Last weekend the planets aligned and I spent a fabulous 36 hours with old friends. It’s probably been eight years since we have spent a weekend all together. Between the seven of us, we have had eight marriages, three divorces and 18 kids. So as you can imagine, we have lots to talk about. After plenty of sun therapy and can beer at the Flora-Bama, I woke up early Sunday to return home. On our way out of town, my friend and I picked up the area’s famed Royal Reds and Unnamed Husband was delighted when I called to tell him that I planned to boil the delightful shrimp that evening.
I got home, unpacked and quickly re-injected myself into the usual chaos. Claire and I headed to the grocery store to replenish the depletes and prepare for our shrimp boil. When we returned, the rabid twins were up from their nap. I was putting away groceries when I heard our five-month-old kitten, Lucy make a miserable sound. (For Lucy’s story, go here.) I look up to see her pancaked body fully covered by David laying on top of her. The only thing visible beneath the behemoth two-year-old was her head. I peel David off of her and decide that Lucy is safer outside.
When I put her down at the door, I notice that she is arching her back and won’t step on her left leg. Great, David squished the cat. Irrationally thinking she’ll shake it off, I pick her up, pet her and try again. She tries to walk, but instead arches her back with the same pathetic limp. Panic. I yell at Unnamed Husband to peel himself away from golf and get his opinion. We agree that she is maimed and disagree that we should call the vet. Momma reigns in this department and Claire and I head to the 24-hour animal hospital.
When we arrive at the emergency vet clinic, I describe the flattening, the wild twin, the back problem and the limp. The tech asks me what David weighs. 25 pounds. He then weighs Lucy. 6 pounds. The vet comes in and examines her. She seems to be acting normal and even takes a few steps without limping. He recommends that we x-ray her to check for ligament damage, punctured bladder, etc.
Two hours and $221 later, the vet tells me that she is fine but he thinks she is in heat. Apparently the back arching is a sign and merely coincedental. Having never had a female cat, I am overwhelmed with my ignorance and the giggles. We hurry home for the usual flurry of dinner, baths, bed. Shrimp boil postponed. Unnamed Husband furious.
The next morning, I call our regular vet to ask if we can spay a cat in heat. The sweet girl on the phone says yes but there’s an extra charge. Of course there is.
Welcome home, Momma.