I know, I know, you probably think I saw him at the grocery store buying bananas while humming You Ain’t Nothin’ but a Hound Dog. Well, you’re wrong. I’m not talking about The King. I’m talking about my cat, Elvis. Beautiful with his distinct markings…stretching out next to my leg in bed at night…racing through the backyard and into the cat door at the speed of light…slapping around a fake mouse just for fun…daredevil who climbs on the roof just because he can…that’s Elvis. It’s raining today; so Elvis is stuck inside sitting on the window ledge watching the raindrops fall; and dreaming of all the adventures he will have when the rain stops. I guess that doesn’t seem so unusual for a cat; but you see, Elvis isn’t supposed to be here.
A couple of years ago on a perfectly normal Thursday, Elvis ran inside and hid under the bed. My fiancé, Bruce and I recognized immediately that something was wrong. Elvis had no visible wounds; but we knew he was badly hurt. We rushed him to our vet’s office where we stood in the examination room sadly listening to her explain that he had sustained a spinal cord injury at the base of his tail. She continued to explain what we could expect IF he survived. None of her words mattered. The look on her face said it all. Bruce and I looked at each other not wanting to be faced with the most difficult decision any pet owner ever has to make. Finally, someone had to speak. I heard myself saying, “Let’s give him until Monday”. Bruce agreed that was a good idea; and our vet did too even though I’m not sure she did wholeheartedly. Elvis was hospitalized overnight with hopes that he would be much better on our return.
He wasn’t. He could barely walk; and his tail just hung limp…dragging behind him the way I felt. We were told we could take him home; and keep him medicated and quiet. Also, our vet explained his bladder had to be “expressed”. I’m sure at least some of you are like I was, ignorant of what that meant. Simply put, it is just squeezing his bladder until he pees. Sounds easy, huh? It’s not…at least until you get the hang of it. The vet tried to show me how to do it. I couldn’t. She said if I couldn’t do it at home, that we could bring him back to the office. So, the next day and the day after that we drove poor Elvis with his crooked walk and limp tail to the vet to get his bladder squeezed. On this third trip, the vet’s assistant expressed his bladder; and attempted once again to show me how to do it. Finally, a light bulb went off in my head; and it happened. I breathed a sigh of relief that Elvis wouldn’t have to suffer the car trips any more than necessary.
On Monday, we entered the vet’s office with a sense of dread. We felt there had been some improvement; but we weren’t sure if Elvis really was improved. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. The vet examined him carefully; and then her face kinda’ lit up. She said he still had a long way to go; but just maybe he would be okay. I was ecstatic! And determined! If there was any chance for Elvis to be okay, I would do whatever it took. In the next few weeks, Elvis was the focus of my life. I lifted him into the litter box, expressed his bladder, lifted him onto the bed, administered his medication, lifted him off the bed, carried him to his food dish, lifted him onto my desk so he could look out the window, lifted him into the litter box, expressed his bladder, administered his medication…you get the picture. This went on for almost a month; and then the vet said he needed surgery to remove his tail in order to have a chance of full recovery. The surgery went well; and Elvis came home without his tail. The lifting, administering, carrying, and expressing continued. Without a tail Elvis struggled slightly with balance issues. With each passing day Elvis began walking a little straighter.
Sometimes we experience a moment when we just KNOW something. That moment happened one day when I had lifted Elvis into the litter box to express his bladder. I had already expressed some urine; and was about to give his bladder one more squeeze. Elvis turned; and looked at me. And then it happened. He yowled his displeasure. I KNEW Elvis would be Elvis again. He was fighting, just like me. A few days later Elvis urinated without help. Bruce and I felt like having a party; but wondered who we would invite. Instead we just danced around our laundry room like idiots. That seems like long ago. Now, Elvis races through our backyard; and trots around on the roof at night like nothing ever happened. I listen to his footsteps and smile; and realize what pulled him through. It wasn’t me at all. It was his love of life.
