Cat in trouble? Grab the broom and run barefooted to the rescue
On consecutive Saturdays last month, my cats Blue and Sky found themselves fighting for their lives. They weren't the only ones.
I should have known better than to ask my neighbor to toss Sky to me as the cat was being retrieved from a tree.
"Toss her to me," I suggested, as my neighbor was struggling on the ladder. I was only trying to help her. Suddenly those long claws appeared as she dug into me while flying in the air. I have the scars to remind me that catching a cat in midair is not smart.
Incidentally Sky was chased up the tree by my neighbor's dog, Rocky. The dog lives in a wide open area inside a fence but has been known to dig out when he has a yearning to chase cats.
The very next Saturday, the cats were outdoors by 7 a.m. romping on a frost-covered lawn. As I looked out the door, I saw what I thought was an over-sized groundhog, turning Blue every which way but loose.
My first thought was it could not be Rocky. My neighbors had reinforced their fence after the previous episode.
But sure enough. It was Blue in a whirlwind and Rocky was doing the turning.
In my sleep wear, no sock or shoes, but with sturdy broom in hand, I fled to the field behind my house. Screaming is an understatement. I swatted Rocky with the broom a couple times and Blue escaped.
Before he made it to safety, Rocky got Blue again. This time was worse. I was crying and screaming and hitting Rocky with my broom. What seemed to be hours was probably only a minute and Rocky ran.
Blue was traumatized He did not move an inch. He had so much trash and debris on him I couldn't tell anything about his injuries.
Picking him up in my arms, I kept telling Blue he was okay. Traumatized cats don't hear you. All of a sudden he nailed a finger on my left hand and with his a very sharp claw, got me in the neck.
He wasn't turning loose and neither was I. I wasn't sure if he had my jugular vein or what, I suspected a cat in shock might tear my neck off.
I only imagined the worst when I finally arrived back to my house. Telling myself I was not going to die, Blue must have felt my heart beating out of my chest so he turned my neck loose. I pried my finger from his teeth. His beautiful white and champagne fur was bloody. Sticks and winter yard debris nearly covered him.
I managed to get Blue into an empty bath tub where he soon regained his senses.
As it turned out, I was the one hurt. Blue didn't have a mark on him that I could find. His bloody coat was my very own O negative.
I fled to the medicine cabinet and doused a bottle of alcohol and peroxide on my open wounds.
When I went for a tetanus shot on Monday, the statement from the nurse, "Tell me his rabies shot is up to date." Absolutely.
As it turned out, Sky and Blue's rabies shots would have been out-of-date in just five more days.
Inside the vet's office only days later, Blue and Sky apparently thought the end of their lives had come once again.
These pitiful cats, petrified of anything resembling a dog, were suddenly surrounded by a room full of dogs, including a boxer, just like Rocky.
I knew they were safe inside their cat taxi, but they didn't.
When we made it back home after their shots, they stopped pretending they were dead and came to life long enough to make it to their favorite hiding places.