The Death Cat

Cats murderer!
Originally uploaded by salgada.

Butterball didn’t look her normal self. First of all, that old Himalayan-mix never ever grooms herself. If it weren’t for my constant attempts to brush that old cat, she would completely mat over. She barely stirs, much less sit up, in that old wicker basket we lined with bedding. So when she jolted and began frantically licking herself, I knew something was wrong.

My first reaction was disbelief. “Hey, does Butterball look sick?” I asked my wife. As f on cue, Butterball started choking on her tongue. She began to drool—thick, foaming blood ran down her maw. It had the appearance and consistency of regurgitated strawberries. The tongue lashed out, left and right, sloshing the blood-saliva mixture down her dirty-grey chest.

Yeah- you could say something was very wrong!

And then Butterball meowed. It was a meager sound that struggled to produce itself from the tip of the tongue, and instead reverberated deep within her throat. She coughed up another spat of blood.

I ran to the kitchen for a paper towel… wet nap… something… anything to sop up the blood. My sudden movement triggered Butterball like a stretched rubber band moments before it snaps. The sound of my bare heel on the hard wooden floors gave signal, and she was off for a position under the kitchen table. I bumbled toward the cat. The cat ambled out of my reach. It was a dangerous prospect to corner an injured animal, especially a stray cat with a feral attitude.

My wife and I talked it over.

Butterball is fairly advanced in years. How old? We can’t say. She as a full adult when we took her into our house seven years ago. We couldn’t reverse the disease, but at least we could make her remaining time on earth as comfortable as possible. Instead, we opted for the less costly painkillers and antibiotics.

We’ll leave the rest to be decided by nature.

Tags: cat, blood, tooth, disease, pet hospital