The Story of Bodhi Blue
So my laptop is officially dead until I can take it in to be fixed. And since I have access to a computer today I decided to tell the possibly long, hopefully not too long, story of my 3-legged cat.
It was a Thursday afternoon. I was walking to the bathroom by the pool. While inside the bathroom I heard a kitten yelling outside. I figured it was one of the local strays, but decided to check it out. I came out of the bathroom and saw a little cat sitting on the edge of the above ground pool, near the ladder. At first I was curious because he was yelling so loud and looked very cute (sort of a tabby siamese with bright blue eyes). As I got closer to him I realized something was wrong. At first I thought his leg was broken and mangled, but then I realized there was no leg there. Now, there was no bleeding, and the kitten was wearing a collar, so I went to find my friend to see if he knew who's cat it was and what the story with it was.
He didn't know the cat, but he picked it up and we looked at the missing leg and realized that it was sort of recent and untreated. So my friend went next door to the vet tech's house and she came over. While he was headed over there, the kitten leaped off the pool and ran to me. I offered him water and a bit of dog food (all I had at that moment). We established that it was what it was and that the kitten didn't appear in imminent danger of death.
The thing is, I had no money at that point in time. I had to work all weekend and was expecting to be paid on Monday. Not a convenient time for a seriously injured kitten to come into my life. That weekend was long. Horribly long. I quickly realized that if I took the kitten to a shelter he would be euthanized. And this damn cat wanted to live. I couldn't do that to him. Nor did I have money for surgeries and all that either. His vitals were good and stable and he was eating voraciously, so I decided to get through the weekend and go from there.
He insisted on sleeping in my bed with me, which was disturbing. After the first night his wound began to ooze and smell and there was a lot of swelling. I realized that it had been abscessing inside, and the gentle lavage we did to the wound had allowed it to begin to drain. I provided supportive care using laser therapy on the wound and administering homeopathics for pain and musculo-skeletal trauma. I fed him good quality food (which was all I could afford going into the weekend. His litter box and litter were donated to me) I couldn't turn this little cat away. I figured if he was indeed going to die, which I thought for sure he might, he was going to die in comfort. So I let him sleep in my bed after I tried in vain to get him to sleep somewhere else. He wanted comfort and to be touched. I could not deny him that. I just couldn't. The first night I was laying on my bed, one hand open on the bed near me. He was laying a few inches away. He reached out with his little paw and laid it in my hand and went to sleep. I was done for.
I cried a lot and slept very little that weekend. I had to leave him alone while I went to work, so I set him up in a soft-sided dog kennel with a box of old t-shirts and food and water. I can't describe the relief I would feel coming home and seeing him sitting in his little kennel, alive and awake. He would run to me and snuggle on my leg while I ate dinner.
Sunday night I lavaged the wound gently and went down the road for dinner. When I came back he had begun pulling the protuding bones from the wound. I was distraught. I thought for sure he wouldn't make it the one more night I needed him to live. The smell turned my stomach and I could hardly sleep because of it. But it wasn't his fault he was gross, and I refused to turn him out of the van for the night because the raccoons might get him. I knew that this could be a healing crisis, the abscess finally draining out, the bone shards being forced from his body as he healed. But still I was scared.
The next morning first thing I cashed my checks, called a vet and got him in. No one could believe he was still alive let alone eating and drinking and playing. He was better than he was the night before, but he did have a fever. I was able to afford x-rays and antibiotics but not the further surgery they recomended, to remove the rest of his humerus. He has not had that surgery and I don't believe he'll need it after all.
The antibiotics made him sick, and the next few mornings I was woken up at 6:00 by him being sick on my bed. I quickly learned to get up at 5:30 to put him and the dog outside. By this point he had either peed or pooped on my bed every day I'd had him. As soon as he learned the litter box and stopped peeing on the bed, he was sick from the meds. Once I started getting him out of the van at first light all problems resolved. Now he sleeps in the van all night and he bites my toes or pulls my hair to wake me up so he can go out.
The vet figured his injury was anywhere from a couple weeks to a month old. He had apparantly been wandering in the woods since it happened. He was approximately 4 months old when he found me.
He is loving and tough, a great cat. And his will to live was inspiring. People often say he's lucky I took him in, but really it's me that's lucky. He sort of chose me and that's a much different feeling than me choosing him. When I look outside at night and see him lying next to my dog, both of them contentedly staring off into the distance together or chasing a bug, my heart is full. I'll never forget the first time I looked out the van window one afternoon and saw him leaping into the air after a dragonfly, or the first time he stuck his head all the way into a rice cake bag.
When people tell me I did right by this little cat, I get choked up. Because I will never forget those first four nights, when I thought for sure he was going to die and I felt helpless and powerless because I didn't have the money to care for him. I doubted my decision time and again those long nights, thinking I was possibly causing more harm. But I couldn't, I just couldn't, take him to a shelter, and a certain death. Not when he had fought for so long to survive.
Forunately I did make the right choice. There are no words to describe what we went through those first few days. But I have seen this little cat bring light into so many people's lives already. He is an inspiration and a lesson and a blessing.
I started calling him Blue the first day he found me, because he had blue eyes and a blue collar. We thought at first his owner would surface, and so I didn't want to really name him. But no owner surfaced. We think we found out who it was, but they quit asking around when they heard that a kitten had been found minus a leg and was receiving veterinary care. And that's alright with me. After he put his paw in my hand I realized I didn't want to give him back anyway. I don't think he was mistreated by his previous owners. I think he got away from them and got hurt. I don't think they could have treated him at all financially. And though I wasn't in a comfortable position to do so, I could care for him.
His name evolved to Bodhi Blue, after Bodhisattva. I don't remember exactly what Bodhisattva means, but it is a divine being who teaches compassion. This cat took me on a journey into compassion that changed me. It was a dark and painful journey for a few days and now it is a joyful journey. And I will never believe that this cat wasn't somehow divinely sent.
I don't know how he decided to find me. Why he chose that pool to show up on. He could've gone anywhere along the street, but he came to me. I took that responsibilty seriously. I always knew the right cat for us would find us (my dog loves cats, and I've had a hard time finding a cat that will love her back). Bodhi loves Jetta, and Jetta loves Bodhi. They are never far apart, and I know Jetta will protect and defend Bodhi when necessary, and I think Bodhi knows that too.
Some people seem amazed at what I did with this cat, but really I don't understand that. I did what had to be done. I often think the cat would've been better to find someone who could've taken him to a vet right away, but he didn't. He found me. I had two choices, the cat could die or it could live, and this cat was in no mood to die, which left me with one choice, the cat would live. I spent under $200 at the vet, the minimum of treatment he needed to receive, all I could afford. I gave him good food, water, protection, comfort and love. There's nothing amazing about that really. I did what had to be done, that's all. The cat is what is truly amazing. His struggle to survive is amazing. He's the hero in this story. I just gave him a safe environment in which to heal, which is what we all owe our animal companions.
It was a Thursday afternoon. I was walking to the bathroom by the pool. While inside the bathroom I heard a kitten yelling outside. I figured it was one of the local strays, but decided to check it out. I came out of the bathroom and saw a little cat sitting on the edge of the above ground pool, near the ladder. At first I was curious because he was yelling so loud and looked very cute (sort of a tabby siamese with bright blue eyes). As I got closer to him I realized something was wrong. At first I thought his leg was broken and mangled, but then I realized there was no leg there. Now, there was no bleeding, and the kitten was wearing a collar, so I went to find my friend to see if he knew who's cat it was and what the story with it was.
He didn't know the cat, but he picked it up and we looked at the missing leg and realized that it was sort of recent and untreated. So my friend went next door to the vet tech's house and she came over. While he was headed over there, the kitten leaped off the pool and ran to me. I offered him water and a bit of dog food (all I had at that moment). We established that it was what it was and that the kitten didn't appear in imminent danger of death.
The thing is, I had no money at that point in time. I had to work all weekend and was expecting to be paid on Monday. Not a convenient time for a seriously injured kitten to come into my life. That weekend was long. Horribly long. I quickly realized that if I took the kitten to a shelter he would be euthanized. And this damn cat wanted to live. I couldn't do that to him. Nor did I have money for surgeries and all that either. His vitals were good and stable and he was eating voraciously, so I decided to get through the weekend and go from there.
He insisted on sleeping in my bed with me, which was disturbing. After the first night his wound began to ooze and smell and there was a lot of swelling. I realized that it had been abscessing inside, and the gentle lavage we did to the wound had allowed it to begin to drain. I provided supportive care using laser therapy on the wound and administering homeopathics for pain and musculo-skeletal trauma. I fed him good quality food (which was all I could afford going into the weekend. His litter box and litter were donated to me) I couldn't turn this little cat away. I figured if he was indeed going to die, which I thought for sure he might, he was going to die in comfort. So I let him sleep in my bed after I tried in vain to get him to sleep somewhere else. He wanted comfort and to be touched. I could not deny him that. I just couldn't. The first night I was laying on my bed, one hand open on the bed near me. He was laying a few inches away. He reached out with his little paw and laid it in my hand and went to sleep. I was done for.
I cried a lot and slept very little that weekend. I had to leave him alone while I went to work, so I set him up in a soft-sided dog kennel with a box of old t-shirts and food and water. I can't describe the relief I would feel coming home and seeing him sitting in his little kennel, alive and awake. He would run to me and snuggle on my leg while I ate dinner.
Sunday night I lavaged the wound gently and went down the road for dinner. When I came back he had begun pulling the protuding bones from the wound. I was distraught. I thought for sure he wouldn't make it the one more night I needed him to live. The smell turned my stomach and I could hardly sleep because of it. But it wasn't his fault he was gross, and I refused to turn him out of the van for the night because the raccoons might get him. I knew that this could be a healing crisis, the abscess finally draining out, the bone shards being forced from his body as he healed. But still I was scared.
The next morning first thing I cashed my checks, called a vet and got him in. No one could believe he was still alive let alone eating and drinking and playing. He was better than he was the night before, but he did have a fever. I was able to afford x-rays and antibiotics but not the further surgery they recomended, to remove the rest of his humerus. He has not had that surgery and I don't believe he'll need it after all.
The antibiotics made him sick, and the next few mornings I was woken up at 6:00 by him being sick on my bed. I quickly learned to get up at 5:30 to put him and the dog outside. By this point he had either peed or pooped on my bed every day I'd had him. As soon as he learned the litter box and stopped peeing on the bed, he was sick from the meds. Once I started getting him out of the van at first light all problems resolved. Now he sleeps in the van all night and he bites my toes or pulls my hair to wake me up so he can go out.
The vet figured his injury was anywhere from a couple weeks to a month old. He had apparantly been wandering in the woods since it happened. He was approximately 4 months old when he found me.
He is loving and tough, a great cat. And his will to live was inspiring. People often say he's lucky I took him in, but really it's me that's lucky. He sort of chose me and that's a much different feeling than me choosing him. When I look outside at night and see him lying next to my dog, both of them contentedly staring off into the distance together or chasing a bug, my heart is full. I'll never forget the first time I looked out the van window one afternoon and saw him leaping into the air after a dragonfly, or the first time he stuck his head all the way into a rice cake bag.
When people tell me I did right by this little cat, I get choked up. Because I will never forget those first four nights, when I thought for sure he was going to die and I felt helpless and powerless because I didn't have the money to care for him. I doubted my decision time and again those long nights, thinking I was possibly causing more harm. But I couldn't, I just couldn't, take him to a shelter, and a certain death. Not when he had fought for so long to survive.
Forunately I did make the right choice. There are no words to describe what we went through those first few days. But I have seen this little cat bring light into so many people's lives already. He is an inspiration and a lesson and a blessing.
I started calling him Blue the first day he found me, because he had blue eyes and a blue collar. We thought at first his owner would surface, and so I didn't want to really name him. But no owner surfaced. We think we found out who it was, but they quit asking around when they heard that a kitten had been found minus a leg and was receiving veterinary care. And that's alright with me. After he put his paw in my hand I realized I didn't want to give him back anyway. I don't think he was mistreated by his previous owners. I think he got away from them and got hurt. I don't think they could have treated him at all financially. And though I wasn't in a comfortable position to do so, I could care for him.
His name evolved to Bodhi Blue, after Bodhisattva. I don't remember exactly what Bodhisattva means, but it is a divine being who teaches compassion. This cat took me on a journey into compassion that changed me. It was a dark and painful journey for a few days and now it is a joyful journey. And I will never believe that this cat wasn't somehow divinely sent.
I don't know how he decided to find me. Why he chose that pool to show up on. He could've gone anywhere along the street, but he came to me. I took that responsibilty seriously. I always knew the right cat for us would find us (my dog loves cats, and I've had a hard time finding a cat that will love her back). Bodhi loves Jetta, and Jetta loves Bodhi. They are never far apart, and I know Jetta will protect and defend Bodhi when necessary, and I think Bodhi knows that too.
Some people seem amazed at what I did with this cat, but really I don't understand that. I did what had to be done. I often think the cat would've been better to find someone who could've taken him to a vet right away, but he didn't. He found me. I had two choices, the cat could die or it could live, and this cat was in no mood to die, which left me with one choice, the cat would live. I spent under $200 at the vet, the minimum of treatment he needed to receive, all I could afford. I gave him good food, water, protection, comfort and love. There's nothing amazing about that really. I did what had to be done, that's all. The cat is what is truly amazing. His struggle to survive is amazing. He's the hero in this story. I just gave him a safe environment in which to heal, which is what we all owe our animal companions.