The cat with post-traumatic stress syndrome

I have this cat (let's just call him Brink) who is suffering difficulties. He is a very, very, large cat with long hair and tabby coloring. He apparently suffers from post-traumatic stress and I am thinking on sending him on a cat sabbatical.

Some background on "Brink". We obtained Brink from outside of a Wal-Mart a few years ago. Me and my now ex-husband were leaving the store after compulsively shopping. We spotted a little girl sitting on a folding chair with a box on the ground in front of her. There were kittens in the box. After Oooing and Ahhing awhile, I had the bright idea, of obtaining a kitten for the kids for Christmas. The main point of the pet thing was always to help teach the children responsibility and make me a popular family member. (at the time we already had 2 dogs and guinee (sp?) pigs which had done nothing to accomplish the responsibility factor) For whatever reason, I did not remember that cats usually live about 18 years.

Fast forward a few years. I am now divorced and the cat lives with me and my very pregnant daughter. Since she is pregnant, she of course, can not change the litter box, etc. My thought has always been that with pets, when kids get married or leave for college, etc. they should take the pets WITH THEM. That is an example of a stupid parent thought. I should be grateful I at least, did not inherit the guinea pigs (a sad story, they expired under traumatic circumstances) I was the one to find there not quite dead limp bodies, another story) or the dogs. (One went to live with the ex's girlfriend and the other escaped to I am sure greener pastures)

I digress. One night while packing to move, (my kids were already out of state) I heard this unholy screeching noise. I ran outside and there was the cat standing by the parking lot with his back arched making this horrible sound. There was a car parked nearby with some laughing teenagers inside. I immediately made the assumption that they had attacked or molested the cat. The cat at this time was a very sensitive subject between me and my children. I have never made a secret about my feeling towards pets in general. I like them, they are nice as long as someone else feeds them, pets and cleans their waste products. My pregnant daughter was convinced that I was somehow going to do away with this cat so I would not have to move him. (Ok, I know right now you are thinking unpleasant thoughts about my previous pet dealings, meaning the guinea pigs. You think I murdered them right? Wrong. I tried to save those pigs short of performing mouth to mouth resuscitation (sp?) on them.)

I ran up to the kids in the car and immediately begin to scream at them. "What did you do to my Cat? (did I mention it was about 1:00 in the morning) I went to the apartment they lived in and began to bang on the door demanding to speak to their father. They meanwhile ran in and locked the door acting as if they thought I had lost my mind.

I momentarily gave up on my qwest for justice and ran inside where the cat was. He had this horrible, indescribable cat look on his face. I didn't know what had happened to him but I knew it was traumatic. He was having a hard time walking and was shaking his head every few minutes. I didn't want to spend MONEY on him, especially since I was going to be moving in a few days. I called the Vet er and asked them questions and agonized. I called my friend Sharon who kept asking me if he was panting with his mouth open (?). The next day, I called work and told them I was going to be late. I was convinced those kids had run over the cat or accosted him in some horrible manner and that he was going to die. Brink had outgrown his cat carrier a loooooong time ago(I did buy one the next day for the move) , so I wrapped him in a towel. (I read online this was a good way to transport pets to the vet?) (This cat is the same cat that WALKS across my face or jumps over my head when I am asleep in order to wake me up if I do not respond to the alarm clock. He is not a calm mellow cat) I put him in the car and drove him to PetSmart. THey did not have a vet in so I took them to the Vet er. While on the way to the er, the cat starts panting with his mouth open. I am crying and freaking out remembering my friend's questions from the night before (Is he panting with his mouth open?) Convinced he was going to die in the car while we were driving, I went speeding recklessly down the road. We get to the vet and they calmly announce there is nothing wrong with the cat but question my care of the cat since he has hair balls (does anyone else have a cat that gets hair balls? I periodically have to shave his hair because it gets so long it mats, and no, this does NOT mean no one pets the cat. My daughter totes him around like he is a baby.) Indignantly I stated that I was AWARE of the cat balls, since I am the one who has to bath the freak from time to time and shave his hair. THe doctor then pointed out as if Iwere the most horrible person in the world, that cats hate water and she would never bathe her cat. (excuse me, his hair is so long it gets poop on it sometimes and he LIKEs baths) Ok they apparently think I am this crazy woman who took time off from work and out of her day to brink this huge 30 pound cat to them. I advised them that SOMETHING bad happened to this cat and that I thought he had been run over. I told them about the evil laughing teenagers. I told them about the panting with the mouth wide open. The doctor (in all her wisdom looked to be maybe 25) had NEVER HEARD OF EVIL LAUGHING TEENAGERS that attacked cats, especially girl teenagers. (they were female ok) She was not impressed with the panting with the mouth open. They offered to take xrays (my total bill by this time was already $180 for them to tell me nothing was wrong.

I declined their offer and prepared to take the cat home to die. I went back out to the reception area to pay while they wrapped up whatever they were doing with my cat. They then, apparently having second thoughts about my sanity, re-checked the cat. The dr found a swollen abcess on the cats face from a cat fight. (Why it swelled up so fast, with no blood, I have no clue) They shave the area, gave me antibiotics ($40 more) and sent us home.

I took magazines to the neighbors teenagers and sheepishly apologized. My friend Sharon expressed relief that she had not taken my cat to her house. (she had offered, she has a million pets and is involved in animal rescue) SHe then told me, based on my hysterical description of the cat's behavior, (the weird cat expression, trouble walking, shaking his head, etc.,) she had planned to take my cat and euthanize it. The cat and I drove 1500 miles the next week as we migrated to our new home in the South. (that is another horrible story)

Now the post traumatic stress thing. Poor Brink is only just now some two months later beginning to slowly recover. He is a shadow of his former self. He no longer waaaaalks across my face. The cat refuses to go outside more than a few minutes at the time and only if I am with him. He still shakes his head from time to time with an odd look on his face. And, yes I do still have to bathe him from time to time (2 days ago) (Where are those kids who are supposed to care for the pets until their demise, in sickness and in health till death do they depart). Did I mention wanting to send the cat on a sabbatical? That was just wishful thinking.

Final Note:
Anyone who knows my friend Sharon knows she is a consumate animal lover. She participated in an animal rescue effort after one of the fires Arizona had last year, and area vets sometimes send her animals for "foster care". She cries when she reads a book and an animal dies, maybe not so much when the human goes. She would not have really euthanized my cat unless it were absolutely necessary.