Well we got through this horrible morning where Diesel couldn’t have any breakfast, in fact was not allowed to have anything since 8pm last night. You’ve been here with me before, so I won’t go on about it, but I hate hearing his pitiful wails for food and then, what seems almost worse, his silent, hunched acceptance with head hung low and eyes distant and glazed. It was as if he has known hunger in his past, and ‘goes there’ again in his memory. I had to go in to work first thing to deal with letters and e-mails to delegates for my Conference, then came home to do some proofreading. Poor Bubbles missed Diesel! R came home and we sorted the room out for tonight’s meeting, then we went to pick up our groggy moggy from the vet.
The vet asked us if he’d suffered face trauma as a kitten, because not only were some of his teeth wonky – including the one he’d taken out, which I loved – but his jaw clicked as if it had once been broken. We weren’t surprised, to be honest, because though we’ve only had them for two years, and the rescue centre knew nothing about their history (they’d been taken there from another centre that had been closed down, and no paperwork had come with them), we had an idea that they had known ill-treatment.
That’s because once or twice, when going to stroke them, they will catch sight of the back of our hand and cringe, flinching and flattening themselves on the ground with their eyes shut, as if waiting for a fist in the face. It was a shock to my heart when it first happened with Bubbles, and then Diesel did it too. They are the same with any sudden movement or noise, too.
So we’re very careful now and talk softly and on an upbeat note, making sure that they know we’re approaching them, and they’re fine.
A hundred and sixty quid it cost me to get him back!! Including the injections, antibiotics and special food. But I don’t begrudge a penny of it of course. We were so glad to have him home – particularly as, as I was paying, I overheard one of the receptionists talking on the phone to an animal’s owner, saying that they could collect ‘his’ ashes to take home. My eyes filled with tears and my heart with sympathy, as I thought of the sadness there must be in that house today and for some time to home, about the loss of their pet. We are lucky; our lovely lad was coming home.
The nurse said that he probably wouldn’t want to eat until tomorrow, but as we suspected as soon as he was out of his box he wobbled straight to his food bowl and has eaten 1½ sachets already, plus some of R’s ham.
Now he’s dozing in the conservatory, happy to be home. I haven’t gone to the meeting tonight as the Vet said that one of us should stay with him.