I have come to believe, in my 46 (nearly 47) years on this planet that the cat distribution system is a real thing. Not only do I [firmly] believe in it, but I am also a firm believer in if something is meant to be, it will be. The cat distribution system is how our family has received several of the kittens in our lives and those that we specifically chose? Like the kittens we have rescued from a shelter? Those kittens were definitely... let's say they did not necessarily integrate with our family well. Even our older, adopted kitty that we inherited from one of our good friends after not being able to take her back to Indiana, came into our lives and chose us (or rather in that case, chose Kacy - the jury is still out on me).
Oswin attached himself to Kacy at a gas station in Rochester, Indiana on the way to a job site early one morning. Kacy, attempting to shoo him away from under her truck, had the tiniest little thing immediately nuzzling her hand. I got a text shortly after simply stating: "His name is Oswin." It was followed with a picture of the tiniest tabby kitten I had ever seen crawling on Kacy's shoulder. We now call him a heckin' chonk who loves his time on the patio in the sunshine.
Murkey (who is no longer with us, but was able to retire to Florida before his untimely demise due to an undetermined illness that made it nearly impossible for him to walk without pain and everything in his paws to swell) screamed loud enough for the kids and myself to find him lodged in a bundle of weeds that I would very shortly after discover was poison sumac. No good deeds went unpunished for my rescue of this kitten. Along with poison sumac, a flea infestation of epic proportions occurred that required multiple flea bombs. What was even worse was the fact that Megan, who was 3 at the time, carted the newly-found kitten everywhere, and infested her room with fleas. It was not a fun time in our household. Murkey, however, lived his best cat life and turned into one of the best mousers I had ever seen and even brought us several moles!
Henry/Ren/Nugget, our introduction into the weirdness and "vibe" that are orange cats. He came running up to us 2 years ago after a particularly bad rain storm. We had just gotten home from a birthday dinner for Ace and as we are getting out of the car, we hear a kitten meowling incredibly loud. We looked around and the next thing we see is a tiny orange kitten racing across the yard towards us. He must have been less than a pound soaking wet (and he was soaking wet when he first found us). We scooped him up, dried him off and fed him some tuna. My reaction: "Well, crap." Henry has all of the orange cat energy and all the love of a tabby. While Henry is still, by far, my favorite cat that has ever found it's way to us, this little guy has very quickly melted my heart and turned me into a ball of mush.
This is Crumbles. Crumbles is one of four feral kittens that belong to what I lovingly refer to as "The Scrungles." His Mom is Bubbles, a beautiful and somewhat skiddish calico, that found it's way to our house one evening. When we first met his Mom, she was a kitten herself. Somewhere along the lines, she found herself in a family way and about 6 weeks ago she gave birth. Two weeks ago she brought the kittens over to the carport (where we have been leaving her and her sibling food since they were kittens), I'm guessing for added protection and maybe some "kitty sitting" time. The fact that a feral cat trusted us to get as close as we have to her kittens is amazing to me.
The four kittens were doing fantastically (they still are) but I noticed one day that Crumbles was limping. I mentioned it to Kacy that we would have to keep an eye on it and the next day we discovered that his paw had swelled up to three times it's normal size. The poor kitten was barely moving, hiding in a corner by itself and as the day progressed we noticed that Mom was ignoring the poor little dude. He would hobble his way over to her and she would be incredibly rough with him, not let him nurse or push him down. I took him to the vet and she thought it was a compression injury - like he had gotten his arm trapped in something and pulled too hard, injuring himself. We just had to let the injury resolve itself.
Later in the evening, I saw Crumbles laying on the towel we had put down, a gash in his arm that did not look good at all. I thought (and perhaps I was right) that I could see bone. I instantly told Kacy and went into a mild panic. My spidey sense had been going off since I had noticed Mom being a bit mean to him, but now I was in "we have to do something!" mode. Kacy and I scooped up the kitten and brought him inside. I called my friend Mickie to see what I should do as she has always been the resident cat expert in my life.
Mickie talked me through getting fluids in him with some "sweet water." We set up our dog's old crate for him, grabbed one of the old towels we had set out for Mom and babies to lay on in our laundry room, and settled in for a long night. I don't think I expected him to make it through the night. The next morning we called the vet again and were able to get an appointment first thing.
The moment we sat Crumbles down on the exam table, pus started oozing from the gash. The vet, Kacy and I gasped in horror. I instantly wanted to remove all weight from the paw and stop the oozing. The vet jumped in, did a quick exam and came up with a plan. We couldn't do anything about the gash- it needed to heal. So, they drained Crumbles' arm and he came out still swollen, but very deflated. The vet gave him some pain relief, an oral antibiotic and an ointment that we have to put on him twice a day. In addition to that, we are supposed to debride the wound once a day. She sent us home with some nutrient-rich kitten food and all our drugs.
The next morning we decided to see if we could get the kitten to eat because it hadn't had much of anything up to that point. We were so relieved when the kitten took its first bites of food. That was half the battle. Next challenge: getting the kitten to go to the bathroom. We had never done that one before. I am now sure that my youtube algorythem is completely messed up because I watched half a dozen quick videos of how to stimulate a kitten to use the bathroom. Up to this point the kittens we had were all old enough to use litter pans by themselves; becoming the de-facto Momma cat at this point? All new to us. Add an injury on top of that? We had two very restless nights, waking every 4 hours to make sure the kitten ate.
Crumbles has made an incredible recovery. While his paw is no where near healed, he has gone from sleeping and me thinking he wasn't going to make a night to attacking my finger, using the litter pan, and just this morning - purring. When I heard his internal engine start going my heart completely melted. I wanted to wake Kacy up and tell her, but she didn't sleep much over the weekend. That purr though... I'm hooked.
I'm going to do whatever I can to help get this little toot as close to a normal life as I can.
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