Apparently our pet quota has not been satisfied and/or God just likes to mess with me.
My dad's truck broke down near our house so he parked it here for a few days. After being fixed my dad went to start it and we heard a terrible horrible sound coming from the engine and saw what we thought was smoke coming out. Turns out, it was not smoke, it was gray fur and the sound was a screaming cat. I think we all almost lost our lunches. My dad quickly turned the engine off and my mom and I, not being able to handle seeing what we thought would be bloody cat parts everywhere ran in the house. David, man of strong stomach and the bravest one of the bunch looked to see what the damage was. The cat was stuck in the fan housing of the truck and only its tail was visible. He tried to coerce it out with food and water but it wouldn't budge. The poor thing was probably incredibly petrified. I know we were. We left the hood open all day in hopes that it would come out on its own. It did not. So David took apart the housing and pulled the cat out, thankfully, intact.
We gave it food and water and kept it in the garage for a few days while we figured out what to do with it. It had to stay in the garage, not because we are mean pet owners but because I am incredibly deathly allergic to cats. I've had to move out of apartments, even after new carpet was installed, because previous owners, even from years prior, had cats.
Anyhoo, after a couple days of the cat not eating we decided to take it to the vet. David was sick so I was the lucky gal chosen to be cat saver that day. Londyn went with me to hold it so I wouldn't die.
The vet checked her out and found some gashes, one on her paw and one on her neck. He cleaned her up, gave her antibiotics and a cone of shame. I guess it's true they have nine lives? Half a box of kleenex, several shots of asthma spray and 82 dollars later we were on our way home with our stupid semi-damaged stray cat. Londyn volunteered to be caretaker and has since been keeping "Karma" in her room for the last week. I don't know what we are going to do with her. The kids are all getting attached to her. She seems to be nice enough. But, grrrr, I don't want any more pets. Especially not ones that could potentially kill me. We've asked several neighbors if they lost a cat. No luck.
Should we take her to the pound? That seems cruel after what she's been through.
Open the front door and see if she wants to leave?
Or should I just suck it up and keep the damn thing?
I do not like thee cone of shameMeh.
What would you do?
