Caring for my cat after knee surgery
A rescue cat’s recovery story
This is Louis.
He is a four-year-old (admittedly quite podgy) rescue cat with dodgy knees.
I adopted Louis and his sister, Phoebe, in December 2019 from the Cats Protection UK.
They were the last two kittens in their litter, and as I carried them home from the rescue centre in a heated wicker basket, I felt a childish giddiness. I couldn’t believe these tiny creatures were mine.
Louis and Phoebe were handfuls of fizzing energy, bolting around the house and tumbling across the floor together in a cartoonish cloud of fur and limbs.
They quickly learned to run and find me when I sang “Kittens!” from another room, and discovered mutual obsessions with feathers and cheddar cheese.
They were patient, gentle kittens and I handled them regularly to build trust, which would prove invaluable later.
The Warning Signs
The first sign of something wrong was when Louis began to fall behind Phoebe in his development. He looked healthy but was not as active or outgoing as Phoebe.
They were outdoor cats at the time, and while Phoebe was discovering the world beyond the garden fence, Louis stayed on the ground to chase flies on the lawn.
No matter, I thought, he is just a shy boy.
That was until he started to show signs of distress as he walked upstairs. He would pause mid-stride and rock himself back and forth slightly before he continued, and his left leg seemed to be the problem.
It was frightening to see his eyes widen in pain and I knew I needed to act quickly.
Diagnosis
I immediately made an appointment with the vet, and Louis was diagnosed with grade 2 patella luxation in both knees, with his left knee the worst of the two.
The vet explained that this is a painful condition whereby the kneecap ‘floats’, slipping out of place as the leg moves, causing lameness and arthritis, amongst other problems.
Patella luxation is relatively rare in cats and is more often found in dogs. It can be caused by physical trauma or, as in Louis’s case, genetics.
Surgery on both knees was the only option to prevent the problem from worsening over time. So, at 10 months old, Louis underwent surgery to cut a deeper groove in his left knee joint, in which the kneecap could sit nice and snug.
Louis’s Recovery Journey
Collecting Louis from the vet after his operation was one of the most stressful days of my life. He drunkenly thrashed around in his carrier, yowling with eyes like saucers and a leg suspiciously smeared in red.
The nurse said Louis was a naughty boy.
After the operation, he was fitted with a cone of shame and placed in a cage to recover from the anaesthetic. But he somehow shook off his cone and tore out all the stitches in his knee.
When he was found, the vets sedated him for a second time and roughly stapled the wound together again.
My cat had Frankenstein’s leg.
Recovering from knee surgery was a long and arduous process for everybody. Louis was on crate rest for four weeks, under strict instructions not to run, jump or play, which is a monumental challenge for a kitten.
His staples fell out, causing a major panic and a second trip to the vet.
He was doped up on opiates and anti-inflammatories which promptly gave him diarrhoea, requiring another vet visit to get probiotics.
He had trouble balancing to use the litter tray, and if unsupervised, would repurpose his cone as a poop scoop.
And Phoebe became terrified of the flailing drug-addled cat that now possessed her brother.
Little did we know, Phoebe also inherited the dodgy knee gene, but that’s a story for another time.
After four weeks, Louis was allowed 10 minutes of exercise per day to help build muscle strength. For the remainder of the time he was not satisfied unless I carried him around in his favourite basket.
He gradually became steadier on his feet and after eight weeks was allowed supervised exercise around the house for most of the day. By that point, Louis was strong enough to have his second operation.
After weeks of 24/7 care, Louis and I were a well-oiled machine.
Louis knew the drill and suffered my ministrations with bribery in the form of snacks and tickles. I became the world’s lightest sleeper, attuned to bolt upright at the faintest sound of a lick in the direction of some stitches. And we developed our own language for needs like water, food and cuddles.
Reflections
It is safe to say that Louis and I are trauma-bonded.
As pet carers, we develop a deep understanding of our animals’ needs and emotions, and I am sure the connection works both ways.
The summer of 2020 was awful for many reasons. I will remember it as a frightening, stressful period, but also a time of resilience, determination and boundless love.
A call of “Kittens!” still elicits a patter of paws as Phoebe races to claim a crunchy prize. Louis now thunders behind her as fast as his (less dodgy) knees will carry him.
