Why is our grey cat called Gandalf? You know that critical bit in Lord of the Rings where Gandalf fights the Balrog and gets dragged down into the dark abyss with the evil demon. You think that he’s had his chips and is gone forever. That’s why our cat is called Gandalf.
It was inevitable really – we found the little one cold and paralysed on our lounge room floor yesterday with hugely dilated pupils. It was of course a snakebite. The little bugger had obviously encountered his first ‘balrog’ and given a few cuffs around the face with his clumsy one year old paws.
We took him to the vet at 8am and he has been on brown snake anti-venom and a drip. He’s still a little paralysed, but 4 phone calls from the vet have been reporting good progress. He’s just out of the woods as of this morning, and can drag himself around the (heated) cage on wobbly legs and responds to pats. $400 minimum for fees means that he’s effectively got himself better star rating in terms of of accommdation that we are having on our forthoming holiday (tent trip).
A really sweet thing came out of it though. As he lay paralysed on the floor he was aware even in his stoned state that I was crouched beside him, because with his working front paws he dragged himself to my bare foot, got his arms around it and hugged his face up to it. It was like a little kid running up to a mummy leg. When I moved my foot, he moved with it. Awwww…
He should be back with us on Saturday morning, and I doubt he will be the last animal to wag their tail dangerously close to the eternal wild paths this summer because of insatiable curiosity.