Epileptic cat
“Kitty!” I called my cat while I put the rest of the canned meat in her bowl.
“Kitty!” I called again. Normally my cat was in the kitchen purring on the table while I struggled to open “her” can.
How can a cat not hear or smell even if she has to poop?
I opened the bathroom door. The lights were off.
This has never happened before.
There are no windows in my bathroom but it still looks familiar. I turned on the light.
”Kitty!"
My voice was lowered to a whisper. I knelt beside her and touched her jet black fur. Her body was stiff. I cradled her in my arms, planning to call my parents or my friend Julia who might know a vet.
Suddenly I felt her muscles cramping, her heart beating faster her breath harsh. I hold her while she kneaded me repeatedly, then she turned back to her stiff position. My arms were bleeding.
I knew by then my cat was epileptic.
I put Kitty down, then called Julia. Why couldn’t I tell her my cat is epileptic?
I grabbed my cat by the neck with my left hand, then her back legs with my right hand. I think I can handle her better this way when she wakes up.
She looks like a zombie, I thought.
I hold her under my left arm while I locked the door. When I grabbed her legs she turned around and bite my fingers. I shouted out loud in the corridor, then I looked around. Thankfully nobody heard anything.
The emergency vet wasn’t too far away but walking down the streets with an epileptic cat in my arms can be tiresome. Why had the vet to have his office exactly at the halfway between where my grandmother lives, on the right side of the street and where my parents live, on the left side of the same street. There was no sign or banner to let you know there was a veterinary practice in one of the two buildings separated by a side street that leads to a supermarket.
Before I could get inside the building my cat woke up and bite my again. I screamed, hoping someone would help without saying something hurtful about me and my cat. Nobody seemed to care. I hold my cat as best as I could, entered the building, climbed the stairs to the first floor then entered the only door there was.
“Help!” I called.
Three wounded people in their beds waited in what was supposed to be the reception room. Their wounds were bleeding but they still had the power to look arrogantly at me and my cat.
The vet or the doctor - because I don’t know who exactly his patients are - came slowly to one of his patients to talk to him quietly and check his wounds.
Then he turned around to me.
“How can I help?”
“My cat will wake up soon. She will hurt me again.”
He turned around to check his second patient.
“My cat is waking up!”
The doctor turned his back on me, further talking to his patient.
The cat purred, stretched her paws, then looked into my eyes.
“Oh please, not again.”
“Stop!” I screamed repeatedly while the cat seemed to never stop.
“Help!” I screamed to the doctor.
“Kill the cat!” he said
My cat was suddenly stiff again. My blood was flowing on her coarse, horse-like fur, then further on the ground.
I checked her pulse but there wasn’t any. Her body laid limp in my arms and her heart didn’t beat anymore. Is she dead?
When I reached the crowded street again, her body began to stink and I felt it rotten in my hands. I placed her on the soft ground of the only garden in front of the building where the doctor has his get office.
I took the tram back home. After all that happened I’m too tired to talk to either my grandmother or my parents. On my way home I saw the block house where my parents live. I made a mental note to call them when I’ll feel better; after all this madness will be over.
I opened my apartment door.
“Kitty!” I called.
“Kitty!” I called again.
How can a cat not hear me even if she has to poop?
I opened the bathroom door. The lights were off.
This has never happened before.
There are no windows in my bathroom but it still looks familiar. I turned on the light.
”Kitty!"
My voice was lowered to a whisper. I knelt beside her and touched her jet black fur. Her body was stiff. I cradled her in my arms, planning to call my parents or my friend Julia who might know a vet.
Suddenly I felt her muscles cramping, her heart beating faster her breath harsh. I hold her while she kneaded me repeatedly, then she turned back to her stiff position. My arms were bleeding.
I knew by then my cat was epileptic.
