Please may I draw your attention to all self-respecting cats, kittens and their human families to my plight.
Since last Thursday, I have been incarcerated in a cage – smelling of dogs, no less – in my human family’s living room.
Ok, it is en-suite and I have four meals a day, but I ask you...no outside strolls, naps on my oldest human’s bed, frolics with my fellow cats or home cooking.
My fellow cats look at me through the bars of the cage and I swear they are sniggering at me. Just when the garden has lots of sunny spots to doze in and butterflies to pretend to chase. Maybe I can explain how I came to be here.
I haven’t been able to tell any human what happened to me, but believe me when I had managed to drag myself home to my horrified humans, I thought I had lost at least eight of my nine lives.
Luckily, my humans have a wonderful emergency service from their vets and I was whisked away to hospital, where they did all sorts of undignified things to me – but I didn’t really care as I was very sore and shocked.
Over the next few days, I had drips, x-rays, bandages and lots of tlc from the lovely ladies.
However, my vets thought I would probably never be the same and would probably be incontinent for the rest of my days if the feeling in my back end didn’t come back.
Was it the best thing to do to end my life? When my humans came to visit, I could tell they were upset by the water running down my eldest human’s face. I made sure I nipped her, as I do when I want to tell her something, to say: ‘I am not ready to be put down yet.’ (I never dared nip my lovely nurses.) My humans said: “No, let’s wait.”
To cut a long story short and despite my horror of going to the toilet in front of anyone, against almost all the odds and after a week of bad news, my humans got a call saying there was a ‘glimmer of hope’. I had my feeling back.
The next time I saw them, there was more water on their faces, but smiles as well. I suffered more indignity by having my tail removed (what a glorious tail it was too). Then I had to say goodbye to my lovely nurses and came to be incarcerated here.
My youngest human is a very good nurse and my old human makes sure I have all my medicine at the right time.
I still have my four meals a day, en-suite, bed changed every day, small sleeps on the sofa.
I can now take a small stroll around the living room. In fact, maybe I could put up with my imprisonment, as without the dedication of the Alnorthumbria vets and their fantastic staff, I wouldn’t be here at all.
The Bilton one will be free again.
Avril Barnes and family,
Bilton Cotts, Lesbury