|Abai, the Golden, age 12|
|Anvik, Alaskan Husky, age 9|
|Willow, curled up on her orthopedic mat in front of the heater, with her best cat friend Tequila|
AND, today, the stray cat we took in a few years back (because the scummy neighbors who adopted her as a kitten moved a year later and left her behind) went to have oral surgery. Yes. ALL her teeth have now been removed due to rotting - no idea why. Bad genes, apparently. I have put it off for two years because I could not make myself pay the thousand dollars it was quoted as likely going to cost me. After two years, though, I could no longer stand to watch her shake herself in pain when a piece of dry food got caught between her teeth, and she didn't even have the ability to eat soft food without pain. She would just lick the gravy and could not seem to eat the mush part and was losing weight, and her breath stunk so badly you couldn't stand to have her near you. Unfortunately, she is the lovey-est cat who simply LIVES to be near you and to love you, and the guilt was killing me. Everyone I know tells me how absolutely ridiculous it is to pay a thousand dollars for a cat's teeth. A cat I didn't even really want, or love. And while I agree, it IS ridiculous, I also wonder, really, what are my choices. I could not ask the vet to put her down. There is nothing health-wise wrong with her. I could not bring myself to ask anyone to shoot her, although that was the most often recommended advice of people. Finally, I just decided to suck it up, use my savings and try to make it up somehow by cutting from some other areas until I get it put back. Yes, it's dumb and I hate that I had to do it. I wish I were somehow a little harder inside. But, I'm not. And maybe there will be some karma someday for having done it. Maybe Katie cat will save my life someday. Or something.
So, the week isn't full enough of animal care - and the accompanying financial pain! - but last night, I find I've lost a couple of chickens to, likely, Miss Anvik the noted chicken killer (not her fault they ended up in her back yard) but that Bramble, my Border Collie, managed to save one and herd her to me at the back door. That story, or what I think is the story, is actually pretty funny, but I'll save that for another post. For now, I have a crippled chicken living in my kitchen. I hope it's temporary. And no, I'm NOT taking this one to the vet, no matter what. I love my chickens, probably far more than Katie-cat, but I am NOT spending vet money to make her well. She can live in a cage and be a, well, a, I don't know, a front porch chicken, or something, the rest of her life, if she has to. Not a house chicken (though she does seem to be pretty happy laying on a lap...) and I am NOT spending money to make her uncrippled if she doesn't manage to do that on her own. She will just have to get over it. That's all there is to it! Go ahead, call me heartless, I just don't care.
|Poor thing - unlike the dogs and cats, she has no name......|
|Perhaps I could make some money off this bird to put towards my current "animal sanctuary" - she seems to be absorbing much from the EMT textbook... the first Chicken EMT???|