Musky’s story
He went in on four legs in April and came out on three in October. Six months, one amputation, and the reason this club exists at all.
What I found
This story contains photographs of a serious injury.
On 12 April 2024, the day after Eid al-Fitr, I went to the Basic Section of the Industrial Design Department, where I used to visit a friendly black male kitten. As I went past the gate I called out to him as usual. He did not run to me the way he always had, and he sounded like he was in pain. My first glance at him made me gasp. His left hind paw was swollen and glistening with blood and pus, and he could not walk properly. He was a hungry stray cat, and now he was badly injured.
While I stared at him, he started running around, desperately looking for something. He did not stop until he found a bath of rainwater, which he almost tumbled into out of thirst. With his injured leg he hung over the edge and stretched forward to drink. I shook my head, wondering how long he had been thirsty. I got him some food, then contacted the students’ chairman of the Faculty of Veterinary Medicine for help.
Six months on admission
The clinic had closed for the night, so I took him back with me and returned the next morning. He was attended to immediately and I thought he would recover soon. Three days later the flesh of the affected area began coming away and you could see the bone. Then I was told the leg might have to be amputated.
That was when I realised how attached I had become. I had named him after my late cat, Musky. I broke down, imagining him waking one day with a leg gone and no explanation from anyone, and that being it for the rest of his life. So I prayed that his recovery would not have to be through amputation.
It was Dr. Bappa who changed things. I ran into him while looking for water for Musky, he asked what it was for, and I told him it was for a hospitalised kitten. He came to see him, wrote down what was needed for the treatment and contributed his own money towards it. We were starting afresh.
A week in, Musky’s bones were covering over with fresh flesh. He had a bigger appetite and looked happier. Whenever his dressing was due I would bring him smoked fish, boiled egg, milk.
What went wrong
A mid-semester break came and I had to leave for two weeks. Someone gave me his word that he would look after Musky. Four days in, that arrangement had already broken down. I collaborated with FACT to run a small fundraising campaign, and by the end of the day we had raised enough to feed Musky beyond the holiday — and some other cats besides.
Later, back on campus and buried in academic work, I relied on the care-giver to tell me when the dressing was being changed. Twice he did not call. Almost a month passed. When Dr. Bappa finally undressed the wound himself, he said the dressing had been on for more than a month. Blood had clotted across the whole area and there was a new wound below the knee where the plaster had been secured. I excused myself and broke down in the lobby. I could hear Musky crying while the wound was washed, and I could not forgive myself for it.
The decision
A collar meant to stop him licking the wound turned out to be scratching it open every time he groomed. A sling meant to keep the leg still left him unable to stand, and he spent a night in a pool of cold water trying to get out of it. Another month passed with no improvement. Then a colleague of Dr. Bappa’s suggested amputation.
If Musky had not already spent over five months on admission, meeting different animals, spending lonely days and nights in a cold metal cage, I would have refused. I deliberated for more than a week. That was how Musky became an amputee.
Where he is now
He was admitted in April and discharged in October. He went in on four legs and left on three. He went in a stray cat with at least a public shelter and siblings to go back to; he has neither now. His fur used to be black and white and both colours are mixed with brown. He used to know a lot of people who would feed and play with him, and now he knows only me and runs from everyone else.
Only one thing about Musky has not changed — his fighting spirit. Every day he is pushing hard and trying to live, and every day I am trying to go through it with him.
ABU Cats Club exists because of the six months in this story. Not the ending — the parts in the middle, where a cat who had people willing to help him still very nearly did not make it, because nobody had built anything to catch him.
