Coated With Fur: A Blind Cat's Love

by Kristen Nelson

  “Wow,” Kim remarked. “He knows the room already.”

  “He’s a really smart cat,” Allie added.

  “Yes, I think he is smart,” I concurred.

  “You don’t look too excited about that, Dr. Nelson. Why?” Allie asked.

  “You know what I tell people with smart animals,” I said.

  Kim and Allie looked at me blankly.

  “Congratulations, you have a smart pet who will amaze you.” I paused to let my words sink in. “Condolences, you have a smart pet who is going to get into a lot of trouble.” I walked over to the crate and stroked the fur on his head before closing the door. “Good job today, Radar. Sleep well until tomorrow. You have a big clinic to explore.”

  By 3:30 p.m., all of the appointments had rescheduled for another day. I sent Allie home first since she had the longest drive. She pulled out of the parking lot onto the frontage road behind a snowplow. Kim hustled around the clinic, giving Genny, Radar and the birds extra food and water.

  She appeared at the door to my office at 4 p.m. “Is there anything else you need, Dr. Nelson?”

  I looked up from the chart on my lap and shook my head.

  “Then I’m going to take off before the roads get too bad.”

  “Have a great weekend,” I said. “Think of us slaving away tomorrow morning while you’re sleeping in.”

  “Good night, Dr. Nelson,” Kim said. “See you on Monday.”

  A minute later, the doorbell chimed. I returned my attention to the record and began to write. Five minutes later, I tossed it into the done pile and pulled another.

  “Ding, ding,” the doorbell rang again. I ignored it, thinking Kim must have forgotten something.

  “Hello, Dr. Nelson,” a women called from the lobby. “Are you here? Is anyone here?” I jumped up from the desk and ran up front. Nicole and Jimmy stood by the counter.

  “What are you two doing here?” I blurted out, surprised to see them again.

  “We came to visit Iggy,” Jimmy replied. “How is he?”

  “Much better,” I said with a smile, trying to recover. “He stopped twitching and ate his vegetables.”

  Jimmy jumped into the air and threw his arms around Nicole’s waist. She bent down to return the hug.

  “Would you like to see him?”

  Jimmy looked up at his mother, still hugging her. She smiled and nodded.

  “Please follow me,” I instructed, holding open the door into the pharmacy/lab area. Jimmy ran around the counter, his mother following. When we reached the treatment room, Jimmy pushed ahead of me to the incubator.

  He pressed his face against the glass and whispered, “Iggy, Iggy.” The iguana continued to sleep under the basking light, oblivious to everything. Jimmy’s face turned red and tears formed in his eyes. “Is he dead?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied. “He’s sleeping.” When I opened the lid on the incubator, Iggy opened his eyes and started to lick the air.

  Jimmy squealed with delight. I scooped him up and deposited the iguana into his master’s outstretched hands. Jimmy hugged him tightly.

  “Iggy, I was so worried,” the child whispered. He petted Iggy’s head before continuing. “Mom and I are going to the store right away. We’re going to get you everything you need.”

  I listened, hoping this wasn’t a childhood fantasy.

  “Lights, food bowls, even a place to swim. It’s going to be great,” he continued.

  I looked at Nicole, feeling like I was in a dream. She smiled at me, then placed her hands on Jimmy’s shoulders.

  “Yes, we need detailed instructions on how to take care of an iguana,” she confirmed. “We want to make sure Iggy doesn’t get sick again.”

  “That’s great,” I stammered. “I’ve got a handout for you up front.”

  Jimmy turned to leave, still holding onto Iggy.

  “Whoa, Iggy’s not ready to go home yet,” I told him.

  He froze, then slowly turned to face me.

  “He needs to stay with me for a little longer.” I extended my hands toward the child. “He needs to rest and get his strength back.”

  Jimmy hugged Iggy once more before handing him over. I returned the lizard to his place under the basking light. When I turned around, Nicole stood directly in front of me.

  “Dr. Nelson.” She cleared her throat. “Dr. Nelson, I want to thank you for everything that you have done for Iggy, Jimmy and me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I owe…” she stopped abruptly.

  “I’m glad I could help, Nicole.” I hugged her briefly before handing her a tissue. “Now, let’s go get that handout. You two have some shopping to do.”

  Chapter 25

  Lilah the German Shepherd

  Allie zoomed into the parking lot, parked her car on the far side and ran to the front door. The large piles of snow from the big storm three-and-a-half weeks ago dwarfed her car. She wore her customary black leather jacket over her scrubs. The thin cotton material provided little protection from the bitter February cold. She tried to place the clinic key in the lock but couldn’t with her thick leather gloves. She took off the right glove and pinned it under her arm to open the door. Once inside the warm clinic, she held her hand to her mouth and blew on her fingers. They throbbed from touching the cold metal handle.

  “Meow, meow!” Genny and Radar cried as soon as they heard her.

  “Just a minute, guys,” she said as she walked through the pharmacy/lab to her locker by the bathroom. “I’ll let you out as soon as I put my stuff away.” A minute later, she opened the heavy wood door. Genny scampered out into the main room, happy to be free of night quarters. Radar sat patiently at the front of the giant dog crate. Genny headed into the treatment room to see if there were any animals she could torment.

  Allie opened the crate door, allowing Radar out as well. He rubbed on Allie’s red scrubs, leaving white and gray fur. The static electricity caused by the dry winter air glued the fur to the fabric. Allie stroked his face for a minute before starting the morning clinic chores.

  “Hello bird,” Bongo said in a mechanical voice. “How are youuuuuuu?”

  Allie pulled the covers off all the cages, starting with Windsor and finishing with Romeo. Radar followed her, stopping to sniff the carpet every few feet. When he reached the cabinets, he stood on his back legs, stretching his front legs upward. His nose twitched at a feverish rate. After 30 seconds of sniffing, he sat down, then sprang onto the counter directly opposite the birds.

  “Radar!” Allie gasped. “How in the world did you know you could jump up there?” He sat on the edge of the counter between the microwave and the refrigerator, cocking his head from side to side. “That’s too dangerous for you.” She put him back on the floor and collected all the bird food bowls. When she turned her back to the counter, Radar jumped up there again. “You stinker,” she said, shaking her head. She lined the bowls up next to Radar and filled them with an assortment of vegetables cut to the perfect size for each bird.

  “Here you go, guys,” she said, hanging the bowls back in the cages. Windsor jumped head first into the bowl. Two seconds later, he looked up with a piece of corn stuck to the side of his beak. He shook his head, sending the kernel flying through the air onto the floor. Radar jumped down, sniffed it once, then ate it. “Radar, don’t eat that,” Allie scolded. Radar looked up at Allie, then started sniffing the floor for more.

  As a kitten, Radar ate anything and everything to fuel his growth. He looked like a teenage boy with huge feet that didn’t fit his body. His face started to lengthen out a little from the perfectly round one he had when I first saw him. The only thing that didn’t grow was his tail. It was short for a cat of his size.

  Allie retrieved Radar’s and Genny’s food bowls from their room and filled each with a mix of canned and dry food. Radar ran back into the night room, purring loudly. He sat in front of the crate, waiting for his breakfast. Genny appeared at the doorway, rubbing her body against the doorjambs.

 
Allie placed Genny’s bowl on the mat and Radar’s inside the crate. Radar jumped over the three-inch threshold, headfirst into the bowl. He grabbed large junks of food, swallowing them whole. Genny observed him from the doorway, then hobbled over to her bowl. She rested her stump on the carpeting while she daintily ate her food. Genny licked her lips between bites. She ate most of the canned food, then retreated to the office to groom. Allie let Radar finish Genny’s bowl as well.

  Next, Allie headed into the treatment room to care for the hospitalized patients. Two cats rubbed on the bars of their cages, purring loudly. Ying, the black cat with golden eyes, had made a mess of his cage. He flipped over his litter pan during the night, covering the floor in front of his cage with pieces of clay. He also tipped his water bowl, soaking the towel Kim gave him for a bed. Yang, his sister, kept her cage in perfect condition. Her glossy white coat reminded me of fine china. Allie transferred Ying to a new cage with a fresh litter box on the opposite side of Yang.

  “Meow, meow!” he cried when Allie put him in the new cage.

  “I’ll feed you as soon as I clean up your mess,” she replied, rubbing his chin through the bars. “You are a bad boy.” Allie swept the floor, threw his towel in the dirty laundry and his newspapers into the trash before disinfecting the cage. With order restored, she fed the siblings and headed back to the reception desk, happy there weren’t any dogs to walk in the bitter cold.

  She read the appointment book for a few seconds, then walked to the bookshelves that lined the back wall of the reception area. Last year, all the records fit on one section of shelves. Now they covered two. As she started to pull records for each appointment, the phone rang.

  “Minnesota Vet,” she started to say.

  “Chopper has been attacked by a dog,” Beth Burnett screamed into the phone. “He’s bleeding.”

  “Bring him right in,” Allie replied. Beth hung up without saying goodbye. Allie quickly dialed my pager number and hung up. As she waited, she heard a car drive into the parking lot. Allie placed her hands on the frosted window to clear a spot. She peeked through the window in time to see me get out of my car and walk to the clinic.

  “Wow, it’s cold today,” I said as I entered the building. “What are you doing, Allie? I thought Kim had the early shift today.”

  “We switched,” she replied. “Chopper was attacked by a dog. Beth is on her way.”

  “I hope it wasn’t Harley who attacked him,” I said, rubbing my boots on the entry rug.

  Allie shrugged. “I’ll set up in back.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Beth and Larry walked into the clinic in their work clothes. Both wore full-length, black wool coats over business suits. Larry carried Chopper wrapped in a blanket decorated with motorcycles. A small amount of blood stained the blanket next to Chopper’s head.

  “Come with me,” Allie instructed. She led them through the cat room and pharmacy/lab to the treatment room.

  “Good morning,” I greeted them. “Please put Chopper on the table.” Chopper looked at us through widely dilated pupils. His whole body quaked with fear. “It’s OK, Chopper, no one is going to hurt you,” I reassured him.

  Allie held his head while I lifted his lip to check his color. His mucous membranes were nice and pink, but he had a lot of blood-tinged saliva in his mouth. I slid the bell of my stethoscope inside the blanket until I reached his chest. I listened and listened but only heard static caused by the shivering. I let go of the bell of the stethoscope, using my fingers to feel his pulse.

  “I can’t hear his heart because of the shivering,” I announced to his anxious parents. “But his color is great, and his pulse feels strong.” I replaced the stethoscope around my neck. “What happened?”

  “I took the boys out one more time before leaving for work,” Larry replied. “All of a sudden, this big dog came around the side of our house. He bit Chopper on his back, picked him up and started to shake him.” Larry paused to catch his breath. “I screamed and ran toward the dog. When he saw me, he dropped Chopper and took off.”

  “We were lucky the dog dropped him,” I said. “I’ve had other patients that were never seen again.” Allie and I unwrapped Chopper to get a better look at him. Opening his mouth, I noticed a bruised area on the tip of his tongue. Blood oozed slowly from the center. “It looks like Chopper bit his tongue,” I observed. “See the bruised area on the tip?”

  Beth and Larry nodded.

  “It’s not too bad, though.” I continued the physical by feeling his neck, chest, abdomen and back legs. On each side of his back, I found two deep puncture wounds through the skin. They were two inches apart and three inches from his spine. Together they formed a rectangle, the perfect impression of four large canine teeth.

  “Wow, it was a big dog,” Allie said of the fang marks. Larry and Beth looked at their dog blankly, not comprehending the situation.

  “See these marks?” I pointed at Chopper’s back. “These are tooth marks.”

  Beth clapped her hand over her mouth as Larry winced. “During a bite, the skin can be torn away from the muscle below. I’ll probe each one of these wounds to see if that happened. If it did, Chopper will need drains to make sure the bacteria and blood drain out.”

  Beth and Larry nodded.

  “We’ll also take X-rays of his chest and abdomen to look for internal damage. But I want to give him some medicine to control the pain first and calm him down.”

  “How long will all of this take?” Larry asked looking at his watch.

  “Chopper needs to stay with us today,” I informed them. “If all goes well, you can take him home tonight.” Beth leaned against the table, and looked directly into Chopper’s eyes. She kissed him on the forehead. When Chopper smelled her perfume, he stopped shaking for a minute and licked the side of her face.

  “Be a good boy, Chopper,” Larry said, joining his wife by the table. “We’ll be back to get you soon.” He patted Chopper’s head, then put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Come on, Honey. Let’s get out of Dr. Nelson’s hair. If we hurry, we can still make it to work on time.”

  Allie wrapped the blanket around Chopper again to comfort the frightened dog. She pulled him close to her body and stroked his head while I gave him two injections, a strong antibiotic and analgesic. Within minutes, he started to relax. We took X-rays before addressing the wounds.

  “Do you want to clip or hold?” I asked.

  “I’ll clip,” Allie answered. I passed Allie the clipper from my side of the table. Chopper jumped when he heard the clipper buzzing. “You’re OK, Chopper,” she whispered. She let him listen to the noise for a few seconds before bringing the instrument closer to his body. When the blade touched his back, he flinched but didn’t try to escape. Allie clipped around all of the puncture wounds, pushing the hair away from the openings in his skin. With the black hair gone, we saw large areas of bruising.

  “Is that good enough, or do you want me to square it up?” she asked while brushing hair out of the blade.

  “Let me probe it first to see if these wounds undermine,” I replied.

  Allie put down the clipper, put on a pair of gloves and started to clean. One by one, she scrubbed each wound with a gauze pad soaked in chlorhexadine. When the blue film turned brown from blood, she threw it in the trash and retrieved a new one from a metal canister. Chopper started to sway about halfway through the cleaning. I guided his rump down to the table, then pushed his front legs out in front of him until he laid on the table. He rested his head on my hand while Allie continued to clean.

  Allie stepped back to survey her work. She pushed her glasses up on her nose with the back of her hand, keeping her soapy fingers away from her face. “Good?” she asked.

  “Good,” I responded. She pulled her gloves off inside out and threw them in the trash. I opened a package of sterile cotton swabs and dipped them in antiseptic. “Ready?” I asked holding a swab over the first wound.

  Allie tightened her grip on Chopper and nodded
.

  I pushed the swab into the round puncture wound closest to me. The tip went straight in half an inch but did not undermine. I repeated the procedure with the other wounds with the same results. None of the punctures undermined.

  “Wow, he’s one lucky dog,” Allie commented. “I would have bet a hundred bucks he needed drains.”

  “Me too. But there was no gas under the skin on the films, and all his internal organs looked good, so I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised.”

  “I still don’t believe it,” Allie replied. “Are you sure you pushed hard enough?” She winked at me and laughed.

  “Yes,” I said, shaking my head. “No back-seat vetting allowed.” I tied an e-collar on Chopper to prevent him from licking the wounds. Allie placed him in the larger bottom cage under Ying and Yang with a new blanket while she soaked his motorcycle blanket in cold water to remove the bloodstains. She placed a bowl of water within easy reach of his bed. As she put another blanket over his body, Ying reached through the bars and tapped Allie’s head with his front left paw. When she didn’t respond, he tapped her again and meowed. Allie smiled and petted the mischievous cat before heading up front.

  Vaccinations and recheck examinations filled the first two hours of appointments. At 11 a.m., Phyllis and Nate Dufner entered the clinic, carrying a basket full of Norwegian elkhound puppies. Willy hovered nearby, protecting her babies. She surveyed the lobby, looking for potential threats. She growled at a carrier resting on the counter after spotting a cat inside. Allie ushered the family into the cat room to calm the nervous mom.

  Once inside, Nate held the basket two feet off the ground. Willy pushed the blanket over to one side, nosing her pups. She licked each and every one to make sure they were all OK.

  Kim and I entered the room sporting surgical gowns over our clothes to protect the three-day old pups.

  “Congratulations!” I said while putting on some gloves. “How did the whelping go?”