Feline political negotiations experienced a setback last week. In another in an ongoing series of squabbles about who gets to sleep on the bed (MY bed) during the day, OldCat caught NewCat with a pretty good swat across the face. (Which is basically like getting your ass kicked by an 85 year-old man. But he’s also twice her size, so he has a longer reach to his advantage.)
Cinnamon came down from the bedroom loft with a scratch across the bridge of her nose bleeding badly enough that I had to dab at it with a paper towel. By the next night it was also apparent that he had damaged her left eye somehow.
Although it was difficult to tell how badly, because Cinnamon is… not very compliant. If she doesn’t want you to look at her eye, she will make you regret trying.
After a trip to the vet (who knew a free cat could be so expensive?) she got a shot of antibiotics, a tentative diagnosis of a scratched third eyelid (nictitating membrane), and a tube of goop for me to apply to her eye twice a day. She spent two full days curled up on the thermal mat on the couch, getting up only to eat or drink or use the litter box. My poor little puddin’.
Luckily by Sunday, even though her eye looked about the same to me, she clearly felt better. She was up and engaging in some of her usual routines, like her hobby of staring fixedly at the neighbor’s car for no apparent reason.
(The best thing I can say about that picture is that it’s in focus. I tried fixing the lighting in Photoshop, but – as is so often the case – it only made things worse.)
It has definitely gotten better. Although it’s not as healed by now as I thought it would be. The vet said if it doesn’t improve, she will need to be brought in and tranquilized for further examination.
If that statement made you hear cash register noises in your head: congratulations! You must be a pet owner!