Juno, our eldest fur child at 16 years young, has been SO loving and gentle with Malka. She lets her toddle on over and grab her fur, with out so much as a reaction. Well, OK, perhaps the occasional glance in our direction, as if to say, OY, kids!
This morning, Malka was doing her usual couch cruising, and Juno was at the other end. Malka went for it, and Juno growled, as if to say: “Sorry kid, I haven’t had my coffee yet, I’m not in the mood, please come back later, OK?” But Malka giggled, and grabbed again. Juno growled again, Malka giggled again, grabbed again, Juno growled again, and I went in to move Malka’s hands out of the way, and plop her on the floor. Juno chose to give ME the bite instead of Malka. And one tooth broke skin. I calmly picked up Malka, told Juno thanks for letting me know how she feels, and brought Malka into the bedroom, asking Narda to keep an eye on Malka for a second, while I cleaned up the “area.” I washed it, put some of Malka’s bactoban (basically prescription neosporin) on it, followed up with a band-aid and went about my morning.
When I got to work, the EEEVIL lure of “Dr. Google” was calling. Yeowza! Um, if you want to be FREAKED out, go do a search using only the words “cat bite.” Eek. I had to make an appointment with my faboo doctor anyway to talk about all of the anxiety stuff and to get a referral for a (gulp) psychiatrist. I also casually mentioned to the guy making appointments that my sweet little old lady cat gave me a bite this am, and I was sure it was fine, but that Dr. Faboo should know. SHE (not an advice nurse) calls me back in FIVE minutes, admonishing me for not going straight to the ER. That cat bites are serious. She said she wants me in today to get a ‘scrip for antibiotics. Twice a day for 2 weeks. OK, um, she may not have been aware that my “Health Anxiety” was at a peak. So I freaked out. But I was able to get an appointment for 3:30 today, and the lovely diversion of transporting the Torah (yet again) to another venue for a Bar Mitzvah did wonders to occupy my mind in the interim.
I got to the doctor’s office early, by 3pm, but my doctor was leaving for the day, and I saw another doctor. She took one look at my finger, and said “you’ll be fine.” I started crying right then and there. I then had to briefly explain the health anxiety thing, and she just reassured me “You’ll be fine, this is totally OK, it looks great. You just have to let us know if it gets yucky and pus-like.” Now mind you, on the subway ride over, I was looking at the bandaged finger, SURE of the fact that it was red, swollen, and warm. ALL the signs of infection. She gave me antibiotics, a tetnus shot, and I was sent on my merry way.
I went and got some soup for lunch (I was too freaked out to eat earlier), while I waited for my perscription to be filled, and popped an amoxycillian as soon as I picked up the ‘scrip. Picking up Malka from daycare brought another form of reprieve from the anxiety and fear, and seeing her giggly happy face that was just as happy to see mine, well, it made my day that much brighter. And then Narda called, and mind you, she’s “sick.as.dog,” (I know it’s an incorrect phrase, but it’s um, how we say it…) with the DVFH” AND subbing over at Lion King this week, but she was concerned about ME. She was worried. (I SO love that woman!) A co-worker at Lion King (who is studying to be a vet tech) told her that we have to have the cats checked for Bartonella I called and left a message for our vet; but with the help of Dr. Google, I think they are free and clear (it’s primarily transmitted through fleas, and Baruch Ha’Shem, we are flea free, with indoor cats), but I still want them brought in and tested. And until we get the results, Malka will be kept at a much larger distance from them than usual.
And for now, Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and I have the turkey in the brine, the rice is made, and I have to go have glass of wine #2, and make the stuffing. I’m letting the “area” breathe for a bit, but it will be back under antibiotic ointment and a bandaid overnight.
Thank goodness for wine.
2 thoughts on “Thank G-D it was me, and not her…”
I can’t really speak for your cats (or Juno in particular), but I know that one of our cats has been known to use his teeth to make a point in the past. (The other one wouldn’t know how. She doesn’t understand how to bite, much less how to bite hard…)
Our cat who has bitten in the past would NEVER bite a baby. He would, however, bite one of us if he was riled and needed to tell us something.
Point being, I don’t think Juno would have bitten MP3. I think he bit you, as you said, to tell you how he was feeling. To chide you for not intervening sooner. Biting MP3 wouldn’t have accomplished anything.
anyway, hope everyone’s healthy and your bite heals soon!
Yes, bites are serious. Not so much that you ought to freak out (esp. on one which is shallow) but because they can infect, and (esp. the deeper ones) being puncture wounds have, in the event of infection, a much higher incidence of serious infections.
We had a dog bite recently, and we found out all about the risks.
Trusting that everything is in order; and yes, butternut squash is yummy. It makes a swell soup.