![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Yep, I'm feeling proud today, and of myself to boot.
What a thing to say.
Among my many feline protégés, there's a youngish red tom who waits for me at the Embassy every morning. He doesn't belong to the neighbour but is a real stray. He's been coming regularly for about two months; in the beginning he was very shy and didn't let me touch him, but we've proceeded to stroking and scritching and head-butting. His left eye has been inflamed for about ten days -- at first I thought it might go away on its own, but let's face it, street cats muck around in dustbins and other insalubrious surroundings. So yesterday I wrote the vet a text message asking him what I should buy at the pharmacy. He responded promptly, and I went to buy antibiotic salve and drops just as promptly.
And now for the pride bit: the tom actually allowed me to put the salve on his eye -- a street cat who two months ago didn't even allow me to touch him.
I'll have to do it on the weekend, too -- he'll certainly be waiting for me, weekends being a concept alien to cats -- and since it's already looking better today, I'm confident I'll manage to save the eye. Life on the streets is dangerous for a one-eyed cat, after all, and I'm sure it also hurts, besides looking pretty ghastly.
Funny, isn't it, that I used to dream of becoming a vet when I was a girl. I gave up on it because I'm mortally afraid of dogs (well, not any more, but I used to be for most of my life) and cows, but it's nice to think I would've made quite a good vet.
What a thing to say.
Among my many feline protégés, there's a youngish red tom who waits for me at the Embassy every morning. He doesn't belong to the neighbour but is a real stray. He's been coming regularly for about two months; in the beginning he was very shy and didn't let me touch him, but we've proceeded to stroking and scritching and head-butting. His left eye has been inflamed for about ten days -- at first I thought it might go away on its own, but let's face it, street cats muck around in dustbins and other insalubrious surroundings. So yesterday I wrote the vet a text message asking him what I should buy at the pharmacy. He responded promptly, and I went to buy antibiotic salve and drops just as promptly.
And now for the pride bit: the tom actually allowed me to put the salve on his eye -- a street cat who two months ago didn't even allow me to touch him.
I'll have to do it on the weekend, too -- he'll certainly be waiting for me, weekends being a concept alien to cats -- and since it's already looking better today, I'm confident I'll manage to save the eye. Life on the streets is dangerous for a one-eyed cat, after all, and I'm sure it also hurts, besides looking pretty ghastly.
Funny, isn't it, that I used to dream of becoming a vet when I was a girl. I gave up on it because I'm mortally afraid of dogs (well, not any more, but I used to be for most of my life) and cows, but it's nice to think I would've made quite a good vet.
