Cat fight

My famous last words may have to be "All's well that ends well." Because despite the end of my blog late yesterday, the Sylvester's Great Escape episode has not come to a conclusion yet.

We noticed throughout the day and evening that she wasn't her usual playful self yet. She still was basically finding new spots on our bedroom floor to nap. Although I didn't personally see her move, I knew she was getting around -- she just hadn't ventured up on any of her window perches (i.e. Jim's dresser) like she normally does.

When Jim got home from Las Vegas around 1 a.m., kitty had gone missing again. We finally found her deep in his closet, but she didn't come out to greet him -- which was unusual, too. Later, she came by the bed and Jim lifted her up. She let out a loud meow and eventually jumped off the bed -- but with a slow, deliberate motion.

Jim said he wondered if she was hurt. I had felt along her legs earlier and she didn't hiss or howl, so I figured she was OK. This morning, after seeing her walk gingerly down the hall, we decided we better get her to the vet. Jim took her in while I got Carter to his soccer game.

Turns out, Sylvester got into a cat fight during her wild night out. She has the bite mark to prove it. She was also running a bit of a temp, too. So she got a shot of penicillin and some pain killers and has to be on antibiotics for 7 days. They shaved her beautiful long hair around the bite so we can keep an eye on the injury. If it looks bad on Monday, we'll have to take her in again. Poor kitty.

At least that explains why she didn't want to come out from under the deck. One, she was in pain. And two, she might have been afraid of that mysterious ol' stray cat struttin' around, ready for Round 2.

Good thing cats have 9 lives!