Coated With Fur: A Blind Cat's Love

by Kristen Nelson

“Butch listens to you for now, but sometime in the future…” I took a deep breath. “When he feels he’s ready, he will challenge you. Without obedience training, you won’t have a chance with him.” I stared at Dan. A smile creased his face, and he started to laugh.

  I walked around the exam table toward Butch. When I placed my hand on his back, I heard a low rumble in his throat. I jumped back.

  Dan laughed again, his shoulders heaving.

  “Butch, knock it off,” Dan said in a soft voice. He pulled the dog close to him. Butch’s head was almost even with Dan’s head when he was seated. The dog’s muscles bulged under his shiny black coat. During the past year, Butch’s body transformed from gangly pup to well-muscled adult. My belt wasn’t much longer than his collar. I walked back to the door, opened it and retrieved the muzzle hanging on the handle.

  “I’d like to muzzle Butch,” I said as I unfastened the buckle.

  Dan avoided making eye contact with me.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll hold him,” Dan replied with a smirk.

  “Sorry, but I’m not taking any chances. I had a Rottweiler leave his mark on my arm. I don’t want any more scars,” I said firmly. I held the blue nylon muzzle out to Dan. “Put this over his snout, snap the fastener behind his head and then tighten it,” I instructed.

  Dan reluctantly complied.

  With the muzzle in place, I performed a physical examination. Butch tolerated my touch, but growled every time I made any eye contact with him. I injected the first vaccination without incident. The rabies required two attempts. During the first try, Butch lunged at me. Dan kept him from knocking me over. For the heartworm test, Dan held Butch’s head in his lap while I drew blood from the tarsal vein on his back leg, keeping my face and hands far away from those massive teeth. Thank goodness Great Danes have large veins that are easy to hit, even with shaky hands.

  I retreated to the opposite side of the examination table, injected the blood into a purple-topped blood tube and rolled it in my hands. Dan took off the muzzle and threw it on the table.

  “Anything else, Doc?” He stood up. His flannel shirt had come un-tucked in the back. He held Butch’s leash in his hand while he tucked in his shirt. I noticed one of the back pockets in his jeans had a circular mark worn into the fabric. From the size, I guessed a can of chewing tobacco.

  “Yes,” I took a deep breath. “As you know, I am concerned about Butch’s alpha dog mentality.”

  Dan nodded and smiled at his dog.

  “When he matures, and his hormones set in, I’m worried that you won’t be able to handle him anymore. I’m afraid he will hurt you.”

  The smile disappeared from Dan’s face.

  “That’s why I recommend you neuter him ASAP.”

  Dan’s face changed from tan to red like the chameleon I saw the previous week. Veins stood out through the skin of his neck and forehead.

  “No one’s gonna neuter my dog!” he shouted. He stared at me with his eyes half their normal size. “Just because you can’t handle him…you need to improve your skills.” He stomped his foot on the ground. “C’mon, Butch, we’re out of here.” Dan opened the door and marched out. When Butch was out of the room, he slammed the door so hard the pictures on the wall shook.

  I shrugged and left the room.

  “What happened?” Kim asked as she counted pills on the pharmacy counter.

  “The client didn’t want to hear my recommendations for his pet,” I replied. “My mentor told me that until human medicine comes up with a treatment for idiots, all you can do is try. Tell the client what you know they need to hear regardless of whether they want to hear it or not.”

  “Or make them so mad they never come back,” Kim quipped. She smiled so big that I could barely see her eyes. I couldn’t help but smile as well, showing the dimples on my face.

  “That works, too. Who’s next on the hit parade?”

  Kim stared at me blankly, too young to know what I was referring to.

  “Spice has clipper burn,” Kim replied. “And it’s time to recheck blood work on Sugar. I’ll put them in the dog room in two minutes.”

  “Might want to use the cat room,” I suggested. “It will take longer than two minutes to clean up the dog room after Butch.” Kim looked at me, surprised.

  “He drools a lot.”

  Her shoulders drooped as she headed for the dog examination room with several rags and a bottle of disinfectant.

  In the lobby, Ben O’Brian sat on the blue lobby chairs under the dog breed poster, with Sugar and Spice in his lap. The two Maltese had the hair on the foreheads pulled up into ponytails with pink polka dot bows. Sugar lounged with her head resting on her front paws, tired from a day at the groomer. Spice leaned into Ben’s chest, her pupils widely dilated. When another person or animal looked at her, she hid her head in Ben’s jacket.

  While Kim scrubbed saliva off the sky blue walls of the dog room, Radar made his escape into the lobby. During appointments, we kept Radar and Genny out of the lobby to keep them safe. While we did surgery, we let them explore. Radar loved to sit in the windowsill, listening to the outside world. His thick coat kept him nice and warm even when the sun wasn’t shining.

  Radar walked out of the dog room, past the cat room, then the reception counter.

  “Yip, yip!” Spice barked, then retreated under Ben’s coat. Radar froze after hearing the unfamiliar sound. His ears moved back and forth like a radar antenna.

  “No, Spice,” Ben scolded. “Allie, I think one of your patients escaped.”

  Allie stood on her tiptoes to lean over the counter.

  “That’s Radar, one of our clinic cats,” she informed Ben. “He’s allowed in the lobby when appointments are over. Since Spice is the last one for the afternoon, it’s OK.” She sat down again, focusing her attention on the stack of lab results lying on the counter.

  Instead of heading to the window, Radar slowly walked across the linoleum floor toward the chairs. Spice stood up to keep an eye on this strange animal. She had never seen a cat before.

  When Radar reached Ben’s chair, he rubbed his chin on the wooden leg. Spice cocked her head from side to side, continuing to stare. Radar sniffed Ben’s shoes, starting with the toes and worked his way up to the laces. Radar loved to play with shoelaces. He batted them from side to side after flopping down on his belly. Spice craned her neck to keep track of this crazy cat.

  “What’s wrong, Spicey?” Ben teased, smiling broadly. “He’s just playing.”

  Radar grabbed the end of a shoelace in his teeth, twisted onto his side and tried to claw it with his back feet. He lost his balance and flipped completely over.

  “Yip, yip,” Spice barked again, waking up Sugar. Radar stopped playing when he heard Spice’s bark. He stood up, using his ears to pinpoint her location. He paused for a second before standing on his back legs, his front feet on Ben’s knee. Spice turned around and hid her head in Ben’s jacket.

  “Aren’t you a friendly guy?” Ben observed. Sugar raised her head and touched noses with Radar. Ben let Radar sniff his hand, then stroked the kitten’s head. After a minute of petting, Radar jumped onto the chair next to Ben.

  Radar was the same size as Sugar, the bigger of the two Maltese. Spice peeked, then tried to climb up onto Ben’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her little body, kissed her on the forehead and returned the anxious dog to his lap.

  “Why does he keep his eyes closed all the time?” Ben asked Allie.

  “Because he’s blind,” she answered in a matter-of-fact voice. “He was born without eyeballs.”

  Ben gasped, staring at Radar.

  “No eyes!” he exclaimed. “But how does he get around?”

  “Just fine, as you can see,” Allie replied without looking up. She was used to fielding questions about our new clinic cat. “Radar has memorized the entire clinic.”

  “Poor little fella,” Ben exclaimed as he stroked Radar’s chin. “And so friendly. I’ve never met such a friendly cat.�
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  “Don’t feel sorry for Radar,” Allie advised. “He gets into just as much trouble as a sighted cat. He loves being a clinic cat and interacting with all the people. He only complains when he’s hungry.”

  I walked into the lobby carrying another stack of records for Allie.

  “More presents for you.”

  She blew a strand of hair out of her face.

  “Hello, Ben,” I greeted him. “I see you met Radar.”

  “Yes, he’s such a friendly guy,” Ben said. “I can’t believe he’s blind. How did you get him?”

  “The breeder couldn’t sell a blind cat, so she requested euthanasia. But he seemed like such a nice kitten that I offered to adopt him instead. The breeder stops by to check on him all the time. I think she wishes she had kept him.”

  Kim appeared next to me, holding Sugar and Spice’s chart.

  “What kind of blood work do you want on Sugar?” she asked.

  “A CBC with platelet count and a superchem. Sugar gave us a scare last year when she developed autoimmune hemolytic anemia. It took two blood transfusions and a splenectomy to save her.”

  “I thought she was a goner,” Ben added. “But she’s a tough old girl.”

  “And she really loves you, Ben,” I said. “I think that’s what pulled her through.” Ben’s eyes instantly teared up. He looked down at Sugar and smiled. Sugar sat up, licked his chin and wagged her tail.

  “I haven’t seen you since the last time we checked Sugar’s blood,” I said, changing the subject. “How is everything?”

  Ben cleared his throat, “Great, both of my girls have been very healthy, and I’ve been brushing their teeth like you showed me. But now I have to find a new groomer,” he paused. “Spice has a big red mark on her hip.”

  “Well, when you combine her quickness with her nervousness, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before. Imagine how much more difficult it is to trim Spice versus Sugar who just sits there,” I reminded Ben. He nodded and hugged Spice. “How did the groomer handle it?”

  “She felt bad,” he answered. “She called me at work right when it happened and offered to bring her in as well as pay for everything.”

  “Well, maybe we should think about giving Spice something to calm her down to prevent any more accidents,” I suggested.

  Ben looked away with a frown.

  “Well, just something to think about,” I said.

  Kim walked around the reception counter, opened the door to the cat room and walked over to the scale.

  “I’ll see you in a minute, Ben,” I told him.

  Ben stood up with both of his dogs wrapped in his arms. I watched Kim weigh each dog, then escort the family into the cat room. Seeing the strong bond between Ben, Sugar and Spice reminded me why I became a veterinarian — to promote stronger relationships between humans and animals. Most of the clients were wonderful people who loved their pets and would do anything for them. I felt honored to be trusted with caring for their beloved companions. Now if I could just get rid of those remaining few!

  Chapter 27

  Radar's Surgery

  Tuesdays and Thursdays are the best,” I thought as I drove to the clinic at 11:30 a.m. During my first year of practice at my clinic, I found that Tuesday and Thursday mornings were quiet. The appointment book had few slots filled before 2, and the phone didn’t ring much before noon.

  Since Allie, Kim and I were sitting around with little to do, I decided to try opening the clinic at 8 a.m. but not take any appointments until 1 p.m. This gave me two mornings a week to run errands, see friends, and most importantly, catch up on sleep. The break gave Allie and Kim time to manage the inventory, check on patients and perform maintenance on all the equipment.

  When I drove into the parking lot, I looked to see if Allie was behind the counter. If she was, it meant she had finished all of her chores and would be in a great mood. If she wasn’t, it meant dealing with a crabby technician until we caught up. I stared at the front window only to see a reflection of my car. The sunlight made it impossible to see inside even with the clinic light on. I grabbed my bag and hurried across the parking lot, hoping for the best.

  “Allie,” I called out when I saw an empty chair behind the counter. “Where are you?”

  “Right here,” she answered, startling me. I turned to see her holding a green watering can over the Norfolk pine. She wore green scrubs over a white turtleneck with a matching green headband. Suddenly, the hair on her shoulder parted, exposing a little tan beak. Romeo stared at me for 10 seconds before ducking back beneath Allie’s hair.

  “What can I do to help?” I asked as I removed my gloves.

  “We’re in pretty good shape,” Allie said. “But since you still have your coat on, would you mind taking out the trash? It’s all bagged and sitting in radiology.” I nodded and headed to my office to drop off my bag and several sets of clean scrubs. Genny napped on the desk chair while Radar prowled around the main room.

  “Meow, meow,” he cried when he heard me. He ran inside the office and rubbed his body against my black winter boots. “Meow, meow.”

  “Hello, Radar. Did you miss me?” I rubbed his head. He flipped over on his back, exposing his crystal white tummy. I rubbed him for a minute before heading back to radiology to deal with the garbage. When I returned, Radar stood by the door to his room, rubbing on the doorjamb.

  “Meow, meow,” he cried again. When I stopped to pet him, he ran into the room and stood in front of his empty food bowl.

  “And I thought you missed me,” I teased the hungry boy. “Hang on, and I’ll get you some food.” I walked to the fridge, opened the door and grabbed a can of cat food.

  “Don’t do that,” Allie warned from the front desk. “Radar is fasting for surgery today. I picked up his food last night and then gave Genny breakfast in your office.”

  “No, his surgery is next Tuesday,” I replied. “Today is already booked with a name I didn’t recognize. It was hard to read, but I think the name is J. T. Kirk.”

  Allie started laughing.

  “Yes, as in James T. Kirk, commander of the Starship Enterprise. I didn’t want a repeat of last year when Steve tried to hold Genny after her spay. So I made up a name and put Radar on the schedule for next week to fool Steve.”

  I laughed and clapped my hands.

  “Well done, Allie,” I said, continuing to clap. “That was brilliantly handled.”

  Radar started crying again. “Sorry, Radar, you can eat tonight if you feel like it.”

  “If you want to write up his anesthesia plan, I’ll pull up the meds so we can premed him as soon as Kim returns,” Allie said. “I want to make sure you have plenty of time to fix his eyes as well as neuter him.”

  “Where is Kim?” I asked, surprised by her absence.

  “At school,” Allie replied as she put away the watering can. “Remember, we take turns teaching third graders about animal care the first Tuesday of each month. The kids had an assembly this morning so their teacher moved our session from 9:30 to 10:30.” Allie pushed her hair back and placed her finger in front of Romeo. The little lovebird started to raise his right leg, then put it down and bit her finger.

  “Ouch!” Allie said. “What is wrong with you, Romeo? You’ve gotten so bad lately.”

  “Let me help you.” I held my finger up toward Romeo and said, “Step up!” The green bird assumed the attack position with spread winds and open beak. “You stinker,” I said as I withdrew my finger. Romeo ran to the other side of Allie’s neck and peeked at me from under her chin. “Hold still, Allie. Step up,” I said sternly and swept my finger into his body. The bird had to step up or fall down. Romeo chose to step up without biting me. I quickly returned him to his cage.

  When Kim returned, Allie held Radar while Kim delivered his “pokey butt.” They placed him in a cage with his favorite bed. Fifteen minutes later, he was one relaxed dude who had trouble walking a straight line. While I hovered in the background, Allie placed an IV ca
theter and gave him a bolus of fluids. When the level of saline reached the blue line Allie drew on the bag, and Kim transferred Radar back to the treatment table. I inserted a syringe of an injectable anesthetic to the injection portal.

  “Sleep well, Radar,” I said as I pushed the plunger. Radar sucked in a large breath and sank into Kim’s arms. Kim held his head while I placed a tube down his windpipe. Soon he slept blissfully while oxygen and isoflurane flowed into his lungs. Kim shaved the hair from around his eye sockets while Allie monitored his vital signs. The bare area made him look like a raccoon with a white mask. Kim finished by trimming the hair from his rear end.

  She carried him into the operating room while Allie followed with the anesthesia machine. They placed him on his tummy with a towel under his head. I ran one strip of medical tape over his nose and another behind his ears to secure his head. Kim scrubbed his face while I scrubbed for surgery.

  Anopthalmia can vary greatly from case to case. Some patients have absolutely nothing inside the eye socket while others have all the muscles, tear glands and ducts associated with a normal eye. Radar’s condition was somewhere in the middle. The muscles used to move the eyeball were abnormal, but his tear glands functioned well. They secreted copious amounts of fluid that accumulated in the empty socket, unable to reach the openings to the tear ducts. When Radar bent down to smell the ground or eat, fluid ran out the front of the sockets. The chronic moisture created a perfect environment for yeast and bacteria.

  The cat developed dermatitis on his face. He scratched his face with his back feet until he drew blood. Then he switched to rubbing on anything he could find, leaving a brown streak behind. Worst of all, he smelled like a dog with nasty ears.

  I covered Radar’s face with drapes until only his eyes showed in the surgical field. With a retractor in place to hold his eyelids open, I explored the left socket. In the back, I found a rudimentary eyeball the size of a small bead. I removed it along with all the tear glands, just to be safe. Next, I trimmed the edges from his upper and lower lids, removing the mucous membranes to reach the subcutaneous tissue below. Two layers of suture created a permanent seal for his eyelids.