I'm not the most original person when it comes to naming pets. I had a fluffy Siamese cat that I loved more than anything. I bought him from a pet market(Kartimar) exactly one year ago. When I first got him he was very sickly and he couldn't speak or walk very well. After a few weeks of care and visits to the vet, he eventually got better and became very hyper. For most of the year it was given free reign of the house, then my mom, not being an animal person, limited it to the lanai, then kicked them out of the house completely. It was hard for me to leave them alone out there because I've had several bad experiences with my cats getting lost or them getting stolen. For a couple of weeks, the change didn't seem to bother the cats, they actually seemed to really like rolling around in the grass and sunbathing, until the accident at least.
About two weeks ago, Whitey and Blacky bumped into a supply rack while they were playing. A heavy can fell from the top rack and hit Whitey directly on the head. It wasn't until I was about to leave for school that I saw what happened to my cat. I saw him hiding under the cabinets and immediately noticed something wrong with his eye.
I panicked and tried to lure him out from under the cabinet by placing food in front of him. Usually, Whitey's a real pig and would eat no matter what you give him but he wouldn't even budge for it this time. Eventually I gave up on trying to lure him out and opted to gently pry him from his position. I had no car so I placed him in a cage and ran to my village gate. From there I took a tricycle to the nearest vet but as fate may have it, it was still closed. I didn't know any other vet in the area so I asked the tricycle driver to bring me to any vet he knew of. Whitey hated being in the cage and hated being in a vehicle even more so he cried all the way.
We soon got to a vet that was open 24 hours for emergencies and we manage to catch the helper opening the gates. I brought Whitey in and they checked how he was doing. They said they couldn't save the eye so they brought it in to have it removed. I wanted to stay with him but I had school on that day and my parents wouldn't be too keen with the idea of me skipping classes. The vet said that we could pick Whitey up on the same day so when I got back from school, that's exactly what I did.
I thought that Whitey would be fine even if he only had one eye. I've heard of several pets being able to survive even when blind so I wasn't too worried. The only problem was that Whitey wasn't just 50% blind, he couldn't seem to move his jaw either. He wouldn't, or couldn't, eat anything for almost a whole day so I once again panicked and rushed back to the vet. They took an x-ray and found out that his jaw was fractured and it made it difficult for him to chew. The vet told me that since he was still young, the fracture should heal on it's own after enough time and care (calcium supplements). The only problem was that since he couldn't chew his food, he'd have to be fed very slowly else he'd salivate all his food out. I was worried with that. It takes me an hour a morning just to clean and medicate his eye, now I'd have to patiently feed him a pea sized serving of pate 12 times in a span of one hour with a 5minute duration in between each feeding. I'd have to wake up everyday at 2am just to take care of him and that wouldn't be enough. I wouldn't be able to feed him at lunch time either and I didn't want him to starve. I asked the vet if they could take care of Whitey till he was strong enough to start eating again and the vet agreed that that would be for the best since the first few days of recovery are the most crucial.
For a week, Whitey stayed at the vet. I got updates and I visited him everyday and things seemed to be improving. Whitey got his appetite back and even when he couldn't really chew his food, he'd try to anyway. The vet said I'd still have to feed him the pate but I didn't mind, as long as he was still alive. When the week was over, I was allowed to bring Whitey back home. I paid the vet 10k (~$240), placed Whitey in the cage and brought him home. I wanted to keep him in the vet for a while longer just to make sure he was okay, but I didn't have enough money to keep him there even for a day longer. He was frail and walked with a limp but he was still excited to get out of his cage and start rolling in the garden again. In two days, I would have to bring him back to the vet to have the sutures removed, then he'd officially be on the road to recovery. The first night went great and the two cats rubbed and licked each other as if they missed each others company. I was just so happy to have Whitey back with the family.
The next day my group had a scheduled video shoot in my house for our finals in video production so I was busy trying to gather up all the items we'd need. After I fed Whitey his breakfast, I went upstairs to try to unlock the travel bag we'd need for the shoot. All of a sudden I heard my mom scream my name as if she was really angry. I was startled, I thought I did something wrong, so I ran down the stairs. My mom was standing at the bottom of the staircase and she just looked at me and said "I'm sorry". I didn't know what she was talking about but I suddenly got really worried. My mom usually never says sorry, even when she is in the wrong. The she started talking again. She said that she was backing out of the garage to go have lunch with her friends and she didn't see Whitey. She was going to say more but I was already bawling in tears.
I tried so hard to keep him alive and less than a day back home he leaves in one of the worst possible ways. I'm frustrated, I didn't want him to die and if he was only allowed indoors he wouldn't have died.
I was only allowed 30 minutes of grief until my group mates arrived for the filming. My uncle already buried the cat and cleaned up the blood by then, he didn't allow me see what happened to my cat. I couldn't stop thinking about my cat throughout the whole shoot and I just felt so bad. (I think I might have even annoyed my classmates because of it)
About halfway into the shoot, I heard my mom's car back up into the garage. Soon after, I heard meowing. My mom spent two hours driving around, looking for a healthy cat with papers, and she chose to buy the one she couldn't afford. My mom doesn't work and my dad only gives her enough to pay for the grocery and bills. She had to borrow money from her brother to buy me a new cat. I really appreciate it, and I don't blame her for what happened to Whitey, but a new cat doesn't make me feel any less depressed.
The new cat is still unnamed, and now because my mom is traumatized from the experience of running over an animal, the two cats aren't allowed to go outside. It's what I've always wanted for my cats. They're both asleep in my room right now. The black one seems to act as if it was the new one's parent. He keeps licking him and following him around. I find it adorable.
I still feel awful though. I was supposed to bring Whitey back to have his sutures removed today.