With heart in throat, I say goodbye for two weeks

UPDATE TO BELOW: Five days after Mike’s surgery, the vet tells me he’s doing fine. His skin grafts are “taking” and his stitches are holding. He is being weaned off pain meds, which means he’s waking up a bit. Fortunately, he isn’t picking at his surgical area and – praise heavens – has even warmed to his surroundings. Yesterday, when the vet reached into the cage to pet him, this time he turned his huge head to welcome her hand, and began to purr. That’s my boy.

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Finished with my huge festival week – the thing I work all year on – I had to stare down the specter of taking Big Mike to the vet hospital for a lengthy stay while I’m out of town. For days ahead of time, every visit I had with him would end in my getting choked up, as I did here in this video.

big mike vid 5

I’ve been challenged in the realization that he will be a crippled cat for the rest of his life. As feared, as his torn muscles have healed, they have shortened, giving him a wicked limp. It kills me, though I also realize he will have a wonderful life anyway, and learn to cope with the handicap. What upsets me more is that he’s so trusting, so kind and wise. What would his thoughts be as I packed him off with his bed and teddy bear for a cage at the vet’s office? Would he think he’s being abandoned again? Or was I being a doofus for even thinking these thoughts, anthropomorphizing him to human status?

When the night came Sunday, he was good as gold, if confused. I tried not to cry in front of the vet, who VERY kindly indulged me in having a nightlight for him, and a radio on NPR so he would not feel so alone. (She has him in a motor home that doubles as her operating room, and he is the only critter being kept in there.)

Again, this kitty has gotten to me like few others in my life.

As I drove north on Monday toward Seattle and Port Townsend I called twice, risking irritating Dr. Sue’s hard-working assistant. They would not do the surgery today, they told me, but it would be tomorrow. More calls on Tuesday until I reached her afterward. He had done fine; she had done some sutures to pull together the skin in places, and skin plugs / grafts in others. He would need to be quiet and still for five days so it’s best that he stay there. Relieved but anxious for his potential feelings of abandonment, I immediately started lining up a couple of friends to go and visit him as he recovered. Sigh.

It doesn’t take a Freudian to tell me I am clearly projecting my abandonment issues onto Big Mike; at the same time, this cat, as has been told to me by my telepathic friend, is a “very evolved being.” For better or for worse, I think that means he is better able to understand what is happening to him, and maybe even why. I just hope it also means that when I get home, his forgiveness will be quick and complete.

St. Francis, watch over my beautiful boy and speed his healing! A wonderful life awaits beyond the bandages.