I’m sorry that this may be a sad post, but for me it is also one filled with hope. In the short time that I’ve known her, this kitten has come to mean so much to me, and I want to share her story.
Last week I was volunteering at an animal shelter and I met a tiny stray kitten who had suffered a traumatic brain injury. When I first saw her, she was unsteady on her feet, walked in circles, and had one eye permanently dilated. I hoped that, with time and supportive care, she might gradually recover. Since then I’ve been in regular contact with the veterinarian caring for her, and unfortunately her condition has declined. She’s circling more frequently now, and there is concern that she may soon begin having seizures. If she can stabilize over the next week or so, the shelter has said I may be able to foster her. In the meantime, I’ve offered to come in each day just to hold her, keep her warm, and make sure she spends as much time as possible feeling safe and loved.
I have become far more attached to this little kitten than I ever expected. I keep thinking about how young she is and how unfair it feels that she may never get the chance to simply be a kitten. She should be learning to play, exploring, and growing into her own personality, not struggling just to stay on her feet. It’s difficult not to imagine what she might be experiencing or wonder whether she’s frightened or confused. I know I am already doing everything I can, but I hope that my presence can at least make her days a little less lonely and a little more comfortable.
I’m trying to remain hopeful while also preparing myself for the possibility that she may not recover. Whatever happens, I want her to know kindness for as long as she’s here. If she improves enough to come home with me, I’ll do everything I can to give her a happy, fulfilling life despite whatever disabilities she may have. If she doesn’t, then I hope the time she had was filled with warmth, gentle touch, and the feeling that she was loved.
It is hard for me to accept what might happen before I’ve had a chance to intervene, so I keep reminding myself that compassion is not measured by if we change an outcome, but by how we have stood beside those whom the outcome approaches.
I had a cat, Tiger, who was around 5 when he got into someone’s pesticide in the neighborhood. I immediately took him to the vet when I found him, and they helped him out. He was fine for the most part, but it took some time and some stress to get there. When he came home, the little guy constantly drooled after that, always held his head a little crooked, and always struggled with his balance when doing something.
But he never let it stop him.
He always followed me, and when I was outside he was constantly jumping up and down from things, playing with me, chasing squirrels or butterflies (he was a really, really bad hunter. He rarely caught anything, even before the incident.) I tried my best to give him a good life, even despite the damage he endured. He was really happy, and he didn’t act differently afterwards, with the exception of getting annoyed with me for making him stay inside.
My point is, despite this little girl’s trauma, she may pull through and have an amazing life. In my experiences, pets with special needs, or that have been through a lot, can have incredibly fulfilling lives that ultimately teach and humble you.
I’m so sorry to hear about Tiger; pets can sometimes be their own worst enemy, but I’m glad to hear that even through that, Tiger pulled through and lived a happy life. It makes me more hopeful for the little one.
One of my current cats is named Mochi, and much like his namesake he is soft, fluffy, and can be sometimes be a big dumb pile of goo. More than once I’ve had to chase him around the house to pull something dangerous out of his mouth, and despite catproofing the house as much as possible I’m afraid that one day he’ll put something dangerous in his mouth and I won’t be there to stop him. Thankfully, he’s calmed down as he’s gotten older.