Lost in Space (this may be gross for those with a weak stomach)

No, not meant like the show. I’m just sort of ‘lost’ today. It was an eventful weekend. I was supposed to have gone out with my camera and take pictures of the surrounding countryside for my Facebook and MySpace, but that didn’t happen this weekend. Instead, I stayed home, swam with my nephews, and shopped for costumes for the Writers for New Orleans weekend coming up.

Yesterday was a day to watch some football. Have I mentioned yet that I’m a rabid football fan? I am. My Saints played on Friday night and woot! did a great job. I shout at the television when I’m watching a game, just FYI. Anyway, I watched some football and then the drama started.

My brother was swimming and saw a little kitten hiding out behind our shed. He told my mother, who just ‘can’t stand to see something starve’ and decided to feed the little kitty. Normally I’m the one trying to save every cat or dog that I see, but this time I was innocent. I swear.

In the process of looking over the kitten (which we weren’t planning to keep), we found a small hole on her side. It looked a bit like a bullet wound, which is something we expect from our unsavory neighbors. Upon further inspection, we discovered that the kitten has a hole on her lower belly. A huge, gaping hole that didn’t look like it was doing so hot. Me, being the slightly hot-headed person I am, didn’t even bother to brush my hair or change clothes before I packed up the cat, my mom, and my sister in my car and drove to the emergency animal hospital.

I filled out the paperwork, and because apparently this cat belongs to me now, had to come up with a name for her. My sister came up with ‘Bella’ which was good enough for the time being. Bella was checked out by the vet who pronounced her the sweetest kitty he’s ever seen. Even though he was hurting her while he cleaned the wounds, and she was scared to death (her little furry feet shaking in fear), she purred. She purred and purred and made everyone in the exam room pet her. She’s still a baby, maybe 3 months old at the most, but she’s a tough little cookie. The vet said it wasn’t a bullet wound, that it was most likely that she jumped over something and ripped open her belly which then got infected. She’s going to need stitches, but has to wait so the infection can drain itself.

So, once she was finished being examined, I handed over my credit card and paid the bill, walking out of the hospital with my brand new kitty. Once we got back to the house, I decided she wasn’t a Bella. Discussing it with my sister (who shared my rather sick sense of humor), we decided that the kitten needed to be named after our mother who’s something of a tough broad herself. We couldn’t call her by mom’s real name, so we settled on using her nickname, Cookie.

Cookie settled in, acting like nothing was wrong with her, throwing herself all over the inside of the kennel to get attention, climbing in the bathroom cabinet because that’s where my hands were and she wanted them on her. She’s eating like a horse, purring like a rapid fire machine gun, and is too sweet for words. She has a vet’s appointment on Friday and hopefully they won’t break me completely to sew her up. Here’s our little Cookie:

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