Grey Day - Thursday, August 13th, 2009
Tomorrow after work I get to drive one of my neighbors up the street to the animal hospital. Kitti and I took Grey, the neighborhood cat, there tonight.
Two mornings ago, Grey was hit by a truck that was going too fast up the alley behind our house. Grey stayed flat and avoided the tires, but was hit against the exhaust system of the truck and bounced hard. We thought he was already gone.
He showed up this morning, in terrible shape. I wasn’t sure what to do and wasn’t able to get him to the vet by myself (if I held him, how would I drive? Could I even pick him up?). Fortunately Grey came back this evening when Kitti came home.
He’s in great spirits. He’s purring and meowing and snuggly, but he’s in obvious pain. His jaw is broken and off-center. Since it’s been two days since the accident, his jaw has already started knitting back together in the wrong place. He’s missing some teeth and there’s an infection in his lower jaw. He’s also very slightly cross-eyed.
Other than that, he’s in good health and good spirits. Amazing for a cat that’s at least thirteen years old! He recognizes us and Cardiff (he and the dog have this weird, cuddly relationship — the kind they make Disney movies about) and he wants to eat, but the pain, infection, and misalignment of his jaw means he can’t.
We sat in the vet’s office tonight and cried. He can be saved, but the surgery is a) expensive, and b) not guaranteed at his age. He might not live through it. He might never successfully fight off the infection. The aftercare will be expensive and rough (medication, feeding, a wire in his jaw to set it right). He’d likely have no teeth left afterward, putting him at risk unless he were kept entirely indoors.
Kitti and I talked to the neighbor about it. She can’t afford the surgery — especially not if there’s not a great chance it would save him. So tomorrow I’ll take her to the vet so she can say goodbye and maybe hold his paw while he goes to sleep.
Grey has survived a lot — harsh winters, hot summers, hurricanes and tropical storms, a fire that left him homeless and shellshocked — and he survived getting hit by a truck. He was a fierce hunter, a fierce cuddler, and had the quietest meow I ever heard. The whole street loved him. This is for the best. He’ll get to go with dignity and peace. He won’t end up in the gutter or in some empty house. He’ll go with love.
He wasn’t my cat. He was everyone’s cat. It is very much okay for me to be heartbroken.
