your life. At least I hope it's not because that would be sad for you and too much pressure for me.
Anyway. After analyzing the cat's symptoms with the help of the Internet, The Guy decided the cat had been poisoned and there was no hope. Turns out, the Internet does not make The Guy a vet. The cat kept living. He was still blind and still staggering, but alive. Back to the Internet went The Guy. This time, he determined that the cat was in the last stages of feline leukemia. Guess what? Still not a vet. The cat lives on.
Finally, says The Guy, "I think I need to take him to the vet. I feel guilty for waiting this long but I was sure he'd be dead soon. I just wanted to make his last days comfortable."
Off to the vet they go. I did not go. Beyond feeding him during the day, I was determined not to get emotionally involved with a cat that had "death" stamped on his head.
Well, you know where you get vet-worthy advice? From a vet. Turns out, the cat had an ear infection—one that was so bad it made him blind. So now, my back porch has changed from Cat Hospice to Cat Hospital. (Someday I'm going to explore the root words of "hospice" and 'hospital". I regret not having studied Latin—not that it was taught at my county high school.)
Anyway. At this point, cat is not out of the woods, but he can't come in the house with the other cats. Not because I say so. Because the vet says so. And we are going to go with what she says since she's the only one who has shown any sense at all about this situation.
I could go on about reactions to antibiotics and the chicken I had to boil and mix with rice but I won't. The cat continues to live. In fact, he's gained over a pound, has had his shots, and been neutered. Also, though he will probably never have the eyes of an eagle, he can see now.
Guess where he's living. Yep. I've tried to find him a home, where he wouldn't be the fourth cat, but since it's SO easy to find a home for a healthy cat with full vision, guess how that worked out. People do not want a special needs cat, even if he's white and sweet, with blue eyes.
Godson's Mom said it best. "Four is so many more than three." She ought to know. She's had four in the past because Godson's Dad keeps bringing them home. She only has three now, but she wouldn't even discuss it with me. I pointed out that she has more square feet in her house than I do. She says the bonus room doesn't count because they never go there. Neither does the little sitting room off Precious Angel's room.
I digress. What a surprise.
So now he has a name. Boo.
Have you had any accidental additions to your household?