So Fluffy lives to fight another day. This cat is determined to never die. On Saturday I noticed his back leg was swollen and he was limping. He was obviously uncomfortable and possibly in pain, but as is the case with this household, human and animal, all illnesses and accidents are confined to weekends or after hours, so I decided to let sleeping cats lie and see what happened.
Sunday was the same. Swollen and limping. My son eventually confessed that he had stepped on Fluffy in the dark when he came home in the early hours of Saturday, but was quite sure he hadn't broken the cat's leg. Fluffy continued to eat and drink vast quantities, and limped from one end of the house to the other, following the sun during the day.
On Monday he had a small fit, not unusual, and knocked his sore leg against the gate. Aargghh! Blood and guts everywhere. He wouldn't let me touch him as his leg bled profusely and a tentative look revealed something that I didn't care to investigate. I was sure this was the end for Fluffy and the vet would decide that euthanasia was the answer. I discussed this with my daughter, who said I had better not let it happen. She can't imagine life without Fluffy. She spent her afternoon with him while we waited for the vet appointment, which the cat knew about, as I had been to collect the cat box. And this is where his survival instinct kicked in. He knew where we were taking him and he could sense that we might not bring him back to his patch of sunshine. By the time I put him in the box, he had eaten a large portion of fresh tuna, had a bowl of milk and been for a short limp in the garden. He was by no means at death's door.
The vet confirmed that it had been an abscess caused by a bite (from whom we don't know, as he never leaves the house) and my son was not guilty of assault. A few antibiotics and he is on the mend. He used up his ninth life many years ago. This is just sheer willpower. I think when he does go, he will haunt us to make sure we never forget him.
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