Just Call Him Crooktail

Rascal, one of our two cats, broke his tail today while we were at work. I figure it happened one of two ways, either he didn’t make the jump up onto the kitchen countertop and landed on it, or the dog got a little too physical while they were playing (they do that, it’s quite amusing watching them chase each other around).

I came home, hopped on the computer and started checking email. The cat jumped up on the desk, as he always does, and sat right in front of the monitor. I picked him up to put him back on the floor and he howled like I was killing him. It was quite startling. As he was scampering away I noticed that his tail was down and not moving around nearly as much as usual. I tried to get a look at it, but every time my hands got close to the base of his tail, he’d twist away. I knew something was up. I watched him a bit more and the more I watched the more obvious it was that there was a problem. So when Tasha came home we bundled him into the cat carrier and took him to the veterinary clinic.

We were there for almost three hours. It cost almost $400. And much to my disappointment, the cat didn’t get a tail cast. Wouldn’t that have just been amusing as hell! Apparently, they can’t do much with a broken tail except x-ray it and give you some pain medicine that the animal will fight-like-hell to not take. Whatever the case, he broke the tail behind the hips and as such there are no other problems, just a funny crook in his tail from now on.

What we wouldn’t do for our animals. Later.