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Exploding Eyeball.

May 31, 2012

I saw one today.

But let me back up….

A couple of months ago a very skinny and dirty grey and white cat with the most amazing green eyes showed up on our porch. I fed him and the kids started calling him Hodge. He was a sweet cat, always ready for a pat, and constantly meowing. He made a bed out of the woodpile on the porch.

When I took the dogs out he would rub against them and smack the Cattle Dog in the head when she was too annoying. Hodge and our resident cat Burrito…who was a kitten that came from another stray (his mom now lives with my mother in law) were built in playmates. Burrito annoys our older cats, but Hodge was more than happy to play.

Once Hodge even found himself treed by the chickens…

While I was in Dominican Republic, something happened to him. My mother in law had stayed with the kids while we were gone, and when we got home she told me that something got Hodge’s eye.

He showed up eventually, and his eyeball had been seriously injured. He had no other injuries, so I’m assuming he raided the wrong bird nest, or got too close to the rooster.  I wasn’t able to get him straight into the vet, and he was behaving fine, still eating, and still affectionate-even though I wasn’t feeling the affection. He looked like a zombie cat. Big, red swollen orb, with fur matted on it, blood and fluid leaking out.

The next day he showed up, and it looked better…and then he disappeared for a few days.

This morning I was able to catch him and put him in the carrier to go to the vet.  The vet said his eye was clearly ruptured, and when she tried to move the hair his eyeball exploded. Literally.  Fluid SHOT across the exam table, and all over the vet.

Eyeballs gross me out. I worked at a Vet office before, and I could handle anything gross, hot spots with maggots, abscesses, stirring poo in a cup to do a fecal slide to check for worm eggs. No big deal. Eyeballs…big deal.  When I see a bad injury, or am seriously grossed out, I start laughing.  I laughed while tears streamed down my cheeks. Thankfully the vet knows me enough and my background to not think I’m deranged. She laughed at me and offered me some water.

Anyway, I opted for the eyeball removal surgery, since it was either that or put him down.  Mind you, my camera died and I am just starting up a photography business, and the surgery is almost as much as the camera I am saving for.  I never knew an eyeball could be so pricey.

Logically, this really makes no sense to me. He is a stray that hangs out and I feed. I have no real attachment to him but I CANNOT put him down. Yet, I need to buy a camera soon as I have several jobs to get done. I had to analyze this because it’s what I do.

My conclusion is:

I’m tired of death.  My mom died two years ago, my older brother died three years ago, we put our 11-year-old Lab down last year, my extended family has had some serious health scares, including being in a highly precarious life or death situation.  He is a cat, but he is a young, healthy cat and since he is here I feel some responsibility for him. Hodge is helpless.  Also, my daughter has tried to raise money for him. She is 8. Her passion is amazing and she has told everyone about Hodge and his eye since it happened…and then hitting them up for money. So far she has raised $40.  I can’t come home and say, “Sorry, I didn’t want to pay the money and I euthanized him” and then look in her big brown eyes.  Or my middle son who dutifully made the drawing to go with the collection jar, and named the cat.

The camera can wait, and we will have a one-eyed cat.  It is only money and can be made again.

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