Shady's Bad Day

Any good day can go south and turn bad.

Yesterday, Shady's day was already sour.

Sunday I noticed her out of the corner of my eye.  Her mouth was open and she was pawing wildly at one side of her mouth.  I stared, incredulous.  One fang was hanging  low like a vampire.  Yikes!

So I watched her, that evening and the next morning before I headed up to search for the lost dog.  Before I left, I called the vet who pulled Starr's bad teeth a couple weeks back and made the dreaded appointment.  This vet clinic is far more affordable than any I've used in the valley.  The "I'm going to die" price factor isn't there.  Sure, it's still expensive, but not hundreds upon hundreds to take a cat in to have a few teeth pulled.

I rose early yesterday, to watch the lunar eclipse.  So the night before, I was in bed by 8:00 p.m.  Instead of confining Shady, I removed all food for all cats.  I'd rather do that than listen to her howl all night, which my drama queen would have done.

Breathtaking Eclipse!

Afterwards, I confined Shady to the spare bedroom and later quickly put her into a carrier.  She began wailing.  She is good at wailing.  I tried to console her on the drive to the clinic, which takes 20 minutes.

By 10:30, the vet had already called to say she was waking up, and she'd pulled five teeth including the canine.  I would not be able to pick her up until close to 4:00 however.  Shady has only three teeth left.  The others have fallen out on their own. 

All afternoon I worked angles trying to raise money for the nonprofit to help pay for Shady's care and food and litter, flea treatment, all that. It's not cheap for all these cats.  The only donation I'd come up with was a car load of cans, donated by a local business.   I was so grateful  I thought I'd cry.  I picked them up and turned them in at Walmart, plugging them into the noisy sticky machines one by one.  Turned out to be almost $22 worth of cans!    

I am very grateful that a business would donate their cans.   

I picked Shady up and drove her home.  About three quarters of the way home she began wailing again.  Her wails start sad and poignant and drawn out, but harmonic and woeful.   Soon, they progress, upturning at the end, to a scream so full of such horror and desperation that it turns heads and people react, like something innocent is getting harmed.  I rolled up the windows.  

Once home Shady panicked in the bathroom, still loopy and wobbly from anesthesia.  I sat on the toilet and held her stroking her slowly, whispering to her softly and slowly.  She calmed.  I laid her down on some soft blankets, and tiptoed out.    I gave her the prescribed pain treatment last night.  

This morning, I was not careful and Miss Daisy was at my feet as I slipped into the bathroom and Shady was out like a bullet winding through my feet at the speed of light.  She didn't go far, turned and wailed at me, then danced lightly towards the food bowl.  I got a can out, of wet food, popped the lid and pulled it open, then jogged the whole can onto the plate by Shady.  She ate a bit, mouthing the food awkwardly around the sore spots where teeth had come out, but she was happy.  Now she's out dozing in the sun in a cat run.

Today should be a better day for Shady.  She's such a joyful funny cat, full of mischief.  She's one of my younger cats but already seven years old.

Well, today I better figure out better ways to raise money for the nonprofit.   Amongst other things!  The sun is out once again.  Indian summer in Oregon.