Not a Typical Day In Cat Rescue

I no sooner pushed the "Publish" button on yesterday's blog post when the phone rang.  I was already stress with my sweet "soulmate cat" Newman in surgery, but I wasn't expecting complete chaos on the other end of the phone when I answered.  All I could hear was a man screaming.

It was the voice of my son.

The second voice I heard was his girlfriend's voice:  "Mrs. Turner,  I've called an ambulance for Patrick, he's in agonizing pain in his head and can't walk.  Can you come to the hospital?"

What you don't know is when Patrick was a teenager, he fell 45 feet (approximately 4 storeys)  onto the cement when a carnival ride collapsed.  He had recovered from a massive brain injury, but we always had the caveat that he could be predisposed to an aneurysm per his neuro-surgeon. 

I won't go into all the details, but after a CT scan, spinal tap and 8 hours in the emergency, they didn't know what was wrong. 

I would periodically leave the emergency room to check on Newman's surgery at the vets and ask one of our volunteers to take over the rescue's phone lines and emails.  I thought I had everything covered and even remembered there was a house showing at our other house for sale that needed to be cancelled!  I took a deep breath.

The cell phone rang in my hand as I sat outside of the hospital for a few moments in the sunshine.  It was the vet at another affiliated vet clinic.  One of our foster kittens was there and he wanted authorization to do an x-ray.  He suspected FIP.

I went back into the emergency room to be with my son and waited for another opportunity to walk outside to check on my own cat and the sick foster cat.  Another two hours went by and the doctor came in to do the spinal tap. 

With coffee in hand, I called the rescue's vet.  The kitten was dying.  It was FIP and he asked for permission to euthanize.  My heart sank.  It was just too much.  Newman, my son and a dying kitten?  I had a moment of complete selfish anguish.  Why can't I have just ONE DAY to deal with matters of my own life?  I put my hands into fists and closed my eyes.

Then I realized...Rescue IS my life, and sadly authorized the euthanisia of "Oz". 

My son and my Newman are both recovering.  I, on the other hand, spent today trying to recover from a Thursday I won't soon forget.

Kiss your loved ones....human and furry...tonight.