By mid-January I was exhausted, and after partying a little too hard on the Friday night with Elly, I decided to have a Saturday night in with Coco. Elly had gone out, so I had the whole place to myself. After consuming one hell of a lot of chocolate, I decide to go to bed at 11pm. I hunted Coco down so she could sleep in my room like she normally did. When I found her lying under the bed, foaming at the mouth, my heart stopped.
I tried to grab her, but she was too far back against the wall. When I called her name, she did something that she would never normally do; she came to me. She was not a cuddly cat at all and so it was at that moment I knew something terrible was wrong. I quickly picked her up and realised she was all limp. My heart sank.
I could not lose her. After everything that had happened, I honestly knew I wouldn’t survive without her. She was one of the only constant things I had in Sydney. She was my family. I grabbed the phone and quickly put her in her carry case. I phoned the vet, and thank God there was an emergency late night vet on call. I spoke to him for less than five minutes, describing her symptoms. He suggested she may have licked something off her fur and said I should try and give her a bath! Now, if the vet had ever met my cat (or surely any cat!), he would know that would not be possible and would more than likely take four people, who would all end up with very serious injuries. I decided not to take the risk (for me or her) and told him I would be there in fifteen minutes. He started telling me the price of the consultation, but I hung up the phone. I just didn’t care.
I immediately phoned Ben, but his phone was off. I needed a lift to the vet right then, but it was Saturday night, and I knew it would take at least thirty minutes, if not longer, for a taxi to arrive. I ordered one anyway but kept trying Ben’s phone. Next I phoned Sammy, who I knew would be at ‘work’, but he didn’t pick up. I then tried Jack, but when he answered the phone it was obvious he was extremely drunk and was in no fit state to drive. Although he was concerned, I knew he couldn’t help me so I hung up the phone. Apart from those three men, Elly was the only other person I knew with a car. I frantically hunted for her car keys but could not find them anywhere. In desperation, I even decided to phone Guy. As far as I knew, he still lived in Sydney and still had a car. His phone was also off but that’s how desperate I was!
After I had exhausted all avenues of getting a car, and with no sign of my taxi, I decided to start walking and hoped I could hail a taxi on the way. By that point, Coco could barely lift her head. I don’t think I have ever felt so alone. It was definitely a shock to me that—even after nearly five years in Sydney—I still had very few people I could rely on. Even though she was small, Coco was actually really heavy but thankfully, I finally found a taxi at the end of my street, and he rushed me to the emergency vet.
When the vet saw her, I knew he thought Coco was going to die. I reluctantly handed her over, and the nurse talked me through pricing and options. By that point, I was unable to hold a conversation. I knew I was not making any sense and I just kept repeating, in hysterical tears, ‘Do whatever you have to; she means everything to me.’
I was also constantly phoning Ben, but with no luck. After two very long hours, I was finally allowed to see her. She was on a drip and could barely move, but when she saw me, she lifted her head up, and I even got a little purr when I stroked her. The vet informed me that they thought she was poisoned; by what, I still do not know to this day. The vet hoped the fluids would help flush it out of her, but he repeated over and over again that the first twenty-four hours were the most important, and his words just filled me with more dread and panic. At 2am, I very reluctantly left the veterinary clinic without Coco and returned home alone. I tried Ben’s phone, but it was still off.
By 8am the next morning, Elly had returned home, and I reluctantly woke her up to let her know what was going on and to plead with her to take me to the vet. The poor thing was so hung over she very nearly threw up when we walked out to the car, but she still took me. When I got to the vet’s, they informed me that Coco still had a temperature, hadn’t eaten a thing and had not been to the toilet at all. My heart broke when I saw her; she was still on a drip in her cage and looking very sorry for herself. For some reason, the poor baby was lying in the litter tray.
I had brought some food from home, as I knew she was a fussy eater, and as I filled up her bowl, she started to purr again. I immediately put the bowl close to her, and she started to eat. She only had a few tiny mouthfuls, but even the vet was absolutely amazed. They decided to check her temperature again and asked me to wait in the treatment room while they brought her out. After five minutes, the vet walked into the treatment room without Coco. My heart stopped.
‘Umm, we are actually having a few problems getting her out of the cage. She doesn’t seem to like us very much,’ the vet said, embarrassed.
Of course, she doesn’t like you, I thought. She just about tolerates me and I haven’t shoved anything up her bum!
The vet suggested that I try to get her out of the cage myself to save her any distress. As I put my hands into the cage, she again began to purr, and as I scooped her up, she didn’t resist at all. The vet said that day he had never seen a cat change so quickly from being completely unable to handle to being so calm. Sadly, her temperature was still high and so with a very heavy heart, I had to put her back in her cage and once again leave her there.
When the vet said I could visit at any time, he probably didn’t realise I would actually sit by her cage all that day. She was all I had in the whole of Australia, and there was no way I was going to leave her. By 4pm, there was little improvement, and when Ben finally called me back, after his phone had been off for nearly twenty-four hours and listening to all my frantic messages, I was not really in the mood to hear his excuses. He gave me some story about being at Jack’s, having too much to drink and his phone running out of battery. By that time, I just didn’t care and barely listened to his apologies / excuses. I was really not in the mood, and for the first time since meeting him, I hung up the phone and turned it off.
When the vet started to close up, I reluctantly left Coco for another night and walked the forty-five minutes home to clear my head. To my surprise and amazement, Ben was waiting outside my house for me when I got back. He jumped out the car and gave me the biggest cuddle, as I completely broke down into sobbing tears. He grabbed my face with both hands, looked me straight in the eye, and with almost surprise, said, ‘God, you really love her, don’t you?’
How he could ever have doubted that, I do not know, but at that very moment in time I think even he, an anti-pet person, understood just a little bit how much I loved and needed her. For the next three hours, he listened to me go over and over things in my head, took me to my favourite chocolate cafe and reminded me that, in fact, I was not all that alone in this huge country a million miles from home.
The next day, I phoned in sick to work and was at the veterinary clinic before they had even opened. Coco still looked very sick and still had a temperature but that time ate all the food I brought her. The emergency vet had by then been replaced by Coco’s usual vet, whom I liked very much as she tended to call Coco ‘a sensitive little dumpling,’ which I completely agreed with. The vet went through all Coco’s test results with me and informed me that they had found nothing wrong with her except her high temperature and lack of appetite. She strongly suspected she had eaten something poisonous, maybe a spider, but told me that as she had survived two nights now, there was a good possibility she would be ok. Although I was reluctant to take anything for granted, I began to let myself believe that everything would be ok.
The vet suggested I let Coco get some more rest and more fluids and that I return at 6pm to maybe take her home if her temperature had come down. The next nine hours of my life went so slowly; I lay on the sofa for much of it and watched daytime TV. At 5.30pm, Ben came to pick me up and drove me to the vet. He said he would wait in the car as he had to make some work calls, but deep down I knew it was because he wasn’t a big animal lover and absolutely hated hospitals, let alone a veterinary practice, because of the ‘germs.’.
As I headed into the vet’s, I was asked once again to get Coco out of her cage as she would not cooperate at all. Once again, I had no problems. In the treatment room, her temperature was lower than that morning but still high. Nevertheless, the vet said I could take her home as she thought Coco would recover a lot better where she felt safe, as long I brought her back first thing in the morning for another check-up. I was so happy I thought I would burst! I quickly popped her in her carry case and headed to the reception to pay the bill so I could get her home straight away.
I knew the bill was going to be huge, but until then I had not let myself think about it. I got out my credit card, ready to take the bullet, but when the receptionist greeted me with a huge smile and said, ‘The very lovely gentleman outside in the sports car has already settled your bill, Miss,’ you could have knocked me over with a feather.
I turned around and Ben was just staring at us both and eventually gave us one of his shy smiles and a wave, unsure as to whether he had done the right thing. The receptionist was obviously impressed and very interested in who that man was and how she could get one. She started to quiz me. I was so shocked I barely made any sense when I asked how much the bill was. She handed me a copy of the receipt and told me I was a very lucky girl. As I walked out of the vet’s with Coco in one hand and a $3500 vet bill that had been paid in full in the other, I knew this man was a keeper, and I truly was so very lucky. That was Coco’s first ever ride in a Ferrari!‘It’s hard to resist a bad boy who is a good man.’ — Unknown.