It's kinda cool outside. The wind's been blowing the whole day. The wind chimes haven't stop singing their choir since the morning. The sun isn't as bright as it used to.
Where I am, in my part of the world, the season start changing. Sometimes it's hot, sometimes it's windy, sometimes it's just darn cold, like these past few days.
As the year creeps to near end, the rain start to come.
Soon it's going to be the season to give. Give more blankets, more vitamins, more medicine. Give more place for the new kittens strewn across the street to die, or the dying old cats and young ones alike that can no longer stand the harshness of this cursed town that is uncaring inside, though full of smile outside.
But it's kinda cool because I think Liam will need less.
Last month when I found him on the street, his head is as big as a grapefruit, containing a cup of pus and rotten blood. Draining all of those necrosis was such a great job that we both flopped in exhaustion afterwards. Liam because he has to hold all the pain, me because I have to hold all my heart. No, no tears, or at least I didn't have the chance to think about crying. He has too many bite marks that turns his head into a volcano full of craters that I am sure will kill him when it burst, so I want to be sure I drain every single one.
It's not pretty, but it's kinda cool that he survived. (his story here: Someday it'll be Saturday night)
Due to his long sustained injuries, he seems to be in perpetual disorientation. He is wobbly. He can't stand straight, much less walk. His head is bobbing all the time like some car ornament, and where the most bite marks were located, one of his eyes squinted and it give him the crooked face of a pirate; though not for too long.
I have to hold his head when he eats, or he will slam his face nose first into the bowl because of his bobbing head. And he can only lick, with much, much effort. I gave him Royal Canin Recovery, mixed with super food donated by our fans in Sacramento, and some essence of Chicken and pro-biotic. I have never thrown so many into the mix before, and I bet it is maybe the most expensive food I ever give to a cat, even more expensive than my own, but I am not complaining. I figured early on that I owe him that much to bring him as closest as he can to recovery, whether or not he eventually make it.
I mean, with wounds like that and no flesh left on his head, in a place where quality vet service is non existent, future won't be looking so good.
But it's kinda cool that he made amazing progress, one after another. His wounds are healing fast, his eyes no longer squinted, he looks much, much fresher than when he first come.
He still can't walk, and he spend the whole day laying around on my bed (put him outside and the kittens will stomp all over him), so that's where I got that light bulb saying that a diaper will come in handy. But pet diaper is expensive, so I have to be happy with baby diapers.
It's kinda not so cool, seriously. I never touch a diaper before. I never have kids, and I never want to, but if I am to save both of us cat and human the jeopardy of perpetual litter accidents on my bed, I'd better learn fast.
I am not sure if he is happy with it, what do you think?
The next step is get him to learn to eat solid food. So I try mixing a kibble or two into his slurry food, and he munches them right on.
Hey it's kinda cool! And so Liam learn to eat solids.
And after he learns to eat solids, he learns to drink. It's a mess because he keep diving his nose into the bowl and get water into his nose. I don't want liquid get into his lungs, so I started him off with a saucer and a little water, and I still have to hold his head from slamming onto it, but we survived, and now Liam can drink on his own.
Then he started to perk around, and even learn to walk, though just a few steps before he tumbles, but yeah, i am learning to be a good momma so I am not complaining and keep cheering him on.
I start to grow hope that one day he is going to be cat again.
Soon, he walked out of my bedroom, though he walks like a drunk. He lay down and stretch and behave like a cat should be, he plays with but he never goes further than being a spectator, or a single player.
Of course, it is because of his condition (you must see the video to see how bad his bobbing head hinders his movements), and it's not cool either, but maybe - I think - he needs more time to be himself again.
Day in, day out. The rain keeps coming more often, and the sun shines shorter every day. I prepared myself for the next batch of kitty season in the wet and the swamp of Chlamydia, parvo, distemper, and the dry freeze of donation because holiday season is the time people start thinking about themselves and give to whoever they see fit, and it's most likely their own.
I am worried about the two colonies that are now in my full responsibility. Their supposed caretaker, taking the most of my generous feeding (in preparation of colder months, actually) stop feeding them.
I forgot about me, and allow myself to drift away into the swamp of things that I have to waddle out every day to live to the next, and fell into the trap of depraved health.
It was kinda cool that day when it happened. We have 60 mph wind the whole day and the weather alternated between sunny and cloudy and drizzle of rain every half an hour since the day before. I can feel that my body is not fit, but tackling one chore after another distract me. I eat late like usual (like breakfast at 3pm?), drink only a little, and sleep only a little.
I had fever fifteen minutes later, and the heat is just getting crazier until I can no longer stand. My eyes are watery and my bones breaks like popcorn, but there is no one to care for the cats but me, so I go on. I decided I will just finish things up very quickly and lay down.
I can't remember the rest but pain, my room, Liam sat on my legs, and finally darkness.
I woke up a couple of hours later. My fever recedes, though my body is still aching and my head still feels like it's about to explode.
I take time to return to my full senses, and when I did, I clearly feel it's kinda cool outside. The rain had stopped, but I can still hear water dripping onto the concrete; the cats had fallen asleep so soundly.
Liam curled up right next to my face. It seemed to me that he figured out something was wrong, and so he tried to make me feel better. I didn't know how, but the effort he put to move from my leg to my face must be great.
Liam is kinda cool.
He suffered, he was beaten up, but he came back every single time, and when he come back, he come back stronger. That's cool!
And to those who think he might lose his IQ with all those injuries and his current handicap, you should see this video. Liam is trading his toy for a head rub.
Oh yes, it's kinda cool.