Shepherd Farm

We had an experience this weekend that was heartwrenching and yet tremendously hopeful.  After a long frozen winter, this weekend spring arrived – the temperatures reached 50 degrees, the sun filled the sky, the breeze was warm, and the snow melted, showing signs of greening grass beneath.  All the barn cats lazed about soaking up the sun in their favorite spots — all the cats except Mickey.

Mickey was our first barn cat.  He came to us almost a decade ago as a gift from our insurance agent – a 3 or 4 year old orange tabby.  Mickey was super friendly and would hop in your lap whenever you sat down and he would purr and knead away.  He was famous in our barn for his special skill of climbing the ladder from the barn aisle to the loft, one rung at a time.  He would sleep in the loft at night and hop down each morning for the ritual community cat feed.

On this glorious spring day, Mickey was not sun bathing, but rather was hunched in the tack room, breathing heavy with mucus running from eyes and nose down his chest and paws.  I knew when I saw Mickey that this was very serious.  I called our vet who agreed to see Mickey right away without an appointment. 

When the vet pulled Mickey out of the cat carrier, she saw a coughing sneezing cat who was weak and dehydrated.  She told us frankly what we already knew which was that he was “fighting for his life” and was a “very very sick cat.”  She told us that we had to separate him from the other cats.  We discussed euthanasia.  In fact, many in the room advocated euthanasia.  It was Saturday and many felt that Mickey would not survive the weekend.

I watched Mickey as the vet scrubbed his nose, took his blood, and gave him a shot of antibiotics.  Mickey struggled but also purred and kneaded the edge of the metal examination table.  I continued to watch Mickey.   The vet put Mickey back in the carrier – discussions of euthanasia continued.  I watched Mickey.  He kneaded the towel in the cat carrier, sneezing and coughing, and then started to groom himself – that is it I thought – he still wants to live, he is cleaning himself even if ever so weakly.

We brought Mickey home from the vet and put our barn cat on a blanket and pillow in the bathroom.  We plugged in the vaporizer, turned up the heat, gave him subcutaneous fluids, and left him to heal.  Saturday night Mickey did not eat.  Sunday Mickey did not eat.

But Sunday night — Mickey ate and ate and ate.  He purred when we came to visit and to administer more medicine.  He kneaded me and sat in my lap.  As I write this blog entry on the way into work on Monday morning, Mickey is eating and kneading.  Mickey told us that he wanted  to live and we have given him the chance.  Mickey is now a house cat for his “forever” – whatever that may be.