Right now Tig is sleeping in my lap. Crashed out hard. He came in here scream crying at me and I had to pick him up and cuddle him until he fell asleep. He's mad because Brent is packing and he's figured out that packing means leaving. Smart kitty. Sweet kitty. Little pain in the ass kitty.
Three years ago we were on day two of the broken leg saga. I was so tired. And wrung out emotionally. Felt like the world's worst pet parent. I mean, whose kitten breaks a leg? Turns out more than you would think...but at the time it seemed like it was only us.
My friend Chris was my lifeline during that stretch. She was like my own personal veterinary assistant and she started with "you aren't a bad pet parent" and then went from there. Helped me to advocate for better calming meds for him when it seemed like he was not settling down and resting. Helped me look at wound care and if I was overreacting to the way it looked or if it really did need some extra care. Basically held my hand long distance as I was freaking out and melting down and gave me the exact words to say to the vet to make sure I was being heard.
A lot of what I worried about didn't happen. He and Tux remained bonded. He did (eventually) leave the wound alone long enough for it to heal. We did find a cone that was large enough to keep our leggyboi from being able to reach his stitches but still light enough that he could keep his tiny little kitten head upright.
But during it? Especially those first few days were I was sleeping on the bathroom floor with him? Oh my gosh I didn't see how we were making it through. There were weeks and weeks ahead of us and I just couldn't imagine how we were going to all keep our sanity and make it work. And I mean, we might not have kept our sanity completely, but we did make it work. Including figuring out how to make the spare room safe enough for Tig and I to move out of the bathroom and at least get a little more space.
Which I was super grateful for. I mean it. That moving into the other room with the portable couch/chair/bed thing I found on Amazon was like the best fanciest resort room I'd ever been in. Sleeping on something that I could stretch my whole body out on instead of folded into interesting shapes? Amazing. Having a window? OH MY GOSH...GUYS THERE ARE TIME CHANGES HAPPENING! A little over two weeks spending around 20 hours a day in a bathroom made me really appreciate a room with a window.
And then there are the things that we think happened just because he broke his leg. He really is the sweetest cat we've ever had. He's a terror as well, don't get me wrong, super destructive, chew on everything, but... He loves to be carried around. And cuddled. And he needs to be where we are. We think it's because he spent that 8 week period locked in a room with one of us always being with him. And holding him a lot of the time. And even when we left the room he didn't get full unfettered run of the house for quite awhile. He got carried up and down the stairs. He was locked into our bedroom at night with us, after being placed on the bed. He had to be with us and so now he thinks he HAS to be with us.
Which makes traveling a little more complicated...but oh well.
But when it started I was sure I wasn't going to make it through. I was sure it would ruin the relationship he had with his brother. I was sure I wasn't going to be able to keep him still enough that he could heal. But we did it. One day at a time. One nap at a time. One set of pain pills at a time. One Brent taking over so I could at least walk around the house for a bit and take a shower at a time. It all worked out.
I mean, I never want to do it again, but at least I know we can.
If you need to get through hell, just keep walking.
How it's going.
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