It’s been a couple of weeks since my last entry, and I confess that I was waiting to write something when I had something encouraging to report about Big Mike. Alas, that is not the case.
Yes, he’s doing better than he was. But last week, when Dr. Sue checked his wounds, she discovered that the skin grafts had not “taken” after all. I don’t know who was more disappointed – me or her. Her frustration was evidenced by her comment, “maybe we should have just amputated back in June.” That really stunned and upset me. Why even mull that path not taken? His leg is much better now than it was, and he does continue to heal. Why the glacial pace is unclear. Is it because he’s FIV-positive? Hard to believe he has a compromised immune system – his coat is now lush and silky-soft, his eyes are bright, and he’s even playful.
But with her words, I realized that my dream of finding him a home for Christmas was not going to come true, and it was a bitter pill. It also means additional twice-weekly bandage changes, which means more money for me and more stress for him. Although he is really handling those like a champ. Curls up and goes almost into a trance. Here he is, just last night. I dread these appointments – it upsets me so much to see him being held down and worked on. But I have to always remember how oddly forgiving he is – how quick to bounce back – almost as if he understands why this is happening.
So it will be a while longer. And while I adore having this magic kitty* in my house, there are others out there waiting for a chance to come in for a landing. (*I was ready to throw my computer out the window the other morning when I couldn’t get my email for two hours. I went upstairs for a dose of Mike – always like taking a happy pill – and asked him to please fix my email. I went back downstairs and it was functioning perfectly.) Anyway, a black kitten has shown up at the Stone Pine parking lot, looking to be around 4-5 months old, and with a skin condition that makes its fur sparse – not good with temperatures starting to plunge at night. I set a trap for Ebony (my name for it) the last few days… and of course Ebony has disappeared. God, this work is so frustrating at times – and heartrending.
And then, there is Diego, a kitty I trapped and neutered almost two years ago with his sister Frida, and returned to the ravine when he proved too unhappy with my human company. But in the last year, he has shown me undeniable behaviors that he now wants my affections – shyly arching his back and rubbing against branches, fences etc. in an awkward attempt to get closer. He is so anxious for contact that even as hungry as he is every morning (I only feed him once a day) he won’t touch the food until we have our tentative petting session. Here he is in the spring, before he started allowing me to stroke his back.
Anyway, I would love to get him where I could socialize him more and find him a home, but the inn is FULL. In fact, I’m not sure what I’ll do with Ebony when I catch the little darling. But I can’t worry about that. I see a need and can’t bear to see critters suffer. I’ll figure it out as I go along. Much as I’ve done for Big Mike. All I can do is bear up under my disappointment and anxiety and trust in the universe to help him heal. St. Francis, any help would be appreciated.
You are doing great work. Oh how I want to take Mike! If only I could. I am sending strength and patience.