A short story by Susan Finlay.
My human mother holds me on her lap and strokes my back, but I can’t purr. She whispers “Poor little girl.” She’s been feeding me water and baby food directly into my mouth because I can’t eat on my own. I know she’s trying to help me. I’m so tired. It’s dark outside. We’re sitting on the sofa, and my human sister is next to us. They take turns holding me and I see pity in their eyes. I close my eyes and try to sleep. I love them, but I don’t want to wake up.
In the morning, Mother picks me up. She carries me out to the car and sets me on my sister’s lap. My human brother is there, too. The car groans and then begins to purr. We’re moving. I try to meow because I don’t like riding in cars. I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.
We go into an office and a man in white pokes and prods at me. He pulls my skin at the back of my neck. I want to hiss, but my throat is too dry. He talks to my humans. Mother cries. The man leaves the room and Mother talks into a telephone. When the man returns, she tells him that my father is coming.
We go into a room with a sofa. Later, my human father and the man in white come in. They talk. I hear my name—Coco. Mother is crying again. I want to tell her it’s all right. I want to go to sleep. I’m too tired to go on.
A few minutes later, a woman picks me up and carries me into a room full of cages. Dogs bark and cats meow. She puts me on a table and the man in white comes in and sticks me with something sharp.
I wake up. I’m in a cage. A dog barks, people talk. I slowly start to feel better. I eat, I drink. But I’m sad. My humans have abandoned me. I meow.
Finally, the woman opens my cage door. She picks me up and carries me into a room. I hear a familiar voice. My human mother smiles and reaches out. I’m in her arms and she’s stroking my back. I purr.
The man in white comes in and gives her a clear bag with one of my cat ballies in it. That’s what my humans call my fuzzy toy balls that I bat around the house. Now I remember. I was playing with my new ball and lying on my back. I tossed it up, and caught it in my mouth. Before I could stop it, the ball slid down my throat.
I’m on my sister’s lap in the car, and I’m wearing a silly blue thing around my neck. She strokes me and speaks to me. I don’t know what she’s saying; it doesn’t matter. I purr all the way home.
14 Comments
Sophie E Tallis said:
August 2, 2013 at 2:41 pm
Oh poor kitty! It’s so dreadfully worrying and heart wrenching when our beloved pets are ill, isn’t it? I say pets, but my two doggies are my boys, I cry uncontrollably like a deranged infant when anything goes wrong with them. I’m SO pleased and relieved that she’s okay now and is on the road to recovery…large of wine needed for the human parents though, methinks! 😀
Susan Finlay said:
August 2, 2013 at 2:46 pm
Thanks, Sophie. It happened about six or seven years ago. She’s been terrified of veterinarian offices since then, but is otherwise very healthy and happy.
franceskaywriter said:
August 2, 2013 at 2:43 pm
ah, where would writers be without our cats? I love this! Hope Coco continues to delight you for years to come. From me and Jasper [king of all the lands hereabouts]
Susan Finlay said:
August 2, 2013 at 2:49 pm
Thanks, Frances. It was horrible, but she recovered and is now very happy. She no longer plays with cat balls. The vet said that cats can easily swallow them by accident. That was the most expensive cat toy we’ve ever bought when you add in the surgery expense.
Jane Risdon said:
August 2, 2013 at 2:57 pm
Oh poor pussy but glad she is better and has learned her lesson….nasty humans being so scarey!
Susan Finlay said:
August 2, 2013 at 2:59 pm
Thanks, Jane. I wish I hadn’t bought her that toy, but she loved playing with those balls. Now, she plays with larger toys and with her cat sister.
Kate Jack said:
August 3, 2013 at 6:34 pm
Poor coco. I was really worried, reading this and so relieved when it ended happily.
Susan Finlay said:
August 3, 2013 at 6:36 pm
Thanks, Kate. This is the first story I’ve ever written in present tense. I did it that way because it seemed necessary under the circumstances.
Jen Christopherson said:
August 5, 2013 at 3:58 pm
Oh! For the love of a kitty! After reading this, I looked around and found some toys that could possibly get lodged in a throat. I tossed them. I’m afraid, my kitties will have to do without their favorite toys! I will find larger ones for them to play with, but I’m not risking them in the meantime! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Susan Finlay said:
August 5, 2013 at 4:50 pm
Hi Jen, I’m glad to hear you got rid of those toys. I know they love them, but they’re better off with bigger toys. I still feel guilty that I bought that little toy ball for Coco.
Jen Christopherson said:
August 5, 2013 at 6:03 pm
It seems they have already forgotten them. My momma’s dog chewed up her tennis ball toy and only half of it remains with pieces of fabric and whatnot poking out. They have begun to play with it as they did the other toys. It’s big enough, without any small parts to fall off, that it doesn’t fit in their mouth all at once. Yet, small enough they can carry it around and play with it.
Susan Finlay said:
August 5, 2013 at 6:07 pm
Yay! Our cats also like to play with a laser mouse. They sell them in the pet department of Target. It looks like a mouse, and when you press a button it shines a red dot that cats love to chase. One of our cats is crazy about her light.
Penny said:
July 18, 2018 at 3:45 pm
I lived with a boyfriends cat (and my favorite dog) – and one time I was watching the cat play with a ball on a bungy type cord that we put on a door knob– I freaked out when I saw him having so much batting it back and forth until it somehow wound around his neck!. Happy I was home. Out that toy went and never again would he have anything like that. I loved that cat and I grew up to hate cats till that one.
susanfinlay said:
July 18, 2018 at 8:49 pm
Wow, I’m glad you were there to rescue the cat. We got rid of all the fuzzy balls like the one our cat swallowed and never allowed our cats to play with them again. The vet told us that they’re very dangerous.