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      Saturday, August 21, 2004

02:01 PM - 08/21/2004

The topic: Damn dogs


Saturday, August 21, 2004 Damn dogs.  Damndogsdamndogsdamndogs.  Damn dogs.

Yesterday, the neighbor’s daughter brought her dogs over for dog sitting.  This isn’t the daughter with the oh so adorable little cutie pie Papillion breed, but these are big dogs, like an Irish setter and some other mixed breed mutt.  It was early evening, I’d started to get the house closed up in anticipation of getting all the cats in for the night and shutting the computer down.  Brian was at his brother’s house, helping him load the truck (he’s moving his shop now, the house stuff is all moved).  Those damn dogs rushed the fence.  Cats scattered.  One cat hit the screen door.  Damn dogs. I got up from the computer to see if everyone was all right.  I found Marco in the family room, unable to walk, not putting any weight at all on his left rear leg.  Damn dogs.

It was about 7:30, I called Brian’s mom’s house, the head of my fan club answered the phone.  I asked her if Brian was home.  She didn’t say anything.  I asked for Brian’s mom.  She put her on the line.  I asked Brian’s mom if Brian was there.  She said ‘yes’ I asked if she could please get him to the phone.  I heard her tell the sister in law that it was me and that there must be something wrong, to get Brian.  I heard her yell for him at the door, then I guess she took the phone out to him.  He got on, I told him I needed his help, we had to take Marco to the vet.  I got the carrier out, put Marco in it and started getting cats in because I had no idea how long this would take.  I saw the woman next door out in her yard, I asked her if she’d seen anything, she said ‘no’.  I was able to get Daniece in and Brian and I left.  I signed us in around 7:45 and was told it might be an hour before we saw the vet.  I conferred with Brian and he said that was okay.  After fifteen or so minutes, I told him to go and I’d call him when I was ready to come home.  Fortunately, he’d grabbed my cell phone.  Unfortunately, I hadn’t grabbed anything.  I had no money, no wallet, and no reading glasses.  This was going to be a long wait.

Marco didn’t seem to be too uncomfortable.  There weren’t many people in the waiting room and I put the carrier on a chair and I sat on the floor in front of it.  I opened the door and petted him and scratched his head.  He purred for me.  His eyes looked good.  I got water from the cooler and put it in a little paper cup for him and he drank quite a bit.  I was called into an examining room where Marco was weighed.  A big boy at 18.8 pounds.  That was all and Marco and I went back into the waiting room.

Finally, around nine, I called Brian and told him that I hadn’t gotten in yet.  He said he was finished for the night (he’d gone back to his brother’s) and he was coming back to the vet hospital.  Did I want anything?  (Yeah, to be out of here and home and have Marco be okay.)  I said I’d like some water.  They locked the door at nine and Brian got there about a quarter after.  And we waited some more.  Finally, about ten thirty, we were finally called into an examining room.  Then we had to wait some more, the doctor finally came in, I took Marco out of the carrier and she checked him over.  She said that the best thing to do was to not mess around with the leg, but to just take x-rays and be sure. 

We put Marco back into the carrier (he wanted down off of the table and walking wasn’t an option at this time), where he was more comfortable.  About eleven or so, the x-ray technician came in and took the carrier and Marco into the back.  We heard Marco’s protestations when he was being positioned for the images.  It wasn’t pretty.  By eleven-thirty, my fears were confirmed.  Marco’s leg was broken.  Unfortunately, the surgeon didn’t work on weekends, it would be Monday before they could operate.  Marco would either get pins in his ankle or a plate.  It would be up to the surgeon.  (Damn dogs.)  The doctor said she’d get the estimate ready and we could go up to the front and check out for the night. Brian had mentioned bringing Marco home earlier and after we found out how bad this was, I had the impression they’d be keeping him there at the hospital.  When the clerk got our bill ready, she handed me some torbutrol.  Why?  I asked.  I said “Marco is staying here, isn’t he?”  She didn’t know, she thought he was going home with me.

I’m thinking ‘what the hell am I going to do with him at home?’  Sure, I could put him in my bathroom, but he pees in the sink.  That’s not a problem for me, but he has to jump to get up there and jump to get down and it’s sure as hell going to be a problem for him.  We don’t have a huge crate to put him in, I looked at Brian, can we use Mark’s?  Nope, Mark was using his now for his dogs since they’d moved.  A few years back, I’d suggested we get one of our own, but Brian said we could always use Mark’s.  I guess that’s another instance where you shouldn’t speak in absolutes.  If we had our own, we could take Marco home.  But we didn’t.  It was my feeling that being home would be too stimulating and stressful for Marco.  Sure, he’d be on pain pills, but he’d probably not just sleep, but want to see the other cats and get upset at being locked in the bathroom.  We decided to leave him there.  For his own safety and well-being.

The estimate was $1600.00 to $1760.00. That didn’t include the $200 we paid last night.  And it doesn’t include the additional three nights of hospitalization at fifty bucks a night.  *sigh*  And I just got all of our credit card debt paid off Thursday afternoon.  Almost twenty thousand dollars paid off and here we go again.  We had to leave a deposit of at least five hundred dollars.  Thank you citibank.

So, you sit at a vet’s office for close to four hours, you’re the last one to be served and you hear and see a lot of different animals, people and stories. One of the most amazing stories was the story of a young kitten maybe three or four months old, the cutest little brown tabby, who’s head, between his ears, was all stitched up. The stitching was in a U shape, from ear to ear to above his eyes. The hospital crew was walking around with him after the place had pretty much cleared out. His story is nothing short of a miracle.

He was brought to them by a pet rescue organization. His previous owners had taken him to a vet to be euthanized because of a hole in his head (lots of this tale is sketchy because they didn’t have all the information). This vet euthed him, giving him three times the normal dose for him to be killed. Then he was put into the freezer. The next morning, he was still alive! Rescue somehow got a hold of him and brought him to this clinic, where they operated on the hole in his head.

He looked alert and happy, they said there doesn’t seem to be any damage from what happened to him. One of the vets wants to adopt him.

They named him “J.C.” I guess you can figure out why.

We got home about a quarter til midnight.  I had changed the sheets so we both needed to take showers.  I had to finish cleaning my shower because I’d scrubbed my bathroom yesterday and was letting the Comet set on the bathtub porcelain.  I rinsed the tub, got the rest of the cats in while Brian fed the outfronts.  Once all the cats were in, I fed our cats, gave DeeJay his amoxi tab and then his fluids.  I took the first shower, then he took his shower.  We finally got to bed a little after midnight.

Damn dogs.

So, we’ve decided that Brian will be covering the rest of the chain link fencing with wood.  I hope he does it tomorrow.  I found a huge sheet of cardboard back in his shop and have it against the fence right now.  I wish I had more.  I’m even thinking about pinning old sheets up against the chain links so those damn dogs won’t be able to see into our yard and annoy the cats.  If Brian doesn’t do the fence tomorrow, you can bet your ass I will be out there with old sheets and a box of safety pins, appearances be damned.  Just like those dogs.

Poor Marco.

Damn dogs.

Ross and Rachel came through their surgeries with flying colors. I took some pictures of them when they got home, I just have to upload them.

Little Bit moved her kittens to the yard next door to us (not to the damn dogs house).  It looks like those people are on vacation.  If she holds true to instinct, she should be moving them again in the next few days.  Brian put the old car cover back onto the Mustang, with the hope that she’ll bring them there.  I sure hope she brings them someplace back here.  She’s here on schedule for food and you can hear her purr when she eats.  She also verbalizes, which isn’t common for a feral.

Well, I had planned on cleaning the house today, including scrubbing the floors.  The only problem is I don’t have anything comfortable and cool to wear, shorts wise.  So, I’m going to Wal-Mart and look for some cheap stretchy shorts, then come home and get busy.

Oh, I called the vet hospital earlier and asked about visiting Marco.  I was told Saturdays are pretty busy, but that early Sundays are better.  So, I’ll probably go see him tomorrow morning. And we’re also going to get a large crate tomorrow, to be ready for when he comes home next week.

If you want to donate or buy something from my store to help out with the costs of Marco’s injury, feel free.

Damn dogs.

Poor marco you have had a ruff time of it . I will send a prayer or to for him love bcat.

Posted by bcatsrmine8 @ Saturday, August 21, 2004 - 8:05:05 PM

Keep us posted on Marco.  I well send positive energy to him and both of you! ((Hugs))

Posted by DonnaB @ Sunday, August 22, 2004 - 8:10:05 PM


I met you while you were waiting to see the vet - best wishes to you and to Marco - love your site.

Posted by Mary Ann Martin @ Monday, August 23, 2004 - 5:33:05 PM

I left you some money to help with Marco’s bill. It’s given in memory of Fred Friendly. Last wk he walked across the Rainbow Bridge. He will be missed.

Posted by Darlene @ Tuesday, August 24, 2004 - 10:52:05 AM

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lisaviolet is sixty something, married with no kids, takes care of lots of cats, likes taking photographs, loves Southern California weather and spends altogether too much time avoiding her responsibilities.

In her spare time, she makes pretty things to sell in her store.

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