Everyone who's ever been to my house has probably met "Norman". Who's Norman? He's my cat. He's.....special. Very special. Why? Well, let's back up a bit in the story to tell you his background. Norman came to us as a barn cat, along with his brother, Baghera. Baghera was like a dog. He was one of the best cats I've ever been around. Followed you everywhere, jumped on the bobcat and rode next to you while you threw hay, and loved cuddling in your hoodie sweatshirt pocket. Unfortunately, he loved everyone and we think he jumped in someone's car from the weekend and went home with them. Bye bye Baghera. So we were left with Norman and our other two cats, Manuella and Irving. One day I went down to feed and I found a trail of blood on the barn floor. I traced it first towards the tack room and found a pool of blood in the corner, but no source. So I followed the trail the other way and found a very scared kitten, Norman. I scooped him up, put him in a bucket and on up to Amie's house I went. We cleaned him up and found that most of his injuries were to his neck/head area. I took him to my house to recuperate but he grew weaker each day until he couldn't stand on his own, eat, or drink. He shook and wobbled and he had a pocket of infection in his neck area. I took him into the vet expecting that he would probably not survive. They gave me some antibiotics but their fear was that he was already neurological and that hope was slim. I took him home and began nursing him. He couldn't stand up or eat or drink. So I bought canned food and fed him bits at a time. I used a dropper to give him water. And I changed the towels in my laundry basket twice a day as that was his home. I kept thinking each day that he wouldn't last. That I was doing it for naught. But at some point, and I don't know when, he started to recover. Little by little, day by day. And eventually he was let loose around the house, although his ability to use a litter box was questionable. He walked around with his head cocked to the left all the time. He couldn't jump well so I had to lift him onto the dryer for him to eat. He ran frantically around the house, either chasing something or running from something. He has obsessive compulsive tendencies (ex. scratching the side of the tub for minutes at a time) and he's usually scared to death of everything. And he's mostly deaf. He drives me nuts when he knocks over stuff, Duke and Seuss have to be so patient with him as he likes to surprise attack them for no reason at all, and I wonder why I keep him. First off, he's got no where to go. He'd never survive the outside world and no one would probably want him with all his quirks. The two times he's gotten out of the house and been gone for days.....I worried so much even though the house was so calm without him in it. Even though he's scared of everything and everyone, he is really a love bug. When I sit down, he likes to nestle down into the crook of my arm and he'll stay there until I move. He spends every night on my bed and sometimes I'll wake up and he'll be right next to my head or curled up in the same manner I am. He'll always have a home with me, he'll always be safe. My furniture and knick knacks may not survive him, but I will.
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| Playing Angry Birds with me |
Everyone who's ever been to my house has probably met "Norman". Who's Norman? He's my cat. He's.....special. Very special. Why? Well, let's back up a bit in the story to tell you his background. Norman came to us as a barn cat, along with his brother, Baghera. Baghera was like a dog. He was one of the best cats I've ever been around. Followed you everywhere, jumped on the bobcat and rode next to you while you threw hay, and loved cuddling in your hoodie sweatshirt pocket. Unfortunately, he loved everyone and we think he jumped in someone's car from the weekend and went home with them. Bye bye Baghera. So we were left with Norman and our other two cats, Manuella and Irving. One day I went down to feed and I found a trail of blood on the barn floor. I traced it first towards the tack room and found a pool of blood in the corner, but no source. So I followed the trail the other way and found a very scared kitten, Norman. I scooped him up, put him in a bucket and on up to Amie's house I went. We cleaned him up and found that most of his injuries were to his neck/head area. I took him to my house to recuperate but he grew weaker each day until he couldn't stand on his own, eat, or drink. He shook and wobbled and he had a pocket of infection in his neck area. I took him into the vet expecting that he would probably not survive. They gave me some antibiotics but their fear was that he was already neurological and that hope was slim. I took him home and began nursing him. He couldn't stand up or eat or drink. So I bought canned food and fed him bits at a time. I used a dropper to give him water. And I changed the towels in my laundry basket twice a day as that was his home. I kept thinking each day that he wouldn't last. That I was doing it for naught. But at some point, and I don't know when, he started to recover. Little by little, day by day. And eventually he was let loose around the house, although his ability to use a litter box was questionable. He walked around with his head cocked to the left all the time. He couldn't jump well so I had to lift him onto the dryer for him to eat. He ran frantically around the house, either chasing something or running from something. He has obsessive compulsive tendencies (ex. scratching the side of the tub for minutes at a time) and he's usually scared to death of everything. And he's mostly deaf. He drives me nuts when he knocks over stuff, Duke and Seuss have to be so patient with him as he likes to surprise attack them for no reason at all, and I wonder why I keep him. First off, he's got no where to go. He'd never survive the outside world and no one would probably want him with all his quirks. The two times he's gotten out of the house and been gone for days.....I worried so much even though the house was so calm without him in it. Even though he's scared of everything and everyone, he is really a love bug. When I sit down, he likes to nestle down into the crook of my arm and he'll stay there until I move. He spends every night on my bed and sometimes I'll wake up and he'll be right next to my head or curled up in the same manner I am. He'll always have a home with me, he'll always be safe. My furniture and knick knacks may not survive him, but I will. 
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