We brought Minnie home today and began what is a sobering process of treatment and recovery. I see this is very serious operation, she is doing very well, she will be fine, but recovery will not be quick or simple. We put Minnie in a big dog crate in the living room, then let the dogs in. Red ignored her, Lenore came up to lick her nose, Frieda checked her out carefully (a bit too carefully, I thought). Minnie has to wear a hood for 10 days except when she is eating or being watched – otherwise she goes to lick at the stitches on her stump. She loves attention, is eating heartily, is sleeping quite a bit.
We came home with three different pills – a stool softener, two different kinds of pain-killers. Tomorrow, she returns to the vet to have her morphine patch removed and then back again in ten days to have her stitches out. She will not become a permanent house cat, we are committed to returning her to her life as a barn cat once her leg is healed. Maria set up a healing altar around the crate – crystals, toys for Minnie, a small quilt with a cat on it. She sits on the floor with Minnie, holds her and talks to her.
Maria is a profoundly nurturing person, and I think this will be an important and satisfying experience for her, she is very happy caring for the living things she loves.
Today was an emotional roller-coaster in a way today, lots of different feelings. Much support and good wishes for Minnie, thanks. This is a story animal lovers are eager to hear. I think Minnie is now a major presence at Bedlam Farm and in my head. I have to say a number of my good friends, male and female, were quite shocked that we are spending this money on a barn cat, my farmer friends especially made it clear they would not have done that. The truth is, if you had asked me last week I would have told you the same thing.
The best laid plans and positions get wobbly when you are looking at an animal who is part of your life and it is just so clear they are not ready to leave the world. Some of my decisions about euthanizing animals have been controversial – I still get angry messages about my decision to put Orson down after he bit three people, including a child. I have never regretted that decision, I do not now. When I looked at Minnie in the vet’s office and the vete looked at me, waiting for a decision – surgery and euthanasia – I just did not see an animal that was ready to leave the world.I did see that in Rose and Izzy, it was very clear to me, both were done, ready to go. Minnie, clearly, is not, she is alert and affectionate and fighting to get out and prowl around the bushes and barns. No more trees for her.
I have always believe good deeds are inherently selfish – we do good things for us, always for us, which does not take away or diminish from them. I see how engaged and happy Maria is when she is caring for Minnie, bringing her back to health and life, it feels good to me also, it enriches us as human beings. I always feel pangs when I spent so much money on an animal, I always wonder, as Maria did, if the money should not have gone to a needy child or poor person. Or if we just needed to save it. I know the answer is yes, this is not really something we can afford to do right now. Nor is it something we can afford not to do. It is an issue for philosophers, not writers and artists.
But decisions like this are not make in a vacuum, are not intellectual positions, they are often quite impulsive and emotional. I have no regrets about keeping Minnie alive, just as I have no regrets about killing Orson. I know they are both selfish decisions in their own way, but good and ethical decisions, each from a different end of the spectrum.
Our world has changed. There was a vet in my town some years ago who charge one fee for everything – amputations, surgery, routine visits and check-ups, vaccinations. He charged $4 no matter what. People knew exactly what a visit would cost. Veterinary medicine, like people medicine, has exploded, been corporatized and invaded by pharmaceutical and medical equipment companies, huge overheads and demanding clients. . But I have no beef with the vet or the bill – coming in around $1,700. The surgery was done beautifully, the staff has been loving and attentive and helpful to us. Minnie is doing beautifully. This is our world, and I will not speak poorly of it.
Having animals is wonderful, but not always easy. At no other time in our lives are we asked or permitted to play God, and make life-or-death decisions alone about the things we love and hold dear. It is sometimes wrenching, sometimes rewarding. It is ultimately lonely, and when the time comes, nobody else can stand in our shoes. Nor can we every say in advance what we are sure we will do when the fire comes. That is when life becomes real, and feelings surface that we might not even know we have.
I am grateful for the gift of selfishness.