Dusty's brush with death

My frantic mother came home last night telling me that our cat, Dusty, was MIA.



If any of you have a normal family you might know that this, for cats, is not a big deal. Cats tend to mosey in a direction for 10 minutes before realizing they're lost and tend to just kind of find their way back. I told my mom to relax, and after 12 years of having two previous cats who were famous for wandering, I figured it wasn't a big deal.



But to quell her fears, I trekked around the neighborhood, kitty treats in hand, calling for the cat while shaking the treat bin. It was like a distressed mexican fiesta...for felines.



No luck. This tactic usually worked for my previous cats, so I started to get a little worried. However, one of those cats was obsessed with me, so he lived to respond to my every beck and call. (I'm not kidding. He used to throw himself at my bedroom door for hours until I let him in.) Regardless, I gave him the benefit of the kitty doubt and went inside to make dinner. My mom, meanwhile, was a total wreck.



One think you need to understand about my mom is that she's a nurse, so she's incredibly caring and nurturing, which pretty much makes her the greatest mom in the entire world. However, she has chosen to make her cats honorary children, so she must nurture the shit out of them as well. Which, by the way, they totally love. Dusty waits patiently outside her bedroom door every morning in hopes she'll emerge sometime soon. He doesn't have too many things to fill out his day.



Anyway, my mom's instincts told her that Dusty was somewhere in the house, while my dad was galumphing around declaring the cat "Coyote Food," which wasn't helping things. My mother set out ripping her hair out while simultaneously scouring every nook and cranny for her baby.



Lo and behold, Dusty had curled up under a couch in the basement, and he was NOT a happy camper. He looked something like this:'

Yes, Dusty was found completely disoriented and sitting in his own piss.

Mom dragged him out of his self-declared grave and immediately took him to the emergency vet, where they found bite marks on his stomach and back, indicating some extremely large and extremely hungry creature which much larger teeth attempted to eat Dusty during the night. I imagine this is a traumatizing experience.


Hopefully my cat has not completely lost his mental stability and is able to much a full physical and emotional recovery, and we definitely will be sealing the kitty door up for good. Mittens, our other cat, may disapprove, but I'd rather have him cry and whine in the house (which he CAN and WILL do) for three years while staring longingly at the front door he cannot open with his little kitty paws than find his kitty skeleton in the backyard.


Poor little kitty. At least he's ok!