Her Royal Highness

I really should introduce the youngest creature who lives with me. She's such a pervasive little presence that I sometimes forget that She's only been living with me for a little over a year.

Before moving to Portland I worked at a 24 hour animal emergency hospital. Sometime in May of 2007, a litter of 3 day old kittens was brought in to the hospital by their owner's neighbour. She was concerned because there seemed to be something tangled around the legs of some of the kittens, and she didn't think the owner was doing anything about it.

It quickly became apparent that two of the kittens had their umbilical cords wrapped tightly around their hind legs, and that the legs in question were in very bad shape. When the doctor removed the cord, both kittens lost part of a hind limb. Because of their age and the lack of willingness on the part of their owner to do more, they were sent home with antibiotics and no other treatment. I wasn't on shift that night, and I likely wouldn't have ever heard about this case if it weren't for one of my co-workers.

This co-worker volunteered for the SPCA, and 6 weeks after this incident she got a phone call asking her to pick up some kittens who had been advertised as "free" in a local paper. The SPCA would often take these kittens, spay and neuter them, vaccinate them, and then adopt them out, but these little ones were too young to enter the shelter yet, so this lady was asked to foster them. She was more than willing to do it, but was a bit confused by part of the ad which read "some have legs already removed". Of course, once she saw and recognized them, she was determined to look after them.

Because of her work schedule, the kittens were brought into the hospital so they could be fed regularly. The most convenient place to keep them just happened to be the Client Care office, which was right behind my work station. It didn't take me long to fall in love with one little black and white fluffball with a shortened hind leg. She was sweet, cute, playful and purred like a lawnmower almost constantly.

Really, who could say no to that face?
The first few weeks with Minnow (she was small, squirmy, and wriggled like a fish when she walked) were great. She and Merlin got along beautifully, and she was a happy little kitten. Her personality began to shine through more and more every day, usually making me laugh. She refused kitten food outright, preferring to eat only what Merlin was eating (hydrolised soy protein at the time...yuck), which caused me to lock her in the bathroom with her nightly meal to ensure she'd get some form of proper nutrition. I caught myself yelling back at her one night, after she'd been venting her frustration with screams and growls. "You can't come out til you've finished your dinner!" I yelled at the door. Oh yes, she was getting to me.

Over the next few months I began to notice a pattern with Minnow. She was an overall nice cat with a sweet personality, but she had moments of rage and anger that seemed to be happening more frequently. These were nothing like her mischievous (digging up all my plants) or stubborn (wailing at the bedroom door for 6 hours straight) traits, they were more of a grumpy and bitter attitude. She'd yowl at me and hiss for seemingly no reason, or bite me or Merlin. I started to watch her more carefully and realised that the worst outbursts were always shortly after she'd bumped the stump of her leg on something. I began to wonder if she were in any pain, so I had a chat with some of the doctors at work.

Minnow was a regular at the hospital since I would often bring her in for my shift in an attempt to tire her out so she'd let me sleep. Everyone loved her and so when I asked one of the emergency doctors to take a peek at her, it was no problem. She suggested giving her a trial dose of pain control to see if it made a difference, and added that if she had to take bets, she'd bet that the leg was extremely painful to her. I gave Minnow a small dose of pain control, and was rewarded by an almost complete turnaround in behaviour. Suddenly, I had my sweet little kitten back, the one who liked to cuddle and purr. It was a pretty dramatic demonstration.

Shortly after Christmas of last year, Dr. J. amputated what was left of Minnow's leg. I watched the entire surgery (how often do you get a chance to watch someone purposefully sever a sciatic nerve?) and was amazed by the condition of the stump. The bottom of it had never entirely healed and always looked red and slightly scabby, but when I finally was able to palpate it properly, I realised that the bottom 2 inches of it were just skin and bone. No muscle or fat had grown over the tip of the bone to protect it, which must have meant excruciating pain every time it was touched. No wonder she'd been so grumpy!

Minnow recovered beautifully (she shocked the ward nurses by devouring a double breakfast only a few hours post-anesthetic and then begging for more) and turned into a wonderful little cat. She and Merlin became extremely close and like to wrestle all day, groom each other, and then sleep curled up in a ball. He occasionally gets tired of her overwhelming energy, but has developed ways to get away when needed. She made it through her teenage stage with just enough cute moments to keep me from throttling her, and emerged on the other side as a charming, personality filled, sweetheart.
So, I introduce Minnow Cecilia Periwinkle Peg Dryden.