I was a foster volunteer. One night, I received a phone call about a little kitten. We had just had a run of about a week of above normal heat. This lady came home and heard a kitten screaming. She looked over her fence into the land next door, and saw this tiny kitten screaming for help, running and sliding on hot tin, desperate for help.
Luckily this wonderful lady picked this kitten up and was advised to bring her to me. She was so scrawny, so skinny, so tiny, only about 3 weeks old, if that. As I held her up, to our horror we found one of her back legs had been removed just below the knee. We don’t know how, but all she had was a stump. The pain this poor little thing would have been in.
So I immediately started syringe feeding her, she was starving.
The following morning, I was worried. Both my husband and I worked, so feeding this little tyke regularly was going to be difficult. She was a fighter though. I would come home at lunch and give her two syringe meals, after work, and a few times during the night. Unbeknownst to me, my husband was coming home, as well, and feeding her. She was being fed twice as much.
We didn’t even have to put any pressure on the syringe as pod would suck so hard and empty the syringe herself and then scream for more.
We hand raised her, and when she became more agile, she would run around the house, attacking the other cats and enjoying life. The main problem now was her stump which would hurt her if she landed on it, which she would when playing. It broke our hearts to hear her cry in pain.
We had to wait until she was strong enough, and our local vet did an amputation. Pod has never looked back since. Oh and she also is cross eyed, partially blind and has an undershot jaw. Nothing could stop this kitten from surviving.
When the time came to put her up for adoption, my husband said
she had to go to a home where she isn’t allowed outside, she wouldn’t survive. She couldn’t go to a home with kids, they would hurt her. I then asked if he would just like to just keep her.
So pod joined our tribe and has never looked back. My husband named her pod, short for tripod.
Broken hill, Australia
