I came home from work to find my daughter in tears that our cat, Quinnie (real name) had eaten a dryer sheet. She said that she was able to get “most” of it out of her mouth but not all of it. I figured, it’s a cat - it’ll survive. A day or two goes by and the cat is not eating. Now I am getting nervous and decide to go to one of the local pet stores that have veterinarian services in the back to see what product I could buy to “push” that dryer sheet along. The very nice assistant tells me that if the cat has not “pooped” it could be serious. I tell her, of course she has pooped (not really knowing if she has or not) and isn’t there a kitty enema I could buy? She says - “do you really think you could give your cat an enema?” Good point. She told me to watch the cat and I should really go to my Vet and have her checked out. Only problem - I had no Vet. She suggested a animal hospital down the road that she would call first to let them know that I was going to go home and get my cat. She said that they were really nice and that they would help.
Never really bringing the cat out of the house for anything, this was going to prove harder than I thought. We had no travel container so I got a large hamper and my husband and I put the cat in there with a towel over it. If anyone knows that horrible cat screeching noise that they make - it goes right through you! We were going down the road and I saw an animal hospital and told my husband to pull over. I got out and ran inside to ask if anyone had called them about my cat. I was greeted with a nasty “you have to wait your turn.” There was no one in front of me or at the counter so I was like - ok? I politely asked if anyone had called about the cat who ate the dryer sheet and if someone could help me. She looked at me like I had three heads and told me to sit down and she would get to me in a minute. I knew this was NOT the hospital I was supposed to be at. I turned around and said that I was in the wrong place and left. Three blocks down there was another hospital and I ran in asking if anyone had called about a cat and a dryer sheet. The very nice person behind the counter thought it was the start of a joke until she saw that I wasn’t laughing. She said no, but that, of course they would help me out. I got my husband and the cat and they were the absolute nicest, most caring people that I have ever met. They told me they would keep the cat over night and get back to us.
The next day we got the call to come in. Unfortunately, the dryer sheet was blocked in the intestines and she would require surgery to remove it. This was five days before Christmas. This was also thee worst year for us. The surgery was over three thousand dollars. We were devastated. Knowing right then and there we could not afford to have the surgery, we made the decision to put the cat down. My husband had put down, in his childhood, two dogs and knew the pain that came with that decision. The next heart wrenching decision was to tell the kids that the cat would not be with us anymore. I had come in to say “goodbye” to the cat and started to cry. I tried to stay with the cat as long as I could. They were all hoping that something could be done. I thanked them for being so kind to me and my cat and left. The cat was to be put down at three o’clock in the afternoon. I told my husband to be there with her toy. I told him, do NOT call me when it’s done. I had called my family and closest friends and we all just cried. Then my cell phone rang at two forty five and it was my husband. I immediately thought “why can’t husbands just do what they are told?!?!”
I answered the phone yelling at him “why are you calling, I told you not to call, I didn’t want to know when they were doing it….” He as calmly as he could, said “ they didn’t put her down.” I said “what?” He said “if you would shut up for a minute, the Veterinarian (who is also the owner) said that he couldn’t do it.” Said that he would volunteer his services as well as the other people in the operating room would volunteer their services. Now in front of me is my young daughter Maria, who is still crying and I am trying to tell her that everything is going to be ok and that Quinnie is gonna live!!! The cat had the surgery and pulled through just fine. She came home Christmas eve day.
After the surgery, my son Matthew for his eighth grade project started the “Quinnie Foundation.” We raised over eight hundred dollars to be used for people who could not afford food or medical supplies for their animals at the hospital. That was three years ago and the cat is still going strong today and we will forever be grateful that on that day - someone cared enough to save our Quinnie. That hospital and everyone in there will forever be our Christmas angels. Ton o’ blessings to ya until next time.
The day we brought Quinnie home Christmas Eve.