Fair Warning: there are some images of an injured kitten in this post that some may find disturbing. Don’t worry though, it all turns out okay!
“What is that in the neighbor’s driveway?”
“Where?”
“Over there, across the road. That little black lump.”
“That looks like a kitten.”
I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of the “Cat Distribution System” meme before this incident. If you’re not familiar, it’s the idea that cats have a way of just showing up at random and becoming part of a human’s family usually when said human is least expecting it. I may not have known it, but I’ve been…blessed?…by the System many times over my life. It also seems to know that our home is a good candidate for the more involved cases, and this little black kitten-lump was certainly one of those. I hastily grabbed a blanket and marched out the front door and across our street to the neighbor’s back driveway. Just a heads up, if there’s an animal in need, I do not give a single fuck about how I look trying to help it. I will trespass. I will climb trees. I will stop traffic. No regrets.
I was prepared for the kitten to be a feisty feral, so I knew not to hesitate when I lay the blanket over top of him and picked him up. But to my surprise, I didn’t have to wrangle a spring-loaded ball of fur and claws…there was no reaction at all to my calculated ambush. This weak, emaciated little babe looked to be maybe 8 weeks old, and at first I wasn’t even sure he was alive. His eyes were crusted shut, the fur around his head and neck was crispy, and the skin on his lower jaw had been degloved. The first thing I did was wipe away the discharge covering his face with the blanket, revealing, behind his half-closed third eyelids, a pair of beautiful gold eyes. I brought him back across the street to the house, already pulling my phone from my pocket to call the vet and let them know I’d be on my way.
His temperature at the clinic was 94 degrees Fahrenheit. My dear readers, the normal body temperature for a cat is between 100 and 102.5. For context, it was the end of June, hot and sunny. This baby’s body was actively shutting down. The vet, who I had previously worked with for over 8 years at the same practice, let me know that any kitten she’s seen come in this cold did not make it through a night. I honestly expected that this ordeal might end in humane euthanasia, but I also didn’t want to jump to it. As we discussed the situation, I squirted some water from a syringe into the palm of my gloved hand, and the kitten started to drink from it. I swear it felt like a door opened up in my chest, rays of golden light bursting forth, and little tendrils from my heart reached out and wrapped around that pitiful baby. I wouldn’t be surprised if an angel got its wings in that moment. Shit. Now I love him.
“If he were to die, would you expect it to be a painful sort of passing, or would he just kind of slip away?” I asked.
“I would expect him to just slip away,” the vet answered.
“Then I think I want to give him a chance.”
A plan was set to leave the baby at the vet for the afternoon to receive some fluids and get warm, then I would bring him home for the night to be monitored and syringe-fed every three hours. I returned at closing time and met with the vet again. She examined the kitten further once he was admitted and discovered that the crusty stuff on his fur was actually super glue, and when they clipped it away, they found bite wounds underneath. Someone knew this baby had been attacked by a larger animal and sloppily super glued the wounds shut. My guess is that once they realized that didn’t fix anything, they abandoned him outside to die alone. Out of sight, out of mind it seems.
My first reaction was one of disgust and anger. In my area of New England there is no shortage of veterinary practices, rescues and shelters along with several programs for financial aid to pay vet bills. Worst case, some vets will humanely euthanize a suffering animal at no cost. So, while I get that people can lack personal resources and education and maybe this was the ‘best’ this person felt they could do…it also shows a lack of empathy, responsibility and foresight which I have a hard time understanding in this age of information. All it takes is one search on a smartphone.
I showed so much restraint in expressing that - thanks, therapy!
So, baby kitten made it through the night, and we named him Lazarus (the biblical myth was a coincidence in our choosing of the name, but very fitting). We brought him back to the clinic the next morning to be rechecked, and the vet found another glued-shut wound on his neck, directly over his carotid artery. Lazarus came so extremely close to an instant death with that attack it was remarkable. The next week was basically intensive home nursing for the little guy - keeping him warm, feedings every 3 hours, cleaning and applying lubricant to his exposed chin tissue, administering eye drops for the conjunctivitis, and he was so brave and cooperative for all of it. I brought him to work with me to keep up with his care (my supervisor may not have been thrilled but I couldn’t have cared less; again, I’ll do All The Things for the sake of helping an animal,). The only hiccup was when one of the bites on the top of his head abscessed, but we caught it quickly and he was treated at another vet visit.
For the majority of the first couple of weeks, little Lazarus mostly slept, his tiny body working hard to recuperate. He was wobbly and weak on his feet, his little meow had no sound, and he actually seemed to not be able to hear. But he was now eating and drinking on his own and little by little he started to Kitten again. A quiet purr and some kneading with his adorably big polydactyl paws one day, a mini play session with a catnip toy the next. An adorable little squeak or two started to come out when his little jaws opened to meow. He began showing interest in exploring his surroundings, and was soon tumbling around with our newest puppy in the house. Once he was strong enough, he had surgery to reattach the flap to his chin. Over this time his hearing seemed to come back (the hypothesis is temporary disruption of his hearing function from head trauma). And, of course we decided to keep him. I mean, baby makes 10, right??
As Lazarus’ coat got healthier and the fur over his wounds grew back, he was peppered (salted?) with white hairs, a striking contrast against the rest of his black coat. I learned that this can happen as a result of systemic stress or injury, and it wasn’t permanent, as cool as it looked. What was permanent was the little bit missing from Laz’s lower lip, slightly exposing his teeny bottom teeth. I’d call that a pretty great outcome after having his entire chin torn away and to be honest it only adds to his charm. What a little badass.
Now just over two years old, Laz has grown into glorious, sleek house panther. He’s affectionate, silly, and strong and we love the hell out of him. Whoever abandoned him missed out on an amazing companion, and while he didn’t deserve a single second of what he went through, I’m so proud that the result was being able to call this uniquely handsome sweetheart ours. Thanks again, Cat Distribution System!
If you think Lazarus is as special as we do, go ahead and subscribe, because he and the rest of my babies will be featured in subscriber-only articles! Thanks for reading!