Our girl, Ralph, has a broken leg.
Ralph is, like most cats I’ve met, assertive. She likes attention, likes to be involved, likes to know what’s going on. As a result, when anyone comes to visit us, Ralphie is right there. As in right there under the car before you park.
So yes, I ran over Ralph. We’ve done dance hundreds of times. I drive in very, very slowly. She gets too close. I go slower. She gets out of the way. I park and we discuss traffic safety and proper greeting procedures.
Two weeks ago, our usual routine went awry.
A trip to the vet revealed her leg was broken (though thankfully no other injuries). She was sent home with a splint, pain medications and instructions to take it easy and keep the bandage dry.
We turned the mudroom into Ralph’s room with food, water, an old dog bed of Baxter’s, a litter pan and lots of treats. While she hated being in the house at first, proximity to Ellie (aka Giver Of Treats) has changed her perspective.
Also, she’s realized that being out of the wind, rain and, yesterday, snow, is not a bad deal. In fact, every time I tried to put her outside yesterday, she scooted around me to get back in the house.
She’s figured out how to walk on three legs and has made it back to the barn several times. She’s also made a few escape attempts the other way–through the mudroom and into the rest of the house (not happening, girl). She yowls when she needs to go outside (the litter pan is also not happening–she’s always been part dog).
A check-up last week revealed that the bones are still aligned, though they’ve not started to mend yet. With our at least 8-years-old cat, it may take awhile. For now, we’re doing our best to take care of each other and be comfortable in our new routine.