Her fur was cool to the touch and she was having trouble moving her back legs. My husband and I wrapped her in a towel and brought her into the warm barn where I laid her on the dog bed.
In less than five minutes, I had my mare, Whisper's, legs wrapped. Knowing what we needed to do, Don and I gathered up the kitty and headed for the car.
The rumble of the garage door caused the orange tabby to panic, so my hubby grabbed a cat carrier and we gently guided "Pumpkin" inside. All the while, she talked to us, occasionally crying out in what can only be described as spine-tingling cat screams. We placed a towel beneath the carrier on the front passenger seat and turned on the bum warmer, thinking the heat might help.
En route, I phoned Lisa at the Tanasbourne Emergency Animal Clinic and gave her an estimated time of arrival, fifteen to twenty minutes. Then I drove like a curious mix of heaven and hell. I didn't want to hit an animal, but I also knew that time was of the essence. All the while, I talked to "Pumpkin" and she to me. If her carrier grew quiet, I gently tapped the side until I had a response.
Lisa was waiting and she rushed the injured kitty into the back of the clinic, where the attending vet administered pain medication, performed an initial exam, and took X-Rays. The diagnosis, a broken pelvis in non-weight bearing areas, was alarming.
The doctor explained that "Pumpkin's" back end didn't seem responsive, although it may have been a function of being in shock and also being very cold -- a mere 94 degrees. Only time will tell. For now, I've left my name and number and a donation to cover part of "Pumpkin's" medical bills.
Here's what I DO know about the orange tabby. She's been hanging around the ranch for the past month or so, spending part of her time beneath our deck. I've seen her chase Sprite, our very tiny dog, and she's been chased by Lei Lei, my daughter's medium-sized dog. On at least one occasion, "Pumpkin" regally marched in front of the dogs and I and seemed very much at home, strutting an "I own this place" sort of attitude.
Several times, I've attempted to get close enough to pet "Pumpkin," but she's always kept a polite distance. Thinking back, the orange tabby has always been sleek and well fed, an indication that she belongs to someone. Furthermore, two bright surgical clips, the result of spay surgery, glow white on "Pumpkin's" X-Ray, an indication that she's more than a feral cat.
If "Pumpkin's" back legs are responsive in the next day or two, she should be able to mend completely with six to eight weeks of cage rest. If not, the clinic will humanely euthanize her. For now, "Pumpkin's" prognosis is guarded.
Before I left the clinic, I went back and checked on "Pumpkin." She was sedated and lying on a plush pillow, a blanket over her, a hair dryer type apparatus pumping warm air all around her. I gently stroked her head and promised I would do my best to find her people.
Tomorrow, I'll canvas the neighbors and see if I can locate "Pumpkin's" owner. For now, will you pray for the beautiful, brave orange tabby, the one that miraculously dragged herself from the road to the front of the barn?
It would be good to pray for the poor person who accidentally clipped this kitty, too. I'm sure they are worried and wondering about the little flash of orange that collided with their tires.
Until morning, rest and mend well sweet Pumpkin cat.
"There is something magical about saving the life of
a lving thing, if you can do it. It is an affirmation of life itself, a bow to
humanity, connection in a time of fragmentation, an affirmation. We can't do
much, but maybe we can do this, and that makes it a sweet little miracle." ~Jon
Katz
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