So, my cat jumps out the window...
"Your cat jumped out the window."
Haha... very funny.
"No, really. Your cat jumped out the window.
Spontaneous crying begins. "Is he dead?!"
No, he's not dead. He was running around in the neighbors place and they rang the..."
I take off down the hallway in search of the cat. He's chilling on the couch looking a little confused. He doesn't normally hang out on the couch, either. I wipe my eyes and grab the cat, see blood on his mouth. I start sobbing. Boyfriend is standing in the doorway looking guilty.
This morning when boyfriend said he was going to open the window, I had no clue that he was going to open the window all the way, as there are three cats in the apartment and we have iterated that we don't leave windows without screens open because, well, cat's aren't smart enough to not jump out the fucking window. I continue to cry, wipe my eyes again and grab the cat. I notice his front teeth are cracked. He had this cute little overbite before, and now it's a half overbite. "We need to take him to the emergency vet... when the fuck did this happen?"
"I don't know... an hour ago?"
I am trying my hardest not to be accusatory, but it was sort of hard given the circumstances. I take a deep breath, go Google some emergency vets, call the first address I recognize and hop in a cab over there. Neither of us have any cash on us, so the cab drops us off at the corner and I start hauling ass up the street toward the emergency hospital with the cat in the cardboard box from the pound, boyfriend goes to the bank to get cash. Halfway up the street, the bottom of the box falls out.
I'm staring at this poor stupid cat on the sidewalk. I'm stunned and helpless for about as long as it takes me to realize that I need to catch the cat before he makes a run for it. Two ladies walking down the street see the whole thing and help me try and corner him in a doorway. We're right next to Burger King and the doors are wide open.
My cat ran into the Burger King and promptly hid under the soda machine, which is about 5 feet deep. He's scared shitless and crying and he won't come out and I can't reach him. At that point I don't know what to do but sit on the floor and cry some more. The ladies are also at a loss, and leave but shut the doors to BK. I realize that something has to be done finally and that sitting on the floor of Burger King crying isn't getting my cat out and is probably unsanitary.
I explain to the BK employee where I was heading when this happened, and ask him to just keep an eye on him and I'm going to go get the vet people to help get him out of there. He agrees and I haul ass up the street, finding my boyfriend, to the vets. Two ladies come down from the vet and fish the cat out with a net, but it's not easy.
Finally, back in the box and at the vet. Vet comes in and is giving the cat the exam... "This guys name is Baxter (not real name)?"
"No. Super Baxter."
Vet pulls a piece of a tooth out of his mouth and thank god, other than landing on his face and cracking a few teeth, the cat seems OK. They drug him up and $133 later and on our way home, with a list of vet referrals and the knowledge that my cat is probably going to need a root canal or extraction.
Yeah, I know. Who would have thought animals get root canals?
By the way, under the soda machine in the BK was fucking filthy. Like MUDDY. So I now have a dirty, stoned and injured cat who also got scared enough to take a crap in the cardboard box (which the vet people so kindly taped up for us). I give the cat a quick bath and then go get him wet food, since he ain't eating the crunchy stuff again anytime soon.
So if you happened to have seen a crazy girl running around Burger King yesterday, it's just cause my cat jumped out the window and landed on his face.
If you happen to be one of the two ladies that helped me try to corner him - THANK YOU SO MUCH, I know I seemed totally nuts (and I was) but I'm sure without you guys he would have taken off into the street or worse.
Also, muchas gracias to the two aides at the vet who fished him out from under the soda machine like it was something that happened every day. It takes serious dedication to your job to lay down on the Burger King floor without a second thought.
And in case any of you are wondering, I'm not mad at my man. It was an accident (which, agreed, could have been avoided easily) but he's got two cats of his own so it wasn't one of those viscious 'boyfriend-attacks-cat' stories that we all love so much. He did however, learn a lesson about open windows and stupid cats.