100 Happy Days #6
What would a list of happiness be without a picture of my dear, sweet, silly old three legged cat…hmmmm? This sturdy fellow has had a pretty tough old life. As a matter of fact, this guy has been a fighter since he was very young–quite literally–whopping great, big, mean cats out of our yard and sometimes neighborhood, not to mention the dogs, three times his size that are sorry they ever met him. He’s come home with cuts and scrapes and even a completely broken tail one time. He’s been shot with a bebe gun more times than I care to think about–(an angry post that shall forever remain unwritten) and has several nicks in his ears and scars on his head to prove it. He was kidnapped–no, I’m not kidding–and taken nearly 50 miles away and after 9 days, found his way back to us–terrifically skinny and scarred up, but happily home. Then, last year, as you may know, he broke his back leg and was so brave about it, that we didn’t even know for a month. Eventually, he lost that leg, but sincerely–if you saw him, you’d swear he had no idea it was even gone. He’s gained weight since and his coat is thick and shiny again as if he were a youngster…but he’s not.
He has followed me around since he was a kitten and still seems to be happy enough just sitting a few inches away from me–no matter where I am. This very minute, he is laying dangerously close to the office chair I’m typing in, completely content to stay until I go upstairs. He’ll come with me, I know.
I’m pretty sure, this little kitty is the dearest, most loyal, non-judgemental friend I have ever had. I love him so much.
Please, just live forever, Beany.
Could you do that?
It would make me so happy.
Oh, she’s a funny one, this girl.
She’s shy and quiet and timid and apprehensive and skittish and jumpy and aloof and bored…until…
someone sits down at the computer.
Then she will force her way between whomever it is and the keyboard and just stand there…in the way. You can’t really see the screen with a cat in your face and you certainly can’t type with a furry body standing between your arms and you absolutely can’t concentrate with a kitty head nudging into your chin every 10 seconds or so.
The funny part is that she is thrilled with the whole set up. In fact, I’m quite sure that she wonders what my problem is. I can almost hear her saying in her breathy, girlie feline voice, “Oh, don’t mind me. Just keep doing whatever it was that you were doing. I’m completely comfortable.”
And why shouldn’t she be?
She runs the place.
As you can see, this old guy is doing great–better than he’s been in years. Why, he’s running up and down the stairs, following me everywhere I go, eating like a horse, catching mice in the garden, and swatting at his little sister Jiffy–just to teach her who is still the big man around here, in case she forgot. He’s even put back on some good solid weight to substantiate the claim. Legoless, we’re calling him, which is a hearty, tough guy name…with a double meaning.
Yeah, he’s even taken to bossing me around these days. “Let me out. Let me in. Let me out and then right back in. Feed me the chicken food. Feed me the turkey this time. Now let me out again–and of course, right back in. Oh, he’s pushing his luck pulling this stuff all day long, but he nearly needs a swat when he tries it at 4 in the morning. Oh, and he’s developed a funny meow to go along with his new “I run the joint” attitude. It’s a howl of sorts. And I’d be happy to ignore it, except that it’s quite impossible at the crack of dawn. This guy’s a nut job I tell you…a twenty year old nut job.
Good thing I positively love the living daylights out of this old, silly cat.
And apparently he isn’t missing the back leg, one little bit.
For those of you who have wondered~ my cute little Beany Boy got his stitches out this week. Of course, I didn’t stay in the room when they did it…not brave enough for that stuff. No siree. The tough old Bald Kid said, “Run along momma. I’ve got this,” and so I did. Hid out in the lobby pacing around just out of ear shot…just in case. Beany has been eating better food and has gotten much stronger in the past few weeks, so, it took someone manly like the Bald Kid to hold him tight for the stitches adventure–and so he didn’t eat the face off the vet. That would have been unfortunate.
But he’s happy to be back home and to be finished with the creepy medicine that we were suppose to give him twice a day. Best of all, now the old war-horse can finally go outside again–which makes us all very happy indeed. Just in the backyard for now, though until his hair grows back because he still looks a bit alarming…like a plucked chicken.
So, we’ll keep him close, till he can go out front with his kitty head held high and his dignity firmly in place.
You know, till he gets back on his feet…
all three of them.
I’ve posted many times in the last few years about Mr. Beany and his adventures, and more particularly in the last few months–with his injured leg. The vet told us that there wasn’t much that he could do other than give him antibiotics if it flared up occasionally. Then one day, he just happened to be laying a certain way and I got a real good look at the inside of his leg. The condition of his back right paw had definitely taken a turn for the worse.
I took him to the vet again. After examining him, he came out to me and said, “You know…Beany is very, very old…” I knew what he was about to say but I couldn’t let him. I held up one finger and managed to say, “Just don’t.”
Then I started to cry.
The decision was made to relieve Beany of the burden of that terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad…
When the doctor told me that Beany might not even make it through the surgery–I said, “Then that will be the Lord’s decision, not mine. At least he’ll go knowing that I was trying to help. He deserves that.”
So, I held him on my lap and talked to him for awhile. He seemed to get that I was sad and worried but that I love this old silly cat so darn much. I handed him over to the nurse and slowly walked to my car. I kept thinking how strange it would be to not have Beany anymore…if something were to happen to him. I sat in the car and bawled for awhile, then drove home.
The next evening at about 5:30 pm I finally spoke to the doctor. He said, “That is one tough cat.” Good, good news. My cute little tough-guy cat was apparently much sicker than we had thought. In fact, he had a fever going into surgery, but the second that angry leg was gone his temperature dropped down to normal.
Long story, short– this cat is a champ and he did beautifully…
and we got to bring him home the next day–Saturday night. Look how swollen his paw was from the IV.
Now some of these pictures are graphic so if you have a tender stomach, you might want to stop here. If you’re very brave…you’re welcome to continue on.
We’ve had to give him several kinds of nasty medicine and a pill a couple times a day. Not too fun, but he’s a terrific sport.
This is Beany boy sitting up like nothing ever happened…
the day after surgery. Sorry, I know it’s pretty graphic, but I’m just amazed at him just carrying on like it’s any other day, except that he’s missing a leg.
This nutty guy has already jumped up on my bed and back down a couple times. He follows me around and lays on the floor by me wherever I am–like he’s just glad to be here…with us.
Oh, me too Bean.
Thanks for sticking around.
I’m not really ready for the world without you.