They almost killed my baba!

Posted: November 12, 2010 in Uncategorized

Caesar

I never really knew I loved my cat so much till I saw him bleeding from his face, eyes full of watery stuff (cat tears? wtf.) and looking scared to death, under my dad’s car.

I was in the hall, putting out all my drawing papers. Taking my torch out. No this is not a scene from National Treasure but we have a neat little trick in college we use to do last minute homework. You put the right answers (smuggled from somewhere) on a glass table, and then your blank sheet of paper on top of it, a torch under the glass table – and voila! Instant tracing awesomeness.

Man I am so screwed if one of my lecturers stumbles on this.

Anyway suddenly, dad walks in, “Caesar got hit by a vehicle on the road itseems.. guess we’ll have to take him to the vet, that is, if he survives.”

Wow thanks a lot, dad. Always such a chirpy little man.

I run outside and find Caesar hiding under the car – he’d been hit by some asshole in a pajero, and the bottom of his face was soggy with blood. But he could move and his eyes were alert, so phew he wasn’t dead or something. But shit. All I saw was blood at the time so.

I ran around teary eyed like a blubbering panicky idiot, he’s bleeding! Call the vet! What if he bleeds to death?! His breathing is stifled, maybe he can’t breathe?! Maybe he broke something?! AAHHH. *cardiac arrest*

Finally we ended up taking him to a vet at 11.30pm. I’m carrying a bleeding cat and my dad decides to have a chat with the vet about Peradeniya university.

Daaaad. Cat dying over here. -_____-

Oh they’re still yapping during the surgery, when the doc had to make a few stitches on Caesar’s lips while he was under anesthesia. Somehow, he’d got his lips torn, but thankfully nothing else was injured. I’m watching the doc pull the needle through a lip as Caesar lies completely limp on a steel table, nnngggggg.. doc stops the needle mid-air and says to my dad “ah yes, I tried architecture out at one point, blahblahBLAH.”

-________-

At some point, I manage to convey to dad through a look to do the tea time gossip party stuff AFTER the friggin operation.

Sigh. We get home and Caesar’s stitched up and still unconscious from the anesthetic. It’s 1am, I put him in his basket and keep it next to me and try to do some work. In an hour he starts twitching, in two he tries to walk while still half drugged. And falls repeatedly on his side, on his face, and upsets the stitches. I have one hand to hold him down and one hand on my drawing papers, balancing the torch between my knees under the glass table. Mad skills.

After hours of trying to keep him from repeatedly walking and falling on his face, and getting blood from the stitches on my shirt (visualize the gore pls), I carry the bugger and walk around the house, MUM, DAD, BRO, A LITTLE HELP HERE?
They just grunt and go to bed. Real loving family you’ve got here, Caesar.
He’s awake for the most part but his body’s still drugged, and I can’t keep him from walking anymore after hours of ‘YOU’RE DRUGGED CAESAR, JUST GO TO SLEEP FFS, PLS, GAWD.’ So he’s walking and flopping and determined as fuck to walk properly, and I can’t bear to see him keep falling on his face, so I crawl around holding him up while he tries to walk.

Urgh the things you do for love.
After hours of that I am exhausted and I just pass out on the floor, he walks and flops around for another half hour and does the same.

Mum finds us in the morning, both looking rather FML-ey.
I have to feed him through a syringe for two weeks now and the look on his face says he is totally manic depressive right now. He’s the sorta cat who’s awesome in general, so being this limpy sad invalid is surely fucking with him.

I know animals are animals, and it’s not considered a serious criminal offense to kill one in this country or hit one with your vehicle, but animals have emotions and fears and minds too. They’re not stuffed toys or something. Just because they don’t communicate on our frequency or language doesn’t mean they don’t actually experience things like family and love and pain. They feel.

So to all you bastards out there who’ve hit-and-run an animal, and were all meh about it since hey, it’s not like you killed a human right?: fuck you.
I hope a pajero hits you in the face, see how you like it.

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Comments
  1. John says:

    The only time I actually cried over a death was when my cat died 😦 When you make a connection with a living thing you don’t really care whether it’s got four legs or breathes through gills or what not.

  2. Naveed Zanoon says:

    😦

  3. My Acid Words says:

    damn straight. (re. the ending)
    poor lil guy i usually hate cats but urs is so damn cute!!
    gws ceaser (cuz he can so read what i type here… 😛 )

  4. Tulie says:

    I don’t have a pet now but I can totally relate. They put you through hoops with the love you have for them don’t they? 🙂

    Glad he’s alive Shifani, hope he’s well again soon.

  5. Ahamed Nizar says:

    CAN I HAZ SYRINZE?

    😀

  6. Chavie says:

    Awww! I’m just glad he got away with just that cut. He’s an awesome awesome cat man, escaping death and all that jazz! 🙂 Hope he gets well soon.

  7. dee says:

    pau ane 😦 get well soon ceas. 😦

  8. Azrael says:

    😦

    Here’s wishing Ceasar a speedy recovery.

  9. gutterflower says:

    Hope C gets better soon.

  10. Hopefully he’s better now. Ditto to the ending!

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