We've been to the vet again this evening. The Cat has uveitis in her left eye and has been shuttled back and forth from the vet's since May last year with poorly eye-based traumas. It seems we are getting to the end of the road with treatment and we're on the final roll of the dice before we have to bow to the seemingly inevitable step of our brave kitty having her eye removed to save her any more pain.
O came with me to the vet's tonight. He likes coming - he croons to the Cat whilst she wails in the car, he brings his toy puppy who often gets a bandage and he loves to look at the poster which details (and when I say details, I mean details) the varying consistencies of rabbit poo. Tonight after the solemn appointment with the vet, we were getting back in the car.
O: How many lives do cats have? They have nine, don't they? How many lives will the Cat have left when she has just one eye?
Me: She will have one. Really cats just have one life, but people sometimes say they have nine. What they mean is that cats have nine chances to get out of tricky situations.
O: We only have one life, don't we?
Me: Yes, just one. (I always get a bit twitchy at this point in this type of conversation).
O: It's a long one though. Mummy, I don't want her to have just one eye. I don't want the vet to take it out. She will be sad, she'll look funny, I don't want the vet to take it out...
At this point, O dissolved into sobs and could not be comforted. His sobs joined the cries of the Cat who was sat in the passenger seat in her box. It was rush hour, it was rainy and dark. I gritted my teeth and drove and tried to both soothe the Cat and think of reassuring things to say to O to calm his tears.
It was a fraught journey. When we got home, I took O upstairs along with M and we spent the next fifteen minutes on the PC, looking at cats who only have one eye on an American cat rescue site. It was quite therapeutic for all of us.
I don't want the vet to take it out either...