Coated With Fur: A Blind Cat's Love

by Kristen Nelson

“I need to take Jimmy to school now,” she said, not looking at me. “Jimmy,” she called. The child appeared in the doorway an instant later. “It’s time to go,” she said with her hand extended toward him. Jimmy immediately placed his hand in hers, and they left the clinic.

  I walked into the treatment room to help Allie.

  “Wow, that lady is a real piece of work,” Allie observed. “I can’t believe she told you to kill Iggy in front of her son.”

  “She’s hurting as much as the child,” I responded. “I’ve seen a lot of parents use the children to get back at each other. For Jimmy’s sake, I hope these two parents knock it off.” I looked into the incubator. “How does Iggy like the new digs?”

  “Hard to tell,” Allie replied. “This one is so sick. He didn’t fight at all when I treated him.” Iggy laid on top of a towel under a UV light. His entire body twitched uncontrollably.

  “If the seizures don’t improve in an hour, give another dose of calcium,” I instructed. We heard a soft thud from the dark room.

  I retrieved Joey’s films and hung them on the light box. Allie and Kim had positioned Joey’s legs perfectly on the film. I was able to compare the left to the right with ease. I noticed a triangular-shaped lucent (light) area at the end of the left ulna, extending through the growth plate. Joey had a retained cartilage core, which is a marker of rapid, uneven growth. In some patients, the discrepancy in growth between the ulna and the radius becomes so bad that it distorts the elbow.

  I scanned Joey’s elbows, measuring the joint spaces with a small ruler on the side of my calculator. So far, the spaces were all the same. If I could slow down his growth by changing him to an adult dog food, the condition might correct itself without treatment. If the abnormal growth continued, Joey might need surgery to prevent damage to his elbow.

  “What do you see?” Allie asked, staring at the films.

  “Joey’s got a retained cartilage core in his left ulna.” I pointed at the spot on the film. “So far his legs are straight, no valgus deformity. Go ahead and start the next appointment while I explain this to Faith.” As I turned to go, I added, “Good job on the films. I know it wasn’t easy getting Joey to hold still.”

  Allie smiled and nodded, still staring at the films.

  “I’ve never seen one of these before,” she said. “It’s amazing that any of us turn out normal with so many things that can go wrong.”

  “Are you in the normal or abnormal category?” I joked.

  “I’m normal,” she winked at me. “You…I’m not so sure.”

  Chapter 24

  Storm Clouds

  “Man, it’s cold out there,” Kim announced, removing her mittens and unzipping her jacket. She held a brown paper bag in one hand and a six-pack of root beer in the other. Gray clouds replaced the bright morning sunshine, keeping the morning temperature well below freezing. Wind blew a trail of snow off the large snow banks piled along the road. Welcome to January in Minnesnowta!

  “The grocery store was pretty low on vegetables. I got the last bag of spinach,” she informed us. “Iggy’d better eat this after what I went through to get it.”

  “People must be stocking up before the storm hits,” Allie replied. “How were the roads?”

  “Not bad yet,” Kim replied. “But the wind is really picking up.” She placed the groceries on the counter by the fridge and headed to her locker. She should have worn a hat. Her blond hair provided little protection for her ears; they were bright red from top to bottom.

  Allie placed the soda pop on the bottom shelf next to the Seven-Up. She made sure we always had Sprite or Seven-Up for queasy clients and root beer to cut the taste from resuscitating newborns. Amniotic fluid tastes awful!

  “Do you think Iggy will eat yet?” Allie asked.

  “Probably not,” I said. “But you might as well try.”

  Allie emptied the contents of Kim’s purchase onto the counter. She placed the zucchini and carrots in the vegetable drawer but kept out the iguana favorites, spinach and raspberries. She washed one leaf along with two berries, then shredded each into the perfect size for Iggy’s little mouth.

  Back in the incubator, Iggy hadn’t moved in the last hour. He laid with his eyes closed under the UV light, basking in the warmth. The tremors that had rocked his body were gone. Allie watched the second hand of her watch orbit the Enterprise once while she counted Iggy’s respirations. They were much improved.

  “Hey, Iggy,” she said before opening the lid. “How about a late lunch?” She placed a plastic margarine lid filled with greens on the towel next to Iggy. When the scent hit his nostrils, Iggy opened his eyes and lifted his head. Allie held the improvised dish in front of Iggy’s face. He looked down at the food for a second, then dove into it. He swallowed a dime-sized piece of spinach in one gulp, then attacked a piece of raspberry. Bits of berry clung to his chin, forming a red goatee. Iggy grabbed another mouthful of food, oblivious to his new look.

  After he’d eaten half the dish, he stopped and looked up at Allie. She turned the dish around and tilted the food toward him. He ate the rest without taking a breath. His tiny abdomen bulged with food.

  “That’s enough for now,” Allie said when the plate was empty. Iggy started to lick the lid, ignoring her. She cleaned his chin with a moist paper towel. “No, don’t eat this,” she scolded while pulling a piece out of his mouth. “I can tell that you’re going to be a real handful, Mister.” She petted Iggy’s head before closing the lid.

  “Did he eat?” Kim asked while heading for the radio. She switched the dial from Allie’s country western station to WCCO.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Allie asked. “I like that song.”

  “I’m trying to find a weather report,” Kim replied. The radio crackled and buzzed while she skipped from one end of the dial to the other. Finally, the needle stopped on A.M. 830.

  “We’re here with Minneapolis Mayor, Sharon Sayles Belton, to get the latest on the parking regulations after the storm,” the host said with a Minnesota accent. “To update our listeners, the National Weather Service has issued a winter storm warning starting at 4 p.m. for the following counties.” Kim drummed her fingers on the treatment table while the announcer ticked off the counties. “The storm has already dropped three inches on snow on the Fargo area, causing some whiteout conditions due to the high winds. All residents are urged to stay at home…” Kim snapped off the radio, cutting off the announcer in mid-sentence.

  “Great,” she sighed. “Why do we always get storms on Friday night? I have a date.”

  “Me too,” Allie lamented.

  “Dates,” I repeated upon entering the room. “Tell me all about your plans. I’m all ears.” I flashed a mischievous smile at Allie, then Kim.

  They looked at each other and sighed, saying nothing.

  “Oh, come on,” I encouraged them. “You know my husband. I should know your boyfriends.”

  Before either could answer, the phone rang. Kim giggled before answering. “Hello, Minnesota Veterinary Center, Kim speaking, how may I help you?” She listened for 10 seconds before saying, “Hold on a minute while I run up front to the appointment book.” She punched the hold button.

  “The first of many cancellations due to weather,” Allie guessed.

  “No, it’s the Beaumonts,” Kim replied. “Lilah has a purulent vaginal discharge. They were going to wait a few more days to see if it would go away but decided to bring her in today because of the storm.”

  “Wait a couple more days,” I repeated in disbelief. A list of life-threatening health problems entered my mind.

  Kim nodded. “The breeder told them it was normal after breeding to…” she paused. “I’ll repeat what Kay said.” She cleared her throat before saying, “drip some goobers after breeding.”

  “So they bred her even though she is hypothyroid,” Allie reminded me. She shook her head in disgust. “And I’ll bet they never tested Lilah or the stud for STDs before breeding them.”

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sp; “Be sure to take precautions around her,” I advised. “Get her into an exam room right away and then mop the floor with bleach water. Wear a gown and gloves. I don’t want anyone coming in contact with the discharge.”

  At 2:30, Kay walked into the clinic with Lilah and her husband, Bo. They each wore black snowmobile suits with orange reflective stripes down the arms. Allie opened the door to the cat room and motioned for them to come inside. Instead of wiping their boots on the entry mat, Bo and Kay stomped their boots on the lobby floor, spraying the white counter wall with dirt.

  “Dr. Nelson will be right in,” Allie informed them before closing them into the room. She put on a pair of rubber gloves, rolled the mop bucket out from behind the door and started to clean the floor. Kim and I entered the room from the back door dressed in protective gowns and gloves.

  “Wow,” Bo said when he saw us. “She is vaccinated for rabies, Doc.” He looked at Kay and rolled his eyes. Lilah rushed over to greet us, friendly as ever.

  “So you decided to breed her?” I directed my question to Kay.

  “Yes,” she replied. “She came into heat a few weeks after starting the pills, just like the breeder said.”

  “Did you test her and the stud for brucellosis and all the other things I told you about?”

  “Didn’t need to, Doc,” Bo replied. “The breeder told us both dogs were clean.”

  “And how would he know that without testing?” I asked.

  “By his knowledge and experience,” he replied, then unzipped the snowmobile suit, exposing a flannel shirt. “He told us to wait, and she would stop dripping, but it’s a mess to clean up, so we brought her in today.”

  “Well, your breeder is wrong,” I said calmly. “Pus isn’t normal anytime, and you should have tested both of them before breeding. Besides putting Lilah’s health at risk, you might have exposed yourself as well.”

  “Doc, my breeder’s been in the business for 40 years. He’s been breeding sheps since before you were born,” he said. “Kay asked him about testing, but he said it was a waste of money.” He paused to make sure I was listening to him.

  “Actually, I was going to call you to discuss this,” Kay said. “But Lilah came into heat, and we didn’t have time to test her.”

  “And now she needs some antibiotics to clear up this infection,” Bo said. “Get on with it, Doc.”

  “Lilah needs a lot more than just antibiotics,” I answered. “After the physical exam, I’m going to recommend some tests to determine what is causing her infection. I am very worried that she has an infected uterus. She might need to be spayed immediately.”

  Bo started to laugh. “That’s a good one, Doc,” he finally managed to say. “But all she really needs is antibiotics.” He stopped laughing and stared at me.

  “An infected uterus cannot be fixed with antibiotics,” I replied. “It has to be…”

  Before I could finish my sentence, Kay held up her hand. “Honey, I’ll handle this.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Why don’t you go wait in the lobby? Here’s the January edition of National Geographic,” she said, pulling the magazine out of her purse. He took it and left without another word.

  When he was seated in the lobby, Kay closed the door to the exam room. “Sorry about that, Dr. Nelson,” she said. “Money is a little tight after Christmas. He’s didn’t mean to insult you; he’s worried about the bills.”

  “Then you shouldn’t get into breeding. It costs a lot of money to give animals the care they deserve,” I replied.

  “We’re not going to become breeders,” Kay laughed. “I fell in love with Lilah the first time we met her. Bo wanted to buy her for me, but the breeder said no because he wanted to breed her one more time. We made a deal that she is mine after this litter. That’s why we have to listen to the breeder about her care.”

  I turned my attention to Lilah. Her coat looked so much better on the thyroid replacement and she acted like a pup, dancing around our feet. I started by taking her temperature, pulse and respiratory rate before examining each part of her body. Everything looked good until I got to her rear end. A long, thick string of green material hung from her vulva. Inside her vagina, more pus coated the inflamed mucosa. I took a sample for microscopic examination. Under the microscope, I identified several types of bacteria, some shaped like rods, some like periods. I doubted these were the cause of the infection. More likely, they were opportunistic bugs.

  “What now?” Kay asked after I explained my findings.

  “I noticed a small tear in the floor of Lilah’s vagina,” I responded. “Did you force her to breed?”

  Kay’s face turned red. She smacked her lips. “The breeder said she always plays hard to get, so he held her down for the stud.”

  I closed my eyes in disgust.

  Kay looked at Kim for support but didn’t get any. Kim held her dog treat pocket open and let Lilah clean out all the biscuits.

  “We need to find out what the source of the infection is,” I said.

  Kay nodded.

  “But I have to warn you that the chances of her getting pregnant and carrying the pregnancy to term are slim.”

  “I understand, Doc, but I can’t do anything without the breeder’s permission. I’ll pay for the tests myself. I’m afraid the breeder will take her back if I don’t follow his instructions. She’ll be stuck out in the shed in the cold.” Kay’s voice cracked as she spoke. Lilah scampered over to her and leaned into her side. “I don’t want her to suffer.”

  “Some of these tests are expensive,” I warned.

  “Ever since I met Lilah, I’ve been saving my money. Instead of buying lunch like Bo, I bring mine from home,” she explained. “Go ahead and do the tests. I want her to be healthy.”

  I studied Kay’s face, trying to decide if I could trust her or not. Pyometra, which means pus in the uterus, is a time bomb waiting to explode. If the patient’s cervix is closed, the infection in trapped inside, and the patient usually dies of septic shock. With an open cervix, the infection drains out through the vulva, giving the patient more time for treatment. If the infection persisted for too long, it often can cause kidney damage.

  My professors made practice sound so easy. They never addressed the moral dilemmas that come into play.

  “I need to know what is going on inside her abdomen,” I said. “If her abdomen looks OK on the X-ray and her white count is normal, I’ll let her go home with you on an antibiotic.”

  Kay spun around like she had won the lottery.

  “But it all has to be normal,” I emphasized.

  Kay nodded and hugged Lilah.

  In record time, Kim and I drew Lilah’s blood, collected a urine sample directly from her bladder and a vaginal sample for culture. We carried her back to the radiology suite for films while Allie ran an in-house CBC. For the second film, I pressed down on Lilah’s abdomen with a wooden spoon to separate the intestines from the uterus. I also scanned her abdomen with the ultrasound. Everything looked normal. So was her white count. I dispensed three doses of Clavamox, one for immediate use, tonight and tomorrow morning to insure Kay brought her back tomorrow.

  “Do you really think she’ll come back?” Kim asked me.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I think she must treat Lilah well based on how the dog acts around her, but I’m concerned about the husband and breeder.” I paused. “I can’t figure out why the breeder let Lilah go in the first place.”

  “Maybe he owes Bo money,” Kim suggested. “What a bummer.”

  “Well, I’ve got some good news to brighten our day,” I said, changing the subject. “Radar’s tests came back clean. He can leave quarantine.”

  “Yay!” Kim cheered, raising her hands above her head.

  While I worked with Lilah, the phone rang and rang with cancellations due to the approaching storm. Kim and Allie used the time to transfer Radar out of isolation. They cleaned his cage and gave him a bath before relocating him to Genny’s room. They set up the large dog crate a
t the back of the storage room against the block wall. I planned to let the kitten memorize this room first, then introduce him to the rest of the clinic. Radar sat at the front of the crate listening to the commotion around him. When everything was ready, we gathered in the room to see what he’d do first.

  “Are you ready to explore, Radar?” Kim asked as she swung open the door to his crate. Radar leaned over the threshold of the cage. He cocked his ears from left to right and sniffed the air. After 10 seconds, he placed his left front paw on the brown industrial carpet. He paused for a second before leaving the crate entirely. We high-fived each other to celebrate his first steps.

  For the next five minutes, Radar stayed close to the front of the crate, never straying more than a few feet before returning to its safety. As his confidence grew, he walked farther and farther until he reached us.

  “Good job, Radar,” I praised him. He started to purr when I petted him.

  Emboldened by his success, the kitten padded back to his cage, rubbing his cheek along the front corner. He continued to explore the room by padding out to each wall and then back to the cage. He walked with his whiskers touching the floor, sensing it and the walls through them. He took one last swing around the perimeter of the room before coming back to us for attention.

  “I think he’s got it, Dr. Nelson,” Kim observed. He rolled over on his back, exposing his soft white belly. One of the gray patches on his back extended down his side and around his back legs. Swirls of black and gray covered his entire tail. He stretched out his front and back legs until his entire body formed a large arc.

  “Let’s try a toy,” Allie suggested. Genny had a small rubber ball with a bell inside. Allie rolled it past Radar’s outstretched paws. Radar rolled onto his abdomen and followed the noise with his ears. The tabby markings on his forehead made the perfect outline of an “M” between his ears. The gray color stopped just above his eyelids.

  Allie picked up the ball and rolled it again. This time, Radar was ready for it. He jumped toward the noise, landing right on top of the ball with both front feet. He grabbed it in his teeth, shook it violently, then headed back to the crate with his prize.