My Jeep-Kitten Has Broken Its Axle And It’s Going To Cost Me More Than An Actual Jeep To Fix

I’m completely overwhelmed by the kittens born in my 1994 Jeep Grand Cherokee five-speed “Holy Grail.” While one, named Jaws, is pretty much self-sufficient at this point, he did bite my friend and require her to spend $2,000 on rabies vaccines. Jay, the most recent kitten that I captured and whom I haven’t written about yet, will not stop meowing; she cries all night. I’m so tired. And then the third kitten, the rare orange female named Mango — a sweet cat who’s very easy to take care of (or so I thought) — has been limping for a few days. I took her to the mechanic — err, doctor — because that limp wasn’t getting better, and I received some bad news: Mango broke her axle! And man, paying for the technician — err, medical professional — to diagnose the issue has officially cost me more than the Jeep in which Mango was born! And the costs just keep climbing! Here, check out these X-Rays; they ain’t great.

OK, the big update is that, in addition to Jaws and Mango, my friend and I are now fostering a third cat named Jay (later to be up for adoption, so let me know if you’re looking for a Jeep-kitten!).

 

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I’m fairly sure that this little cat — whose fur is a muted brown, almost the color of a dusty dirt road — is the same one that once lived inside a brake rotor in my Jeep:

Anyway, Jay has been meowing nonstop, and I’m basically writing this article in zombie mode. If there are typos, I’m not surprised.

Anyway, despite her still needing quite a bit of socialization (she’s currently quite scared, though as you can see above, we have been getting along), Jay is the least of my problems right now. It turns out that my orange long-haired cat, Mango, has a broken axle. Here’s the top photo of the article I wrote on Mango last week:

The headline mentions fleas and nothing else because, though Mango was limping, I attributed that limp to the bandage on her leg, which the vet had put there after drawing blood to check for illnesses. Sometimes animals walk weirdly when there’s something on their leg. But upon removing the bandage, the limp remained for days.

I decided last night to take Mango to the emergency room; I was worried the issue was more than just a sore spot from a needle. My biggest fear was a blood clot.

Upon arrival, a nurse took us straight back to have the kitten checked out by a doctor; the doc and nurses could not deal with how cute Mango is. “Woh, an orange female! That’s so rare,” the doctor told us. “One in ten!”

The doctor began manipulating Mango’s rear passenger’s side leg, testing its range of motion, placing it in positions that would normally yield some kind of reaction from the kitten. But Mango refused to move that leg. It was as if the leg were completely limp, save for some very, very light movement on her part (but very little force). Even her claws in that leg weren’t ejecting properly.

Everyone was confused, so the doc decided we should do an X-Ray. The team took Mango into a back room, put a little lead coat on her to block the radiation, and ran some scans.

I love this photo of Mango watching the results with the nurse/lab tech:

The results weren’t good.

As you can see fairly clearly in two of the images, Mango’s femur (that upper leg bone) has been cracked in two places. I’m not even entirely sure what’s holding that middle piece in place.

Amazingly, Mango hasn’t meowed at all. She’s totally calm; a classy lady-cat. The doctor wondered what had happened. We’d never noticed any kind of fall or incident that might have hurt Mango. “This would have been a traumatic event,” the doctor assured us when we wondered if we had somehow hurt Mango while pulling her out from behind a toilet. “Trust me, she’d have cried.” We concluded that Mango had been injured when we’d trapped her in the Galpin Media parking lot.

The doctor suggested we go to another animal hospital to get a second opinion. For now, she prescribed opioids to relieve any pain Mango may be feeling (and presumably to calm her down and keep her from hurting herself); the doctor’s professional opinion is that Mango’s leg will probably heal so long the kitten doesn’t re-aggravate the issue. As such, my friend and I have been instructed to keep the kitten in  a small play-pen so she doesn’t try to run or do anything else that might place stress on that leg. So that’s where things sit right now; Mango is in this little pen:

And my wallet is in a proverbial pen of its own. Look at this:

ELEVEN HUNDRED SMACKERS.

As a certified Cheap Bastard, this is pretty painful. The Jeep in which Mango was born had only cost me $450! Hell, I’ve bought at least five cars for less money than this X-Ray, and this is just round one! We’re going to an orthopedic surgeon tomorrow for a consultation.

Obviously, a living being is not the same as a Jeep, a cat’s life is totally worth it, and I’m mostly just playing around, here. Plus, I plan to teach Mango to wrench, so she’ll help me earn those $1,100 back.

Hand me the 10mm, Mango!