I am fortunate to love dogs and love the country, my dogs have long paths in the deep woods where they can show me what their lives were meant to be. Many dogs have beautiful lives without paths in the woods, but it has always been a mission of mine to give my dogs the lives of dogs, insofar as it is possible. On the path, Frieda must be kept on a leash, as she is a hunter, she is always looking for pretty. Frieda sometimes reminds me of Lon Chaney in “The Werewolf,” she is a good -hearted creature who can’t help herself when she sees prey – she has to find it and kill it.
Red and Lenore sometimes come with me along, and they are always together, these two, Red acting out the border collie role, Lenore the Lab. Lenore runs up into the woods, Red races along the path, a herding move, and once in awhile, as above, they stop and talk to one another, and then Lenore comes tearing out of the woods and running around in great circles, Red keeping up with her, running sideways, ever the herding dog trying to control movement.
Lenore is always eating offal and leavings on the ground, Red never does, Lenore is always looking for mud and water to roll in, Red avoids the water. Both stay close to me, neither has ever run off, both are a whistle or a shout away. They comb the forest with their noses, collecting the stories of the woods, the stories of nature, living even for a few minutes a day the lives dogs were meant to live. My dogs and paths have always been connected, each to the other, both to me.
Does Minnie have phantom pain in her amputated leg? Tuesday, she took off outside, climbed her wall, navigated through the barn. The last two days have been very different, worrisome to me, Minnie has barely moved. She has eaten but struggled to walk and we have taken her out for very short periods, she does not want to move much, she seems, in some ways, to be deteriorating.
Minnie’s symptoms are in keeping with an animal in pain – she has hunkered down and gathered herself – and many people have asked me if I think Minnie might be suffering from phantom pain. For those who do not know, phantom pain are sensations described as perceptions that an individual experiences relating to a limb or an organ that is no longer part of their body. The term was coined by an American neurologist named Silas Weir Mitchell in 1871. Studying and treating injured Civil War veterans, Mitchell repored that “thousands of limbs were haunting as many good soldiers, every now and then tormenting them.” Other doctors also reported that many patients, long after the amputation is made, many say they still feel pain – sometimes great – in the amputated limb.
This phenomena – feeling pain in legs and arms that are no longer present – is widely reported among returning war veterans.
Neurologists have studied phantom pain for more than a century but are still not certain what causes it or how to treat it, although doctors are certain the pain is very real. Increasingly, doctors are treating it therapeutically rather than will medicine – it seems the brain does not know the limb is gone and continues to transmit powerful feelings through the limb.
When Minnie had her surgery, one of the vets from the Cambridge Valley Veterinary Service called me and asked if I was comfortable with her prescribing pain killers for phantom pain for one month after the surgery. The vet staff was divided – this was a recommendation only, not a prescription that was part of the protocol for amputation surgery. I agreed to pay for the medication, but I was also anxious to get Minnie off of pain killers as soon as possible – they were causing severe digestive trouble and sluggishness, and keeping her from moving around and learning how to use her leg.
The vet said it wasn’t clear if the phantom pain killer was necessary, but we are considering giving it to Minnie now. There is no question phantom pain exists in humans, veterinary doctors are very divided about whether it occurs in animals or whether it ought to be treated separately. I also seems inevitable to me that Minnie would still be very sore and uncomfortable from a major surgery that is just more than two weeks old. I called a prominent researcher at Tufts Veterinary School who has worked with me on my books and he said “the truth is we just don’t know if animals have phantom pain, they can’t tell us and there is no way to be certain, other than to look for the usual symptoms of pain – sleeping, in cats blinking and twitching, obvious discomfort and listlessness.” I am uncomfortable giving barn cats pain killers for any length of time, they will just slow her and her healing down further, Maria and I will have to think about it.
Most farmers would never pay $1,700 for a barn cat amputation, nor would they dream of paying for phantom painkillers, but I am not a farmer and Minnie lives on the boundary between a pet and a farm animal, something many people with pets simply do not understand. I do not regret keeping Minnie alive and treating her leg, but I do feel I am being pushed towards decisions that will transform Minnie into a pet and a house cat, something I did not want to do and would have taken into account had I known of it earlier.
Despite all of the discomfort many of you have with my feelings about it, it is still my wish – and Maria’s – that Minnie return to her life as a barn cat, many people think I am naive for thinking that is feasible, but I haven’t given up on it. Lots of people tell me that animals make their own decisions – when to die, who to adopt, when to come inside. I think those are people decisions, my responsibility, not theirs, and this may, in fact, be naive and unrealistic, we’ll see. It is so easy to lose control of decisions involving animals and medicine.
The truth is I can’t know if Minnie is suffering from phantom pain, no one can, I just have to talk to Maria about it and make the best judgement that we can.
I do not want Minnie to be in pain, so yet another decision to make in this interesting saga of a barn cat and her journey.
Frieda is a lot of dog, a Rottweiler-Shepherd mix who roamed the Adirondacks for several years and who has a commanding presence. Red once lay down on her bed and her roar shook the house, and he has not tried that again. When Frieda plays, she likes to take Lenore’s head in her mouth and shake it a bit – Lenore goes along. Frieda has caught a deer, various raccoons, baby rabbits, skunks and hedgehogs. One of our biggest worries for Minnie was what might happen if Frieda found her in the house – she has always taken off after the barn cats every chance she gets, and she once almost got Mother.
I am learning that cats are different from dogs, they have an imperious nature, a sense of entitlement, I saw this when Flo arrived and simply took over the place. Minnie has begun the same process inside, people in town get a big chuckle out of my insistence that Minnie will stay outside, they are not laughing at me, they are laughing with me. I was more than a bit surprised yesterday to see that Minnie had taken over Frieda’s bed, napping on it as comfortably as if she had been doing it all of her life.
Frieda was shocked, she stared her, her ears went up, she looked at me and Maria for guidance, I didn’t have any. She has found another bed, and today she came over and lay down next to Minnie and her bed and then went to sleep herself. I do not pretend to know what is going on her, I think Frieda is very protective of things once she knows they are part of the household. Maybe that’s what’s happening, or maybe she just met her match finally, a scrappy barn cat with three legs. Life is a wonder and a mystery, animals are not like us.
Minnie’s recovery has entered a different phase, for her, for us. The drama is over, the attack, the surgery, the great pain, the medicines and stitches, now poor Minnie has to begin to adjust to life with three legs, and the last two days have been a struggle for her. She is having trouble walking, keeping her balance, figuring out how to climb, and I think the advent of the cold weather and rain has brought out some pain, she seems much quieter and reluctant to move much.
This phase has brought out the advice-givers and pleaders online who are begging me – us – to keep Minnie inside, especially at night. They assure me in absolutely certain terms that if Minnie is outside, she will be taken by predators like coyotes quickly and savagely. It’s odd, but having lived with barn cats for 15 years, and seen many three-legged ones thrive, I am not sure how people in distant places can know for sure what should and will happen to Minnie. I sure don’t. As always, we will make our own decisions and not argue them over the Internet. People often say that if you put it out there, you are asking for it, and I don’t accept that, I often that say that the challenge of writing online is to share your life, not surrender it. Manners are manners, online or off. I like where I am with this, sharing my life, defining the new boundaries of the digital world.
I have been worried about Minnie, her progress has really stalled, and she is acting as if she were in considerable pain – this sluggishness is characteristic of pain in animals. But it has also been less than three weeks, not a long time for an amputation to heal. Minnie is eating well and is not especially warm, and there is not much to do right now but give her the chance to rest. She was out for several hours this morning, I am going out now to bring her in. I know that Minnie cannot learn what she needs to lean on the sofa, she has to get outside and figure things out. But love is so important. Last night, she sat next to me and then Maria and I got another opportunity to see the healing power of human affection. I think Minnie needs this as much as food.
