Close Combat...and Medical Adventures

[Gunboat1]

This was written in April, for the enjoyment of my family.   Hope you enjoy.   It's been a tough year for my kitty.....🙀

 

Close Combat...and Medical Adventures, by Otway, Feline Regent of Tennessee

 

Dear Friends and Family,

 

I am writing this shortly after having returned to the Palace, on the heels of a most eventful 36 hours. It is my hope that this account may serve as a cautionary tale, inspiring you to eternal vigilance in defending the boundaries of your own kingdoms.

 

At approximately 8pm Saturday night, I was outside in the evening darkness, patrolling the perimeter of the Palace grounds and inspecting the most recent work on the still-unfinished deck behind the main house. Over the past 15 months, our security cameras have detected the occasional presence of a coal-black, probably feral feline, sneaking about the premises in the wee hours. We have occasionally heard him caterwauling in the late-night hours as well. Unfortunately, I had dismissed the royal bodyguard for the evening, and was alone while making my rounds. The despicable intruder took advantage of the situation, and engaged me in a hard-pressed assassination attempt. I defended my honor and royal personage as well as possible, considering the circumstances of my tripod condition. The battle flowed underneath the unfinished deck, and with my back to the wall, I was cornered by the intruder. He bit my left foreleg significantly, leaving numerous puncture wounds and surface lacerations.

Fortunately, all was not lost. My ever-faithful Dad arrived at just this juncture, responding to the sounds of battle. He put the assassin to flight, and low-crawled approximately forty feet through the mud under the low deck to extract me. It was not apparent at this time that my royal personage had in fact been wounded. I spent the night under the guest-room bed.

The following morning (Easter Sunday, of course), Dad discovered the extent of my injuries. Given that I only have three legs to begin with, losing good use of a forepaw is a significant mobility impairment. He was able to trick me into eating some medication he had on hand to mildly sedate me and somewhat alleviate my pain while he consulted with the Royal Veterinarian. The Doctor advised that cat bites are almost always a cause of infection leading to abcess, as cat mouths are bacterial cesspools. Dad was kind enough to feed me, medicate me, lift me into and out of my box as needed, and snuggle me to sleep and watch over me through all of yesterday and last night. He canceled a planned trip away for a week of work as had been scheduled. (I admit, I am not displeased about that.)

This morning, we took a hated automobile journey to the animal hospital which the Royal Veterinarian runs. They began by inserting a temperature probe into an unspeakable location. Be warned, veterinarians are not to be trusted.  I was then placed in a plexiglass chamber and anesthetized into unconsciousness, during which period my wounds were inspected, debrided, flushed and bandaged. I have been given some kind of narcotic pain medication, which has inspired some interesting visual distortions accompanied by Jimi Hendrix musical interludes.

I have returned home, and am feeling much better now. I am sporting a lime-green bandage and am little the worse for wear. I can feel the antibiotics doing their work, and have no doubt that I shall be back in top form in no time. Dad has assured me that when next sighted, the assassin intruder is a dead cat walking. He's just the man to make good on that promise.

With fond regards and well wishes,

 

Otway, the Feline Regent