Issue Autopsy

The end of week happy story. After all, everyone needs a smile.

Frankie the Miracle Cat

There are dog people and there are cat people. Cat owners are staunchly cat and sometimes anti-dog. Comments like, "My cat is smarter than a dog and can take care of herself. I don't need to spend as much time caring for her as you do taking care of your dumb dog." Dog people are, well...dogmatic, "My dog is interactive, kind and smart. You don't see any helper cats out there." Now anyone who knows my wife, myself and our three dogs understands we are both animal and dog people. Definitely dog people.

It was a morning cold, dark and wet, a typical season changing October day with rain, sleet, and the occasional snow flake portending winter's arrival. The type of day where it is better staying in than going out. Work forced my wife out in this miserable weather. She departed for work and as routine I watched for the vehicle exiting our driveway to the road. Not seeing that mundane, yet essential event my phone lit up indicating her incoming call. "Will you come out here?" she queried. Certainly not surprised and by now conditioned to so many unplanned events I scurried outside. 

Unsure of the situation I popped out the garage door and rounded the corner quickly. My wife stood halfway between the car and me with a small light colored object in both hands. "She was under the car and followed me. Can you take her?" The fuzzball was a kitten. With no choice, I replied the only way possible, a simple, "Yes." I put the kitten down only to witness her scramble after my wife walking back to her car. Running after the little dynamo I scooped her up, commenting, "She seems to have bonded to you." My wife smiled, "I'm not sure what we should do with her." Translation: "Think we might keep her?"

"I'm in trouble. I know what happens next," I thought anticipating another rescue animal. "Let's see what happens and I will take her to the shelter later if she is still around."

The kitten's boney body easily fit into my two hands. Clearly she needed food so I placed her outside the back door, retrieved some dog food, and fed her (I know, dog food, but I remain fiercely protective of my sardines to this day.). By that time another kitten, same type coloring but slightly larger arrived for the handout. I placed the food for their eager appetites and went inside planning to recheck on them in fifteen or so minutes. After a short time I rechecked the kittens. They were gone. Honestly, I was not too upset. What would we do with a cat and three dogs including one that kills cats on sight (She has good reason but that is another story.)? Plus there were multiple out buildings including an old barn. "Plenty of shelter," I reasoned. 

After an hour my conscience tap danced on my reason. I felt guilty. My wife was under the premise I would take this animal to the shelter and now I couldn't find the kitten. The weather changed for the worse as a biting wind added to the cold, damp day when I went outside looking for the kitten first circling the house slowly, then the barn, then some of the other buildings. No luck. Wilbur Bud our chocolate lab who has a great nose accompanied me as I repeated this process four times that day with the same results. I even added canine reinforcement with KT our other chocolate lab who can retrieve admirably also. Each time we came up empty my conscience stomped my rationale hard, "When you have a chance to do something good or helpful, don't wait." 

The arrival of my wife that Friday evening and the day's cat search recap left us both scratching our heads as to the kitten's whereabouts. Bringing in the dogs prior to bedtime, my wife ventured onto the back deck. All three dogs entered first then she followed with the kitten in her arms. "Where did you find her"? I asked as surprised as she with this development. "She walked up the steps when I was calling the dogs," she held the purring kitten proudly. We were both smitten with this sweet little rascal spurring our diligent work making her a box to sleep and stay warm in the garage where we could assure her safety. "What do we feed her?" I asked. "We have milk and can get food in the morning," my wife answered. 

Next day we purchased cat rudiments such as food, litter box, and litter. As we set up the litter box the seminal dog person question emerged, "How do they know to use this?" asked my wife. In typical "I'm not concerned" style I answered, "I don't know, they just do. We'll set it in the bathroom and see what happens. Easy clean up if I'm wrong." Not finished she asked, "What do we name her?" My solution was quick, "Look at her blue eyes. Old Blue Eyes. Let's call her Frankie." 

Just when we thought it was clear sailing we discovered Frankie harbored worms and not the kind you fish with. She also had a chunk out of her right front paw and no claw at that toe, another smaller piece from her nose, emaciated, and now oozing sero-sanguinous fluid from the corners of her mouth where small hematomas newly emerged. Initially we attributed this drainage to a lost tooth and opted for a "wait and see" strategy. We spent another nasty, wet fall day inside taking turns holding Frankie incorporating her into the "pack". The dogs were fine, even Sophia the cat killer. Always intuitive, she seemed to sense Frankie's infirmity, or maybe she didn't loath cats anymore, or maybe she smelled our scent on the animal and felt our angst. 

Zero dark thirty Sunday morning and the sero-sanguinous drainage was now a dark, bloody, five or six cubic centimeter non-coagulated puddle in front of Frankie's cat bed in the bathroom. She lay listless, not purring when touched. "She's bleeding now," my frustrated wife stated. "She's dying," I softly lamented. My wife was already finding the emergency vet as I peered at her. Amazing how fast she can work an iPhone. She trundled the cat, I warmed the truck and we headed off praying this little animal, this kitten we fell in love with so quickly, would live. 

We knew Frankie had a coagulopathy, a blood clotting disorder. But what caused this? Apparently she ingested one of the older anticoagulant rat poisons placed many moons ago either by eating an animal that ingested that compound or eating the poison bait itself. "So what are our choices with her care?" my wife asked the vet. "Well her CBC is borderline transfusion need. It's a bit tenuous now. We should keep her. How far do You want us to go?" Knowing this type situation intimately we both answered, "No heroics. What is reasonable and prudent." Needless to say Frankie stayed at the emergency animal hospital. where the vet techs dropper fed her hourly racing to fluid replace the animal and keep up with the blood loss. Vitamin K every four hours was given to reverse the anticoagulant similar to what we do with people on coumadin who require reversal. "You may call me anytime to see how she is doing," the vet offered. 

What an ugly ride home. "It will be miraculous if she lives," I prepped my wife. "Miracles happen," she confidently retorted. We waited. We worried. We prayed for the little bugger. How did she wiggle her way into our lives so quickly? She showed up at our door, we took her in and assumed responsibility for her care. It was expensive (Don't ask.), impractical, and downright inconvenient. Yet here we were, absolutely concerned for this critter. That afternoon we called the vet for an update. The situation remained bleak. A second call that evening brought a slight momentum turn in Frankie's life battle. The instructions were to pick her up tomorrow morning as there was nothing more the vet could do. By 6:30 am the next morning she looked a bit better, was no longer exsanguinating from her mouth and was not as listless as twenty-four hours prior. I carefully carried Frankie to the car in her cat bed with instructions for more vitamin K administration and also checking her stools for evidence her deworming succeeded. 

Today Old Blue Eyes thrives with our pooches. Actually, she acts rather canine like. Frankie comes when called by name. When the dogs are commanded to sit as a group she will lie down near them. She despises being alone and seeks out human companionship, is quite verbal and loves a belly rub. She is gentle, sweet, entertaining. The dogs and she get along famously. Sophia is known to sniff at her, tail wagging, enjoying her little sister. Wilbur Bud and she are fast friends while KT wonders what the fuss is about. My wife and I now are dog and cat people. We also decided Frankie was truly our 'Miracle Cat" and Christmas gift this year. After all, one miracle so many centuries past deserves another one today.