Bruce Wayne

2003-08-18 20:31:10 (UTC)

Fragility of life

Yesterday before we were leaving for the beach a little
black cat with 5 or 6 toes on its front paws wandered into
our yard. Her pupils were dialated and she was kind of
staying away from us. She wasn't running away though. We
were a little nervous about approaching it due to it's
eyes. We kept an eye on it for a couple of hours and then
went out for the day.

When we came back home, after a day at the beach the poor
thing was still here, in visibly worse condition. She was
weaker and was drooling. I'm fairly sure she ingested
something poisonous. I had a restless night's sleep and
checked up on her in the morning.

She was in nearly the same position I left her in . She was
in a box with towels which I covered with our recycling
bin. I was affraid she'd either fall in the lake, or a
predator would attack her. I was relieved to find her still
alive, and no longer drooling.

I called our vet, who we go to as a last resort. He's kind
of a gruff old guy with suspect bedside manner. He was
great when we had to put Hannah down due to feline lukemia,
sent us a sympathy card and everything. Well true to form,
he wasn't loads of help. He was unsure as to what was
making her ill. He was relatively sure it wasn't rabies
which was a relief. He pumped her full of fluid and said to
keep an eye on her for the next 24 hrs. The prognosis isn't

I was IMing Rob and found myself getting really sad about
this little life that wandered into out existence. I think
it's remarkable that the immediate response was to try and
save her. Is it human nature..if so it gives me hope! What
amazed me more was the feeling of sadness that overcame me
thinking about her dying, and wanting to soothe her. I was
so relieved when the Doc said she probably didn't have
rabies and was handling her with out gloves. I didn't like
the idea of having to hold her with gloves on. I don't know
if this comes from my work in AIDS, but I much prefer the
physical contact. I believe that some healing happens

So I've spent my day pumping this kitty with water and milk
via a turkey baster. I'm hoping that it'll give her little
body enough fuel to put up a fight. I wonder if it's at all
comforting to her. I've been stroking her and talking to
her. I've been trying to massage her and coax a purr from
her. Some how I think she'll be ok if I can get her

Between trying to save this kitty and writing this book ,
I'm really beginning to miss working in Human Services.
That connection to life and making a difference on some
level really meant alot to me. I'm also beginning to
remember the fine line between committment and
overinvestment. I'm remembering how often I straddled it,
slipped over it, and plain old lept to the other side.
There were more than a few times that I felt like I was
saving lives, and that what I was doing was of the hightest
value, but I was getting paid dirt. Now I feel like I'm
making pretty good money, but the work is of no intrinsic
value. I have a nice life, and I desire more in the way of
creature comforts but, I don't feel like the job the bigger picture.

I'm pretty invested in the writting process now. I've even
sent Keith the first 8 pages I've written. They're not
anything difinitive, but I think they're a good start and
I've got most of the story figured out. I'm really looking
forward to seing what he has to say.

I n the mean time I'm doing all I can to keep this little
life going it possible I 'm enjoying the fight
against death. Certainly wouldn't be the first time.