Mountains In U.k. - Scone & St...
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♥Killer Kitty! ♥ Paul Barnes Printed In The Lady In 2015 – Edited By Me.
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According to the hospital consultant a cat’s tooth is like a hypodermic needle: long, thin and sharp, capable of piercing the flesh to deliver its toxic load. Cats are pretty hopeless at oral hygiene. Felix was no exception. We’ve kept cats for years.
He first turned up early in spring. We called him Felix because he looked rather like the cat who figured in those wacky black-and-white silent cartoons of the 1920s.
Felix was cautious to begin with, keeping his distance, but gradually coming closer, eventually feeding but with a wary eye. Weeks passed. The occasional pat on the head was permitted. And then I made to pick him up. After all, we knew each other well enough by now, didn’t we?
We didn’t. He sank his hypodermic tooth into the base of my right forefinger. The blood that poured out was quite alarming. More alarming still was what he’d injected into the knuckle joint. For a start, there would very likely be a dash of tetanus, as rife here in Norfolk as country music.
The hand, swollen to twice its normal size, was tender to the touch. Holding a pen was impossible, and it would be a while before I made any more bread. At the GP’s they gave me an anti-tetanus jab and a course of antibiotics. But after two weeks the wound refused to heal. They referred me to the hospital where I thought they’d lance the finger, dress it, and send me home.
They had other ideas. Their worst-case scenario: I could lose the finger. They found me a bed with a sign above it that warned Nil By Mouth. Next day, in a frock and knee length socks, I was wheeled to the operating theatre.
I woke to see the face of an angel, a tiny nurse with big brown eyes, bent close above me. My right arm was in an L-shaped foam sling suspended from a sort of gallows. My personal angel eased any pain, frequently checking my blood pressure and the supply of oxygen. I told her about Felix. She purred and told me she had cats too.
Next day I got parole, on condition that I turn up each Tuesday at the Hand Clinic.
But the microbes – Pasteurella multocida – were having a good time too and declined to leave the party. X-rays showed that they were attacking the bone, eating it away. Time for a second operation, this time under local anaesthetic; debriding, they called it.
It’s 13 weeks since The Bite. At last, fingers crossed (ho, ho), the game would appear to be up. X-rays now show the bone growing back. I picture the cringing, demoralised, debilitated bugs begging for mercy.
As for Felix, I never blamed him for what happened. He’d continued turning up to be fed and cautiously patted – until the evening before the second operation. He appeared beside the bird table at the top of the garden. No amount of coaxing would bring him any nearer. I even opened a tin for him but when I looked again he was no l longer there – gone, but decidedly unforgotten.
I have taken out all the fluffy padding - introduction to his three current cats etc.
I have had a few nasty bites from Princess Merlin (she is evil) and have had endless courses of antibiotics but have been lucky in that the infections have never arrived at my bones.
He first turned up early in spring. We called him Felix because he looked rather like the cat who figured in those wacky black-and-white silent cartoons of the 1920s.
Felix was cautious to begin with, keeping his distance, but gradually coming closer, eventually feeding but with a wary eye. Weeks passed. The occasional pat on the head was permitted. And then I made to pick him up. After all, we knew each other well enough by now, didn’t we?
We didn’t. He sank his hypodermic tooth into the base of my right forefinger. The blood that poured out was quite alarming. More alarming still was what he’d injected into the knuckle joint. For a start, there would very likely be a dash of tetanus, as rife here in Norfolk as country music.
The hand, swollen to twice its normal size, was tender to the touch. Holding a pen was impossible, and it would be a while before I made any more bread. At the GP’s they gave me an anti-tetanus jab and a course of antibiotics. But after two weeks the wound refused to heal. They referred me to the hospital where I thought they’d lance the finger, dress it, and send me home.
They had other ideas. Their worst-case scenario: I could lose the finger. They found me a bed with a sign above it that warned Nil By Mouth. Next day, in a frock and knee length socks, I was wheeled to the operating theatre.
I woke to see the face of an angel, a tiny nurse with big brown eyes, bent close above me. My right arm was in an L-shaped foam sling suspended from a sort of gallows. My personal angel eased any pain, frequently checking my blood pressure and the supply of oxygen. I told her about Felix. She purred and told me she had cats too.
Next day I got parole, on condition that I turn up each Tuesday at the Hand Clinic.
But the microbes – Pasteurella multocida – were having a good time too and declined to leave the party. X-rays showed that they were attacking the bone, eating it away. Time for a second operation, this time under local anaesthetic; debriding, they called it.
It’s 13 weeks since The Bite. At last, fingers crossed (ho, ho), the game would appear to be up. X-rays now show the bone growing back. I picture the cringing, demoralised, debilitated bugs begging for mercy.
As for Felix, I never blamed him for what happened. He’d continued turning up to be fed and cautiously patted – until the evening before the second operation. He appeared beside the bird table at the top of the garden. No amount of coaxing would bring him any nearer. I even opened a tin for him but when I looked again he was no l longer there – gone, but decidedly unforgotten.
I have taken out all the fluffy padding - introduction to his three current cats etc.
I have had a few nasty bites from Princess Merlin (she is evil) and have had endless courses of antibiotics but have been lucky in that the infections have never arrived at my bones.
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We have three dogs but at the time of the accident, no cats ...however a very scruffy tom habitually made his way over our back fence ( god alone knows why ! ) to be met with abuse from our tribe if they happened to be outside.
Very early one morning several years back now there was an unholy row from outside ..I ventured out in nightie and slippers to find Mr s on the ground with bleeding hand and dogs going nuts !
Still haven't got the full picture yet, but he was trying to pull Holly away and the cat struck.
Did he want to go to the hospital ....No. He went up to feed out the horses and by the time he returned the hand was very swollen ....Ok to the doc, anti-biotics & see me tomorrow ....into local hospital for overnight meds by drip, next morning, staff not happy, off to major hospital by ambo for micro surgery ASAP.
(god men are hopeless when injured or sick)
Anyway a couple of days staying put plus extras, he's lucky the hand has healed beautifully with no loss of function .....and the cat didn't come around anymore.
We now have a cat , dogs love him and he rules the roost !!
Very early one morning several years back now there was an unholy row from outside ..I ventured out in nightie and slippers to find Mr s on the ground with bleeding hand and dogs going nuts !
Still haven't got the full picture yet, but he was trying to pull Holly away and the cat struck.
Did he want to go to the hospital ....No. He went up to feed out the horses and by the time he returned the hand was very swollen ....Ok to the doc, anti-biotics & see me tomorrow ....into local hospital for overnight meds by drip, next morning, staff not happy, off to major hospital by ambo for micro surgery ASAP.
(god men are hopeless when injured or sick)
Anyway a couple of days staying put plus extras, he's lucky the hand has healed beautifully with no loss of function .....and the cat didn't come around anymore.
We now have a cat , dogs love him and he rules the roost !!
Tambo - 3 days is before they start climbing the curtains. They are so cute and so 'evil'.
seekeerz - are cats native to Oz? Your OH was lucky. Especially with a cat he didn't know. They are very fast and unpredictable. My two are indoor cats and are quite shy - apart from when they are killing each other.
BM - ASBO sounds lovely and now he no longer has to share you so he will be extra pleased with himself. Frankie sleeps with me for safety reasons (to hide from his sister) and often kneads away with the claws out. You are right, a claw in the boob is pretty painful. He is sleeping on my hip these days - so he can see if Merlin is coming to kill him in his sleep.
Cats - love them or hate them they are fascinating animals.
seekeerz - are cats native to Oz? Your OH was lucky. Especially with a cat he didn't know. They are very fast and unpredictable. My two are indoor cats and are quite shy - apart from when they are killing each other.
BM - ASBO sounds lovely and now he no longer has to share you so he will be extra pleased with himself. Frankie sleeps with me for safety reasons (to hide from his sister) and often kneads away with the claws out. You are right, a claw in the boob is pretty painful. He is sleeping on my hip these days - so he can see if Merlin is coming to kill him in his sleep.
Cats - love them or hate them they are fascinating animals.
1 to 10 of 10
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