I love bugs and I adore this bee.
So I just decided to post it.
I guess I should fill in on what happened at the vet's yesterday.
Lacy is only about 10 months old and she is has long black angora fur. She is dainty and demure, but is as independent as can be, and will put up with cuddling for no more than 20 seconds ~ unless she's sick and too tired to care. Then she'll last until she wakes up enough to leave. She always acts as tho she's offended by more than a couple of pats and gives the most pathetic and whiny little meows. Nothing scares her.
I got her at the pound when she was about 5 months old, but she was long and light as a feather. She came into the house like she owned it and bullied Charlie into being her buddy. I don't know what he'd do without her.
So. . . as mentioned before, she was favoring her back leg and it would turn in bizarre angles when she sat down. She didn't seem as tho she was in pain, so I didn't think much of it - oh, except for that whole "it'll be my luck it's cancer or something" because I'm always sure that the stuff I love will be taken from me cuz I'm not worthy. Gee, that was deep.
Anyway, when we went to the vet, Dr. Jenny put her thru the ringer. After she put her on the floor and tried to get her to walk around - yeah, right. Every cat wants to stroll around a terror-smelling vet's exam room. So, the first chance she got, she made it into a little crawley-hidey-hole and the vet had to get down and drag her out. Good start.
Then the mashing began. This woman pushed and pulled every little piece of her back end and basically tried to find a bump or defect - and if she couldn't do that, she wanted to make her yowl or jump. She even warned me to watch out for the front of me if Lacy went nuts.
Finally, she laid her on her side and smooshed her a bit more until Lacy hissed. I have never heard Lacy hiss, so it was clear that she'd had enough. Poor little cat. It's like taking a baby to the doctor and not having a way to explain why you're helping them hurt her.
Turns out that her knee keeps popping out of place. (Yes, she popped both knees in and out to see.) The knee cap is off to the side. But, hey. Let's take x-rays.
That must have been fun for the poor little thing.
After the x-rays, Dr. Jenny took me back and showed me the films. It was so gruesome. It was clear that they had to splay her out flat to film her hips and legs. It looked like they did x-rays of turkey thighs, and I could just picture her skinned like a rabbit. I know that's sick, and it made me want to cry.
But there was the knee cap. Right there on the side of her leg. Where it's not supposed to be. So far, there's no damage to the joint, but it's bound to happen if it's not fixed. And it will get more and more painful, so she'd be miserable and crippled. So we talked about what the surgeon would do and it's awful. I picture this gentle little thing with a tube in her throat.
So I came home from the vet feeling sick and wanting to cry.
Anyway, looooonnnnggg story short, it will cost about $2100, and that's not a great thing for the budget. Mark and I differ on how to handle it, and he can't imagine spending that much on an animal. And I don't know what to do. I mean, I could wait on school so the money could go for the surgery. Or maybe Heavenly Father will bless her and cure her so she can get better and everything can go on as before. But is that selfish? Should I sacrifice if I want to keep her? Am I not sustaining my husband if I want to spend money he doesn't want to spend - and that we need for Sid's and my school? And does Heavenly Father want me to learn how both of those things? I hate this.
But I'm like Charlie. I don't know what I'd do without her.
So. How about that bee picture.
(Photo originally downloaded by bevcraigwhite on flickr.com)
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