Awesome Wife
Our junior cat, rightly named Squeak, who as a kitten 16 months ago wandered up to our front door in the dark, lost an argument with another cat a couple of weeks ago. Joshua noticed that his head was swelling up, but it took us a couple of days to see what Joshua was talking about.
It got bad enough that pus began leaking out, so we drained an enormous amount of pus from the wound, clearly a big bite from another cat, and we got some more the next day. Things appeared to be looking up. But Friday it was hurting him a lot, and Gayle decided to take him to the vet. As she got off the freeway off-ramp, the truck died, and she grabbed Squeak and left the truck. By the time I got there, the cops were about to take the truck away, because Gayle had left no note on it. I barely averted that, but not without having to overpay for a tow.
In the meantime, Squeak, who had been terrified in the truck, escaped from Gayle and ran off into the rosemary bushes across the street from the vet.
Nothing availed to get him back. Gayle saw him once and called him, and he fled immediately. We made several trips back there, and a woman who loves cats came by and lent us a trip, which we baited unsuccessfully several times. Finally, Gayle determined to sleep in the bushes Friday night.
The boys gave her a lot of crap. I knew she had to try, because she couldn't live with herself not to. But I was a complete dishrag. I had no hope, and I was no help. All she got out of me was that I didn't interfere.
About 3 in the morning, Gayle called to say she had recovered Squeak. She was crying, and groaning to God about her stupidity, and how could she live with herself with her stupidity having caused her to lose him? Squeak began to squeak excitedly in the bushes, and then he ran to her and jumped up on her. She put a leash on him and tied him to the steering wheel - no taking stupid chances this time - and she gathered her gear and came home.
Meantime, Squeak's wound had largely healed while he was in the bushes, so he didn't go to the vet anyway.
The truck needs a head gasket, which will be another $800 or so when we're done, but as I said to the mechanic, where are we going to find another decent truck for $800?
Poopsie was tough, and her faith got what she needed from God. I was a useless dishrag, and got schooled in the importance of being more gracious to my fellow dishrags.
It got bad enough that pus began leaking out, so we drained an enormous amount of pus from the wound, clearly a big bite from another cat, and we got some more the next day. Things appeared to be looking up. But Friday it was hurting him a lot, and Gayle decided to take him to the vet. As she got off the freeway off-ramp, the truck died, and she grabbed Squeak and left the truck. By the time I got there, the cops were about to take the truck away, because Gayle had left no note on it. I barely averted that, but not without having to overpay for a tow.
In the meantime, Squeak, who had been terrified in the truck, escaped from Gayle and ran off into the rosemary bushes across the street from the vet.
Nothing availed to get him back. Gayle saw him once and called him, and he fled immediately. We made several trips back there, and a woman who loves cats came by and lent us a trip, which we baited unsuccessfully several times. Finally, Gayle determined to sleep in the bushes Friday night.
The boys gave her a lot of crap. I knew she had to try, because she couldn't live with herself not to. But I was a complete dishrag. I had no hope, and I was no help. All she got out of me was that I didn't interfere.
About 3 in the morning, Gayle called to say she had recovered Squeak. She was crying, and groaning to God about her stupidity, and how could she live with herself with her stupidity having caused her to lose him? Squeak began to squeak excitedly in the bushes, and then he ran to her and jumped up on her. She put a leash on him and tied him to the steering wheel - no taking stupid chances this time - and she gathered her gear and came home.
Meantime, Squeak's wound had largely healed while he was in the bushes, so he didn't go to the vet anyway.
The truck needs a head gasket, which will be another $800 or so when we're done, but as I said to the mechanic, where are we going to find another decent truck for $800?
Poopsie was tough, and her faith got what she needed from God. I was a useless dishrag, and got schooled in the importance of being more gracious to my fellow dishrags.
posted by Peter Attwood at 10/16/2011 09:06:00 PM
2 Comments:
what should you have done?
Maybe nothing different, as far as the doing is concerned. But what counts is what showed up in me when tested. When something comes to light in incidents like these, it may be that nothing else could have been done anyway, but that's a separate question. Nobody could prevent Jesus from being crucified, but some wanted to and did what they could, and others did other things. That they couldn't have done anything to stop it excuses their failure to act, but not the intent of their hearts. We're deceiving ourselves when we figure there's no issue just because we couldn't do anything anyway.
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