Dympy

Hello everyone,

My name is Dympy.  I was born on the 28th May 1999.  I have three brothers, Syddy (who has already had his name in lights), Tymmy and Mischief.  I was the runt of the litter.  In fact I did not have my precious sac and my mummy (Whatsit) could not give birth as I was breeched.  Luckily our mummy had a premonition that something was wrong and came home from work at lunch time.  Whatsit had gone into labour but no babies appeared, so mummy rushed Whatsit to the vets, where it was declared that I was dead and an operation would have to be performed to get out my brothers.  Mummy was told to go home and so she left with a heavy heart to return an hour later to be told Whatsit had four healthy babies.  One of the other vets had managed to turn me round and I was able to be born, followed immediately by my brothers. 

I have always been a very small cat and much more timid than my brothers.  I would quickly run and hide when anyone came into the house. 

When I had my operation that little girls have so they cannot have kittens I woke up to find I had nasty stitches in my side.  I was not having that and within a day I had got most of them out.  We had to go back to the vets to be stitched up again.  I did the same thing again, but did not get them all out.  Goodness knows how, says mummy, but my side healed.

One day mummy discovered a lump on one of my hock joints.  She took me to the vets (I do not like vets and it usually takes mummy and her daughter Carey to seek me out and get me struggling into that nasty cat box).  The vet took a sample from my hock and after the results came back it revealed that I had cancer.  (A very nasty disease I believe).  The vets operated, but warned mummy that as it was on the bone, although the tumour had been removed, it was very likely the cancer would return.  I had stitches in my wound.  I had a nasty Elizabethan collar put on so I could not get at my stitches.  That’s what they thought.  All you have to do is reverse round the house very fast until you get that evil collar caught on something and it comes off your head!!  So it was back to the vets to be stitched up again.  Three times I went back and each time there was less skin to stitch.  Carey asked the veterinary nurse to show her how to dress my leg so I did not have to suffer the fear of going back to the vets every other day.  This worked and eventually the leg healed. 

All was well for a year then my leg began to hurt again.  I tried to hide my pain as us cats do.  The pain got worse so I kept biting my hock until it bled and bled.  So it was back to the vets again.  My leg was bandaged and the vets said they would dress the leg again every couple of days.  There was no skin now left to stitch the wound again.  Mummy had already been thinking long and hard about the state I was in.  She asked the vets about the chances of my leg healing up.  The prognosis was not good and the vets thought it could be six months or more.  Mummy said might it never heal and the vets agreed this was indeed very possible.  Mummy asked about having my leg amputated.  The vets thought this was an excellent idea especially as I am so light.  They could not see any problems that I might encounter later. Mummy decided this was the right route for me.  She felt terrible about it and wondered how I would cope.  After the operation I surprised the vets by being wide awake very soon.  Mummy was told I could come home the same day.  Mummy put me in her bedroom, but I was very scared and went and hid in a cupboard which goes back a long way and mummy could not reach me.  I was supposed to have pain relief medication, but as I would not be reached I could not have it.  Mummy came to bed and soon I was in such pain that I came out of my hidey hole and screamed in agony and threw myself around the floor.  Mummy quickly gave me my medication and the pain quickly went away.  I relaxed and was able to go back to sleep.  I took my medication after that. 

I was soon able to get around on three legs with no problem.  I managed to get some of my stitches out again and got an infection in the wound.  I had to have drugs to make me better.  It took a long time, but eventually I was told that there was no infection left.  My wound healed. 

I got better about balancing and now I can run and jump as good as any four legged cat.  I do go outside, but I stay in my garden where it is safe.

Mummy gets worried sometimes as I try to scratch myself with the leg that is no longer there.  It is alright though as she finds where I have the itch and scratches it for me. 

My operation has worked very well for me, despite all the traumas and I am now a much happier cat.  I am more content and have become a lap cat which I was not before.  I can turn just as good as anyone else.  It was a bit difficult at first and I didn't always get the tight turns right, but no problem now.

I hope you have enjoyed my story, and if any readers have a cat who has to have an operation to remove a leg then I say go ahead, your cat will have a happier and fulfilled life just like me with three legs.

Love

Dympy xxxx 

Sadly, Dympy passed away on 5th October 2010. You can read her tribute here

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